Page 106 of Caution to the Wind
Using the hand on my throat, he tipped my neck to expose the skin at the curve of my neck and shoulder, fixing his teeth there with a rough grunt. I shivered, pinned by his body and his teeth to the door. Wet flooded between my legs, and I grounded down on his thigh shamelessly, aching for the friction. The years-long hunger for this man roared to life inside me like a well-constructed bonfire gone dry in the heat just waiting for a lit match to set it aflame. It was powerful, so profound, for a moment, I was almost afraid of my own desire.
Axe-Man moved back, his thick thigh the only thing keeping me upright for a moment as he hooked his fingers in the neck of my tank top and wrenched, ripping the fabric down the middle. It fluttered listlessly to my sides, exposing my small breasts and pebbled brown nipples to the cool air and Axe-Man’s lusty, hateful gaze.
He bared his teeth at me as he took in the sight, hands finding my hips to hold me still as he dipped his head to take a nipple into his mouth. When his teeth closed around it, Ikeened, an animal, vulpine sound that echoed through the room and back to me. Squirming against his leg, head thudding against the door, I weathered his attack on my breasts without an ounce of grace. I was reduced to mindless pleasure, clutching at his hair and wrenching hard to keep his attention there.
Within minutes, I was ready to come, writhing like a creature in its death throes. Axe-Man seemed to sense my tension and pulled away with a wet smacking sound, his lips damp and red, my nipples tight and bruised by his attention, the swells of my breasts peppered in bite marks that looked so fucking hot I almost climaxed at the sight of them.
“Not so fuckin’ fast,” he growled between clenched teeth.
He pressed a palm into the wet, bruised skin of my chest to hold me there while the other made quick work of thumbing open the button on his jeans and unzipping his fly. He was too close for me to see his cock, but I could feel the heavy weight of it slap against my trembling inner thigh as he pulled it out. The crinkle of foil told me he was fishing in his pocket, and a second later, a condom wrapper was between his strong, white teeth, and he was tearing it open. He spat the used foil to the ground and gritted his teeth as he sheathed himself in latex and immediately pressed himself to the wet seat of my shorts.
I gasped at the contact, clutching him, but he swore and stepped back, prying my hands off his body.
“Don’t touch me,” he ordered even as he dropped me to my feet on the floor to shuck off my shorts and panties in one fell swoop. Still bent slightly, he knuckled my soaking wet pussy as if testing my readiness, and then, apparently unsatisfied even though I was leaking down my thighs, he spat on my clit.
I shuddered, rocked by how sexy that was, but he was already standing up again and pressing close. I watched in a haze as he sucked his wet knuckle into his mouth with a low growl and then palmed my ass to heft me up against the door again. The second I was pinned, he notched his cock at my slippery entrance and thrust forward to the hilt.
My head cracked against the door as I threw it back on a soundless scream. I convulsed around his girth, my pussy struggling and failing to relax. One of his hands shifted to secure my weight so the other could cup the back of my head, an instinctively protective move I knew he was unconscious of making.
He grounded deeper, the hair at the base of him grinding against my clit in a way that started a friction fire.
“Fuck,” I gasped, clawing at his shoulders until I drew blood and made him hiss.
“Take it,” he ground out, collecting my clawing hands in his then holding them above my head so my entire centre of gravity was focused on where we were connected.
I hung there like an ornament as he fucked into me, his thrusts so deep they kissed my cervix with a twinge of pain that almost instantly blossomed into pleasure. The door rattled loudly in its frame as he pounded against me, the wet slap of his balls against my sopping cunt a sharp underscore to the bass beat.
When I came, it happened so suddenly it was like being hit by a train. One moment, I was clinging to sanity, and the next, I was broken open by the impact of that runaway cock. Vaguely, I was aware of Axe-Man releasing my hands, using one to muffle the screams pouring from my mouth and the other to squeeze between our bodies to brutally pinch my clit. On the heels of the first orgasm sparked another, this one sharper, almost painful.
I screamed until I couldn’t breathe, slumped against Axe-Man and the door, water-logged with an excess of pleasure.
My mind was gloriously, blissfully empty, so when Axe-Man made an animal noise of dissatisfaction, I canted my hips to accept him deeper automatically. When he took both my ass cheeks in his hands and clenched tight, dragging my entire body forcibly up and down his thick cock, I dug my fingers into his hair and held on desperately.
And when he fixed his teeth over my throat, biting deep enough to bruise, I tipped my neck lower to expose myself to the pain and ground down into his every thrust, working myself to yet another impossible climax.
“Fuck, you’re the most dangerous thing I’ve ever known,” he grunted a moment before growling as he slammed himself to the root inside me, his cock kicking against my swollen walls so hard I knew he was coming.
For an absolutely insane moment, I wished he was coming inside me, flooding me with his seed so that when he pulled out of my used cunt, it would leak down my thighs. The image tipped me over the edge into another bone-quaking orgasm that made my teeth ache.
I lost consciousness for a moment, and when I found reality again, I was being moved. I opened my eyes just as Henning pulled me off his cock like a used condom and tossed me on the bed closest to the door. My body bounced once, twice, before settling limply, dislodging the pencils and the loosely stacked pile of sketches I’d organized earlier so they fell to the ground.
I watched in a kind of fugue state as Henning stalked to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and then prowled back into the room while doing up his fly. He didn’t look at me at all. My heart had moved into my throat as he moved to the door, pulling it open and stepping a foot outside without a word to me.
Only at the last second did he look back, his eyes so narrow with vitriol I couldn’t see any of that oxidized copper blue. He looked… I sucked in a breath as our eyes met and locked… He looked like he hated me.
No, that wasn’t strong enough.
He looked like I’d killed every dream he’d ever had. Like I’d betrayed him irrevocably. Like he couldn’t stand the sight of me.
Me.
I was lying there, limbs akimbo on the bed, bruised from his teeth, wet and swollen from his cock, red thong still attached to my left ankle like the last hanger in an empty closet.
And the truth came back to me in a rush, a cold wave as fierce as an avalanche landing on my chest. I lost my breath to it.
Because the truth was he might have been the hero in my story, but I’d always be the girl who’d made his a tragedy. Nothing would change that. Not finding Kate’s killers, not loving and caring for Cleo. Not even fucking him the way I’d fantasized about for years.
He wrenched his eyes from me, jaw working, and then shook his head even as he stalked back toward me.