Page 50 of Not Her Day to Die

Jumping back to him, I extend my fingers tentatively and touch the tip of his cock.

Darius hisses. “Fuck, just the smallest of–” He cuts himself off, his jaw ticking. “It’s time, Sunday. This will help, I promise. Can you trust me?”

Instead of answering, I fall back fully to the bed and open my legs further for him. This time I know better than to look above.

“Give us a fucking show!” echoes around us.

Darius repositions, his cock at my entrance, his eyes find mine.

They are sad, disheveled, swirling in terror and lust.

I jerk my head.All at once,I mouth.

One of Darius’s hands finds my clit, the other my hip bone.

He keeps his attention on me as he plunges as hard as he can into me.

The scream that leaves my lips is a mixture of shock, pain, and crippling hedonism. He has extended and stretched and plied me apart.

“Don’t stop!” echoes around us.

My eyes are watering as I incline my head to Darius, as I open my legs further for him.

Darius keeps up his ministrations on my clit as he accepts what we must do. Whathemust do.

The lube has allowed him into my body, but nothing more, nothing less. He has to work himself in and out, has to continuously stretch and expand me. And every time he pauses, I can feel as my muscles tense attempting to go back to where they wish to be.

It takes time, but eventually, my body accepts him much easier, and I find myself bucking up into him. Enjoying every thrust.

“Darius,” I mewl as he curves upwards hitting a new spot inside of me. “There, please, there,” I beg.

“Fuck, Wildflower. What are you doing to me?” He continues to grind into me. Into the same spot over and over again.

Each time he hits it, it is pure bliss, as if I am nearly floating.

Each time he falls away, it is as if a sack of bricks are landing across me. Weighing me down, scratching painfully into my skin.

He is giving and taking and making each second feel eternal.

It is addictive, heady, overwhelming. And before I can even grasp what is happening, how much time has passed, that we are still very much in the center of a stage, my body coils and springs out on its own. My muscles spasm as I arch off the bed.

“Sunday.” My name leaving his lips is a reverent whisper. Darius is nearly crying as he comes deep inside me. I can’t tell if it is from emotion or from the fact of what we were forced to do. “I love you, Sunday. I’m so sorry I have waitedlifetimesto tell you. Maybe this is my karma for being so stubborn.”

The purple strand between us is steadier now, solidified. A connection that speaks to our souls.

My hand finds his jaw, stroking his skin there. I open my mouth to speak.

Cheering causes me to twitch back and pause.

I attempt to convey with my eyes what he means to me, how even in this disgusting atmosphere our connection kept me sane. How it was easy to block out the repulsive environment with him.

But then hands are grabbing on his shoulders, ripping him out and off of me. I wince at the pain of our separation.

His absence has left me empty. Devoid.

“Let me go!” Darius yells. He swings attempting to fight them off. It’s another goon. A faceless man in an overpriced suit. “Let me stay with her longer.”

“Settle down, son! You’ll be back out here soon enough. And the guests have even voted on what you will be doing to her next. I’ll keep it a surprise but suffice it to say, they want you to stretch her past her limits. Sunday, you will need to prepare for this next round.”