Owned by the Bad Boy(15)

I love watching the frustration on her face unfold as all of her pride evaporates. All she wants is my cock buried deep inside her. She’s trying so fucking hard. It’s taking every cell in my brain to stop myself from grabbing her hips and ramming forward. Her pussy is so tight—and it’s been a year.

I snap.

My fingers lock on her hips, digging in. Her mouth goes round as I yank her back with so much force that I drag her body and the sheets. My dick finally sinks in that deep warmth. Oh my fucking God. I pound her, not giving a shit that I’m not wearing a condom. She moans again, and I realize how much I want those cherry lips wrapped around my thick cock—but now that I have her pussy, it’s impossible to give it up.

I grind my hips as my cock swells inside her, holding her against me. A flush spreads over her chest, and I reach down and grab one of her tits.

“This pussy belongs to me. These tits are mine.”

“Please just fuck me!”

You sent me to jail.

Anger fuels the energy inside me. I fucking hate her. Why did she have to ruin me for all other women? Why, even after she betrayed me, do I only want her pussy wrapped around my cock? Her lips, hair, and body—I can’t replace her. I can’t even dig her out of my chest.

I hammer her cunt. She screams, every thrust of my hips tearing from her throat. I smother her mouth and she digs her nails into my shoulder. I fall forward, my balls burning from the intense thrusts. They slap loudly against her wet cunt and I groan into her neck, feeling the pressure rise. It urges me faster, and her tits are smashed against my chest. I kiss her throat as she locks her legs around my waist. The kiss becomes a bite, and then I pause, my dick throbbing as I grab a handful of tit and I bite that, too. Claire’s hands anchor over my ass, and then I wrap my arms around her and I ram my dick as far as it can go. Her walls tighten around me, and she arches, pushing her tits in my face.

I’m lost.

I come inside her with the force of a geyser. She falls apart in my arms, her pussy clenching around my dick as I thrust. The heavy load fills her pussy, I feel it soak into her walls, but I’m not done yet. I want more—and then I see her open mouth. I lift my hips and pull out of her cunt, straddling her face.

Drink my cum, bitch.

She opens her mouth, accepting me immediately. I sink down and fuck her face, grabbing her hair with one rough hand. Her throat bulges as I fill her to the hilt with cock. My balls brush her lips and she licks them, her greedy tongue sucking all of her juices from my shaft. It feels amazing. I needed to claim her mouth, too. Then I grind against her lips, feeling her gag. I do it again—loving the humiliation in her eyes—and then my cock swells and I burst. I fill her mouth with a second load, and she brings her lips back and forth, sucking every drop from me. Then I finally feel satisfied, but empty. The euphoria quickly fades away, flickering and then dead.

I’ve lingered here too long.

I lift myself from her as she lies there on the bed, her chest still pulsing and her eyes still staring at the ceiling in mild shock. She sits up, her hair hanging around her face as I pick up my clothes from the floor and quickly dress.

“What happened to you?”

Her voice is like a dry whisper. I pause in the middle of zipping up my slacks as a flood of raw energy courses into my blood. I look at her as bile rises in my throat.

“Get up, we’re leaving.”

“I’m not going back to that life. I can’t—”

“I don’t think I’m giving you a choice.” I zip up my pants and walk to the bed. Then I seize her wrist. “Let’s go.”

I hate her, but they’ll kill her.

“You’re going to spend every day making it up to me.”

And I don’t know if you ever will.

“I’m not leaving!”

She pulls back, that wild look on her face making my cock twitch. I wanted her the moment I saw her in that casino. With her, it was always fireworks. I can’t let her go—can’t do what Johnny wants me to do.

I drag her out of bed and yank on a drawer. It crashes to the floor and breaks, bras and panties spilling everywhere.

“No!”

And then a noise startles me—a strange, gurgling sound that makes the hair rise on my neck. I bolt out of the bedroom and hear it again. What the fuck? Is someone here? It comes from a closed door. I instinctively reach for my knife, and then Claire screams.

“Stop!”

She throws herself in front of the door, her arms outstretched. Then I hear it again: the unmistakable sound of a tiny, human cry.

I shove her aside and burst through the door, stumbling into a pastel-colored nursery.

Nursery.

It’s almost as though I’m hovering above my own body, watching myself look around the room. And there’s a crib—a white crib. I catch a glimpse of a dark tuft of hair and fat fists.