I don't mind.
I welcome it.
She can hit me, beat me, torture me, and I'll take it all. I'll happily absorb the impact of her fists and the bitterness of her words. She can purge her aggression, lose herself with me, and I'll never begrudge her for it.
Because I know the feeling.
I know the anger, the hate, and the pain.
And looking at her, as she pulls from my lips for a fraction of a second to stare me in the eyes, is like looking in a mirror again… a broken, jagged sliver of glass reflecting my soul back at me.
This time, it's the dark half.
She's just as fucked up as I am.
And maybe I did that to her.
Maybe it's wrong of me.
But fuck if it doesn't feel right this way.#p#分页标题#e#
I kiss her cheek, chin, neck, chest, again, and again, and again, my teeth nipping at her flesh as I drag her further onto the bed, settling between her thighs. She's already wet, her skin flushed, every part of her heating in anticipation.
Grabbing her legs, I shove them apart, forcing her knees to her chest as my lips meet hers again. I push inside of her, hard, thrusting deep, and she cries into my mouth, growling a lone curse. "Fuck."
"I'm going to," I whisper against her lips. "I'm going to fuck it all out of you, every bit of it." I pull out and thrust right back in, eliciting another cry. "I'm going to fuck you until you beg me to stop." Another thrust. Another cry. "And then I'm still not going to stop, not until you say the word to make me." I pull back to look at her as I thrust again, deeper than before. Her breath hitches. "I'm not going to stop until you say it… until you mean it."
She stares at me, stubbornly, defiantly… silently. It's a battle of wills, one she'll never win.
I'll fuck her until my heart gives out.
Hell, without her, I don't need it, anyway.
She says nothing, and she doesn't have to, because I don't give her much of a chance. I'm pounding into her so hard each thrust forces her deeper into the bed. She tries her hardest to stay silent, her face contorted, her jaw clenched to keep from making noise, but I can hear her compulsive whimpers, feel her swallowing back the cries as I lick, and suck, and bite all around her throat, giving her every bit of myself.
I don't hold back.
I'm done holding back with her.
She knows who I am.
She knows what I'm capable of.
She doesn't get the kid gloves anymore.
Minutes pass. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.
It might be half an hour.
It could be half a day.
The room is deathly dark but I can make out her strained expression as I refuse to let up, moving her and twisting her around, treating her like the ragdoll I learned she likes to be. She takes it all in stride for a while before it gets to be too much, her whimpers more agonizing, her muscles tenser, her orgasms coming on stronger and closer together, her entire body spent.
I can feel her legs twitching, her hands vicious against my skin. The claw marks on my back throb, burning from the sweat dripping along them. She's drawn more blood, a ripped fingernail tearing a slice across my cheek, but I don't bat an eyelash.
She can wound me.
She can scar me.
She can do whatever she wants to me.
I can feel her body taut beneath mine, the onset of another orgasm. She inhales sharply, the breath leaving her lungs in the form of words. "No more."
"What's that?" I ask. "I didn't hear you."
"No more," she says, pushing against my chest. "I… I can't take any—" Her breath hitches. "Anymore."
The word is strangled as she comes, convulsions gripping her body. She clings to me, a tear leaking from the corner of her eye. I don't stop. She knows I won't. She starts fighting, hitting me again, biting whatever she can reach, and drawing more blood as I restrain her.
"Say it," I tell her again, knowing I've found her limit, the place where she draws the line. "Say the word."
All I want is for her to admit defeat.
For her to break out of this rut again.
She stares into my eyes, breathless, as I pin her to the bed, her wrists clasped in my hands. Her lip quivers. I have to fight the urge to nibble on it. After a second she exhales sharply, and I close my eyes in anticipation. I can feel my orgasm brewing, straining my muscles.
I'm dangerously close.
Her voice is so low it's nearly drowned out by the sound of sweaty skin slapping, the lone word little more than a whisper. "Yellow."
My eyes open right away. It's instinctual. I rein myself in, moving slower, gentler, as I stare down at her.
"Yellow," she says again, chanting the word. I slow until I damn near stop, but still she says it, again and again.
Yellow.
Yellow.
Yellow.
She knows I won't ignore it.
A shiver rips down my spine as I come, but I get no pleasure from it. I pull out before I'm even finished, letting go of her wrists and moving away. I sit back on my knees, running my hands through my hair and gripping the locks tightly as I stare up at the ceiling in the darkness. My cock throbs as my skull pounds. I watch the ceiling fan spin around and around as I breathe deeply, counting to ten.