Page 12 of Cry, Little Dove

“Ain’t no way in hell I’m using a condom when I fuck you, darlin’. I wanna feel all of you. Bare,” he bites out.

I laugh breathlessly. “I wasn’t going to ask for one.”

“That makes it easier for you.” He tilts his head with a feral grin. “Because I wouldn’t stop anyway.”

My pussy throbs. Him saying that should be a gigantic red flag, not a turn on. Clearly, I’m much more messed up than I ever thought.

“Beg,” he orders.

“What?”

“I won’t fuck you until you call me by my name and beg for my cock.”

My thoughts whirl, my mouth going dry. This is so humiliating, I can barely get the words out.

“I want you, Cain. Badly. Please…” My face flames. “I need you to fuck me and stretch me with your big cock. I’ll do anything!”

He shudders with pleasure. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He lines himself up with my entrance, and then, he lets gravity run its course. He impales me.

A cry surges from my throat. My pussy flutters, trying to accommodate his size as he holds himself deep, pressed up against my cervix. I grip his shoulders, my fingers digging into his muscles. With every whine I let out, he twitches inside me.

Cain is getting off on my pain.

“You’re so deep inside,” I force out. “You’re hurting me.”

“Oh, I know, darlin’. I meant to hurt you. You’re such a lil thing, it feels like I’m gonna rip you in half. But you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Only a whore with a death wish would invite a nameless stranger to her room for rough sex. You don’t give a damn what happens to you. You wanna get hurt.”

My eyes go round. How does he know?

“No, that’s not—”

He shushes me. “You don’t have to act coy with me. I’ll give you what you want. I’m gonna pound you like you’re just a hole to use. Just a piece of fuckmeat for me to abuse. I’ll wreck you.”

Before I can get over my shock, he pulls out to the tip and starts to thrust. He moves me like I’m a doll. Long, cruel strokes, burying himself in me, his groans and the noise of slapping flesh in my ears.

It still hurts, but his brutality is precise, and he hits all the right spots, his pelvis rubbing against my clit. After a few tormenting strokes, the ache fades like background noise.

It feels fucking amazing.

Sex has never felt like this before. Richer than pure lust, intensified by the pain. Like dark chocolate, the bitterness brings out the sweetness.

Cain’s teeth graze my throat, trailing kisses. He bites the spot where my neck and shoulder connect, and I moan.

“Louder,” he growls. “I want everybody in this town to hear how well you take my cock.”

He keeps fucking me, and I beg louder. Moan louder. Broken sounds and words bubble from my lips, and when his hips jerk and his dick swells, I tip over the brink with him. Cain’s release floods my insides, my eyes closing at the onslaught of my orgasm. Fireworks dance behind my lids and I whimper his name like a prayer until my voice fades.

Cain slumps forward, but he holds me tightly. Caught between him and the wall, I can barely breathe. Tacky cum drips out of me onto the carpet, adding our mixed fluids to the stains.

I’m a mess. Sticky. Hot. Sweaty. Exhausted.

I’ve never felt better.

For the first time since my life fell apart, I’m at peace—in the arms of a stranger who fucked me brutally after holding a knife to my throat. The irony isn’t lost on me, but I’m too content to care.

“Hell, that was incredible,” Cain says, and the part of my hindbrain that craves his praise purrs in satisfaction. “I bet you agree. Don’t lie to me, little dove. I felt how hard you came.”

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