Page 34 of A Trap So Flawless

I’m awake. And I have fucking got her.

Possessiveness sweeps through me with the force of a monsoon. My hand abandons her hip for the exquisitely warm, soft hood of her swollen clit. I rub her hard, demanding and relentless, until she cries out and her cunt begins to weep around me.

Then, with a movement that comes more from primal instinct than thought, I slam myself all the way in.

She cries out again, an agonized sound. But I don’t think that she’s in pain. Or if she is, it isn’t only pain she’s feeling. If she’s suffering, then she’s suffering sweetly, her molten fucking channel already twitching and tightening around me. Trying to draw me in deeper.

I would have liked the first time I fucked her raw to have been a little slower. I would have liked to have her writhing and begging and hatefucking me with her eyes before I brought my dick within ten centimetres of her slick pussy.

But this violent collision between us, half-real and half-dreamed, feels inevitable. I don’t think I could have stopped it if I tried.

Don’t think I could have stopped it even if she begged me.

She hasn’t said anything else, hasn’t told me to wait again. She’s too lost in the throes of my body moving inside hers, her voice rising and falling in ever-louder moans. Then the moans suddenly cease, like she’s stopped breathing entirely. Until her breath explodes out of her in a hoarse sob at the same moment that her cunt constricts.

She comes, and it is holy ecstasy. Dark elation. Sacred and electric and… And I don’t fucking know, because I’m not a fucking poet, and if there’s ever been a time that words have failed me, it is now.

But I don’t need words. All I need is her.

Heat throbs, a demanding drumbeat in my groin. I hear myself groan as scalding pressure – and pleasure – take over.

And then, the catastrophic release. My entire body locks up tight as I explode, bare and unprotected, coming over and over with my tip jammed up against the sucking softness of her cervix.

It’s only then, when I’m shuddering and spasming and spilling everything I have inside her, that Valentina finally finds her voice again to tell me, “No!”

“No?” I hiss against her ear, sliding my fingers back and forth over her clit, her flesh now slippery with her wetness and mine. “You’re going to tell me no while your greedy cunt is milking me like this? You’re squeezing the living fucking daylights out of my dick.”

She whimpers and arches her spine, her cunt giving another trembling spasm that steals my breath, steals another shivery jet of my come, and nearly steals my consciousness.

“You can’t come inside,” she mewls. She fists the bedding, as if she’s going to use it as some sort of anchor to haul herself away from me. “I’m not on the pill!”

I’ve never had any interest in spawning a squalling brat. Something about seeing your own dead da’s neck snapped inside its noose makes the idea of fatherhood infinitely unappealing.

No kids. That’s always been one of my rules. Never thought I’d have to enforce it, though. I never thought things would get this far with anyone.

“It’s too late, pet,” I pant. I’m fully spent inside her now. There’s no taking it back.

I could stay like this forever, with my softening dick held so sweetly inside her. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt relief like this in my entire life. Sleep is already pulling at me once again. I press my nose into her hair, inhale deeply, and close my eyes.

But Valentina is wiggling. Grunting and moving and pulling herself away from me. Before I can grip her hip to hold her here, she’s scooted herself across the bed. My dick slides out. The air is cold without her.

“What are you doing?” I ask her, sitting up and watching as she gingerly places her feet upon the ground and stands.

“I have to go deal with this,” she snaps without looking at me. Her back is to me. Her hair has been cut as well as bleached, but it’s still pretty long, falling in a messy tumble down her back in the darkness of the room.

“Deal with it, how?”

“Go get a morning after pill or something.”

I glance at the clock on the bedside table.

“It’s not even six in the morning,” I tell her, blearily registering the time. Jesus. We must have slept all afternoon, and then all the way through the night after that. I don’t think I’ve ever slept that long unless I was recovering from a Callum-inflicted concussion.

“Fine,” she says. “Then for now I’ll just shower and try to rinse as much of your come out of me that I can.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Before she can react, I’ve got her, dragging her by the shoulders back into the bed. She falls onto her back on the mattress, her perfect, pillowy tits bouncing, her lips parting with indignant surprise. I hold her in place with one hand, using the other to flick on the bedside lamp. She’s thrown into dim, golden focus, suffused with breathless colour.

---