Page 118 of Black Castle

“Who were they?” he demands, her naked ass brushing against his straining cock, his vision pulsing black at the edges. She is wet. Fucking soaked, the sight of her slick thighs causing his restraint to fray by the second.

“Who?” A whimper settles in her heaving chest, her cheek pressed into the counter.

He tugs her head back, forcing another sound from her throat. “Don’t fucking play stupid,” he growls, the sound of his belt’s buckle hissing through the air before the zipper of his pants is yanked open.

“Who the fuck touched you at school today?” His voice carries the lethality of poison. “Your string of boyfriends? Is the one you were whispering sweet nothings to earlier part of them?”

“They’re just friends.” Her fingers claw at the counter, nails digging into the polished surface as if grounding herself. She doesn’t need his instructions, her body already bends to his will, back arched, ass pushed out in offering.

Such a pretentious little slut.

“Friends?” A harsh sound leaves Zev’s sneering lips, his free hand disappearing inside his boxer briefs, pulling out his cock—thick, throbbing, aching for her. “Am I supposed to believe that?”

“It was just a harmless hug with Kenji’s friends from the soccer team,” she mumbles, her tone snarky. “Stop being so dramatic. And I can hang out with whoever I want to. Stop being delusional, you don’t fucking own me. I am not yours.”

She is taunting him. Using the phrase she knows he despises and it’s fucking working, as something dark unfurls in Zev’s chest, a sickness, a hunger. The room tilts, his vision blurring in a haze of black, grey, and red.

That fucking sentence. That fucking lie. The urge to wring the breath from her throat claws at his control, but instead, he grabs her neck, squeezing just enough to feel her pulse skitter beneath his palm.

Angrily, he shoves her thighs apart, fingers gripping her hip. No warning. No teasing. He drives his cock into her, and she chokes on a gasp, body seizing.

“You.” Thrust. “Are.” Thrust. “Mine.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Mine!” Thrust.

“Oh god!” she cries, her cunt swallowing him whole, dripping as she grinds against him like she is starved.

Her nails scrape against the counter, tiny veins surfacing along her knuckles as she grips the edge.

“I don’t care what you think.” He yanks her head back, until his hot lips hover over her ear, his voice a low, lethal whisper. “I don’t care what you feel.” He thrusts deeper, making her whimper. “You are mine. Your body is mine, your soul is fucking mine. And you see this tight pussy of yours? All. Fucking. Mine!”

Her pretty moans are thick and desperate, her wetness coating his length, dripping down her thighs, slicking the floor beneath them.

“Now.” He releases her hair, but doesn’t let go. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

He pulls out, and her moans turn to a needy whine, her body arching in protest, slick folds clenching around nothing. Pathetic. She has no shame, no dignity, begging for the cock of a man she claims she doesn’t belong to.

“Look at you,” he taunts, rubbing the head of his cock against her swollen clit. “Dripping for me, crying for me. If you want this cock back in your needy little cunt, tell me who you fucking belong to.”

She nods frantically, eyes wide, lips trembling. She is fucking crying for him.

“So.” He tilts her head to the side, a slow smirk playing at his lips. “Who do you belong to, Vivienne?”

“Zev,” she breathes, her lips trembling, desperate, voice wrecked.

The sound of his name on her lips sends a violent jolt through him. His cock jerks, throbbing, aching to ruin, to brand her from the inside.

“Again.” His voice is strained, self-control fraying, sanity slipping as his hip takes her, driving into her without mercy.

“Oh my god,” she whimpers, eyes rolling back as he drives himself to the hilt. “You’re—fuck, you’re so fucking big. I can’t—”

“But you love it, right?” he taunts, biting back his own moan. Her pussy is too tight. Too fucking good. Too, too perfect, he just can’t help it.

“You love how big it is, don’t you?” His fingers dig into her hip, wet sounds piercing through the air as their skin collides in a rhythm. “You like how full your pussy gets when I’m buried deep inside you, right? You like how it tears through your fucking cunt, isn’t it? Is that why you’re always making such a fucking mess? Unable to control yourself? Begging and crying for me to go deeper, to fuck you hard and fast? It’s because you’re addicted to this cock, isn’t it?”

She can’t speak, only nodding, her body convulsing as he pounds into her with the insatiable urge of a beast, her back arching like a puppet on his string, grinding harder into him, trying to match his madness and rhythm.

His heavy pants punctuates the air as he slams into her harder, deeper, again and again until she is nothing but a shaking, incoherent mess beneath him.

“Who owns this fucking pussy?” he demands, each word breaking past his lips followed by a brutal thrust.

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