Page 102 of Executing Malice
I’m tied naked to a bike, what choice do I have but to obey as he leans in? His fingers trail from my collarbone down to my chest. They trace over my nipples. Tease the bars. Roll the helpless little bud beneath his thumb. Every graze makes me shiver and arch against the restraints.
I bite back a moan. The seat presses into my back as I arch to offer him everything.
He leans down and lets his lips ghost across the side of my neck. His filthy, depraved promises of everything he’s going to commit to my body burns the flesh as he descends down my chest. One hand slips between my thighs to explore and tease my drenched apex. My clit throbs under his touch and I whine.
“Are you ready to take me?” He laps at my nipple and lets the cool breeze follow suit with a sharp nip. “Ready to get my cum deep in your cunt?”
I feel like all I’ve done my whole life is be ready for this. I hadn’t expected it would happen at the back of a drive in, surrounded by people I know, but I would rather die than ask him to stop.
“Yes. Please.”
I even anchor my heels into some part along the bottom of the bike and spread my knees in invitation.
Dante chuckles coldly and moves to stand between them. “I’m not going to be gentle.” His fingers rip open his belt. The metal jingles faintly under the tinny echo of voices over the speakers built around the field. “You’re going to take it. You’re going to let me use you as my personal breeding hole.”
I swallow audibly and watch, fascinated, as he drags his hands up my knees, over my thighs to frame my sex. My lips are spread. He studies my opening for a long moment before undoing his button. Then his zipper.
His cock springs free and I shift with anticipation.
Over my head, a male actor is yelling at someone. I can’t focus when Dante straddles the bike between my knees.
It doesn’t seem comfortable with his pants bunched up around his hips, but he doesn’t seem concerned about it when he lines his head with my opening.
“Last chance, baby. Fast or slow?”
It’s been a full day of edging between this morning in the living room, the kitchen, nearly in the staffroom .... I need to cum.
I need his cock.
Him.
I need him like I have never needed anything in my life.
“Fuck me, Dante,” I breathe, never taking my eyes off the place he has us nearly joined. “I want to feel you tomorrow.”
His low growl scorches the side of my face as he leans over me. One hand lifts to brace against the handlebars, over the links of my cuffs. The other slips under my hips.
“I love you,” he ghosts against my lips. “I need you to remember that because I’m going to fuck you like I fucking hate you.”
My heart claps in my chest at the raw intensity behind his eyes gleaming in the shadows. The sweet earnestness right before he kisses me.
It’s slow, loving. It’s the kind of kiss that melts through my entire soul and promises forever. It’s also the kind of kiss that distracts a woman right before she’s impaled on every inch of barbed cock.
The kiss hardens with my scream. It becomes as brutal and violent as the row upon row of metal ripping up inside me. Each bar, each ball stretches me, drags across my wall to slam my base.
I barely get a chance to catch my breath when he’s yanking out, only to thrust back in.
There is no gentleness. No mercy. He is fucking me like I murdered his entire family. He’s kissing me like I don’t deserve air. All the while, he growls he loves me, and all I can do is clutch the handlebars and take it.
Take every drive and whimper, “Harder.”
Despite the spiderwebs of pain splintering across my belly, the cramps in my thighs as I try to pull my legs around his hips, it feels so good. So right.
So familiar.
“Turn me over,” I pant.
He doesn’t question or argue when he yanks out, grabs my hips and repositions me. The turn has my arms crossing where the cuffs catch, but when he captures my hips, drags me closer to the edge and fucks me ... it’s perfect.
