Page 58 of Crossed
My mind goes blank, a primal need rushing through me.
Ineedto touch her.
Ineedto feel her against me.
Ineedto erase what any other man has made her feel, to ruin her for even God, until the only one she can pray to is me.
But it’s not my fault.It’s God’s for not making man as strong as the devil.
My hand glides back down her body, memorizing every single curve until I dip in the waistband of her skirt. Precum leaks from my throbbing cock when I meet warm and wet flesh instead of the fabric I expect.
“Fille sale,” I groan. “So wet for me.”
She moans when I graze my thumb across her clit, fingers slipping effortlessly between her folds from how soaked she is. I bite down on the inside of my cheek until copper floods my mouth.
It’s beensolong since I’ve touched a woman sexually.
“Merde.”
I slide inside her, her inner walls hugging my fingers like a vise and making me hang on to my control by a simple, flimsy thread. I am…lostto her.
My thumb continues to stroke her clit until it swells, both of her hands wrapping around my wrist so tightly that her nails break my skin.
The pain makes a small spurt of cum leak from my tip.
I sink my teeth into her neck, her taste exploding on my tongue like ambrosia, and when she starts moving her hips against me, I thrust back, pushing her into the wall and finger fucking her until she cries out.
My other hand, still tangled in her hair, pulls sharply, making her back bow against me, and I swear I could die right now and burn in hell forever as long as I kept the memory of feeling her come undone beneath my hands.
“Cette chatte est à moi,” I whisper before swiping my tongue across the expanse of her neck.
“Oh God,” she moans.
I pump my fingers harder, my own muscles tensing, my cock growing so thick it’s about to burst through my pants. How incredible it would feel to rip away her skirt and sink deep inside her. To split her apart, feel her legs wrapped around my hips and her cunt squeezing me until I paint her womb with my cum.
“Come for me,” I command.
My thumb presses down on her clit and she moans, long and loud, her body vibrating as her walls contract around me.
The sounds pouring from her lips send me over the edge, and I explode, blinding white light bursting behind my eyelids as my dick pulses, sharp contractions that drain what feels like years of pent- up sexual frustration. It’s hot and messy and I’ve never felt so much pleasure or relief.
We both stand still for a few moments after, my grip in her hair so tight I’m unsure if I’ll be able to untangle my fingers. I rest my forehead in the crook of her neck, my skin sticky from exertion as I try to regulate my breathing.
As soon as I do, the guilt of my actions hits hard.
I push away from her, my limbs cold and emotions wild.
“Leave,” I demand.
“I…what?” she asks, spinning around and running her hands through her hair.
“You”— I point my finger at her—“are nothing more than a temptress, awitchsent to lead me astray. Just like your mother said.”
“Of course you’ve heard about my mother.” And then she laughs.
As thoughanyof this is funny.
I rush forward so fast she stumbles into the wall.
