Page 43 of Lust
With no more protests to voice, I took the abuse as he drew his hips back and plunged forward, this time at a mercifully slow pace. He waited before repeating until finding a rhythm that was neither painful nor enjoyable.
I could tell he was watching me even with my eyes closed shut. I didn’t want to bear witness to his pleasure. The physical anguish couldn’t compare to the emotional turmoil, and a visual would only prove more disturbing. Tristan didn’t seem to mind and took his fill until he was shuddering from head to toe.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whispered gravely as he ground into me over and over before grabbing the nape of my neck for a kiss.
I turned away, but he dragged my face back, lips finding the center of mine for an unrestraint kiss. He squeezed my breast, an earthy groan reverberating.
“God, Angel. These are perfect. I’ve wanted a taste of this for so fucking long.”
He yanked down the built-in bra of the lingerie piece even as I tried to pull the fabric up to cover myself. Goosebumps from the cold exposure sprung to my hot, flushed skin, creating a contrasting sensation. Kissing down the valley of my breasts, he swiped his tongue along the outline of my cleavage. His mouth landed on my nipple, and he sucked so hard that I screamed again. But when he moved to the other one for repeat treatment, I was hit with a hot and cool combination. The odd sensation muddled my mind, and for the first time since the start of his horrific experience, the pain between my thighs dulled away.
“So close, baby,” he rasped. “But I need you with me when I come inside you.”
Lascivious intents dripped from his voice before another obscene act came into play. Dropping his hands between us, Tristan firmly rubbed my sex, which was no doubt mingled with fluids and blood. He hugged me to his body as his fingers circled my swollen clit, keeping with the rhythm of his gentle thrusts.
“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered as the fingers between my thighs sped up, resolute to finish what they started.
Surrendering, I let him have at it, transporting myself to somewhere else entirely in my mind. It was difficult to escape his lewd hands on my body. No skin was left unturned in his explorations. He was so intentional with the touches that it seeped deeper and deeper until he reached my mind and violated my thoughts.
Dazed, I could only focus on his deep moans, the hot breath fanning my cheeks, and the peppered kisses along my breasts. My lubrication coated his fingers while I felt dizzy enough to pass out.
“Fuck, baby, does that feel good?” he said frantically, pleasure spiking in his voice.
Feeling light-headed, I closed my eyes. The haze was so thick that I didn’t realize Tristan had returned to my parted lips, brutally taking my mouth. There were too many stimuli and far too many caresses to keep track of, and I forgot to jerk away.
“That’s it, Angel.”
He was no longer moving inside me, only the insistent fingers rubbing between my lips with determination. The warmth emanating from them inflamed the heat spreading in my core.
An intense pressure grew with the urgency to break free. My mind turned into a blank slate, sweat beads covering my furrowed brows. In my lethargy, I could no longer stop what was threatening to implode inside me and transport me to the abyss.
Tristan kept kissing me all the while, tongue licking my bottom lip with a silent encouragement to let it happen. It was impossible not to under his relentless fingers, and the being that threatened to break loose finally did so with an explosive scream that came from my startled shock and Tristan’s awestruck words. “That’s it, baby. That’s it. Come for me. Come for me so hard.”
He started thrusting inside me, unleashed. I didn’t feel any more pain, only a throbbing that stretched each time he hit my swollen cunt.
“Fuck, yes!” he groaned, his heavy weight deflating over me with the warmth of his seed spreading inside my belly.
Not a single word passed between us.
What in the hell could I say anyways to make it better?Sorry I raped you,wouldn’t exactly cut it.
I shifted slightly so my weight wouldn’t crush her. For several minutes, I fumbled with my clothes while Sara said nothing.
“Angel?” I coaxed when she still hadn’t moved.
Sara was stretched out on the floor and noiseless other than the rapid sound of harsh breaths. Her indifference was so unprecedented that I panicked.
First, I made sure she was conscious. Next, I checked her pulse, which was thrumming at an alarming rate. I searched for other signs of trauma when I caught sight of… blood. There was blood between her thighs.
Fuck.
My windpipes tightened to the point of choking me.
I did that.I used the only woman I cherished to satisfy my demented needs, leaving her broken in the process.
Hastily, I picked her up in bridal style and laid her on my bed. I darted to the bathroom for a washcloth and returned promptly to clean her. The act of wiping away blood and semen with a damp cloth turned into the equivalent of a sponge bath. I ran it over her body like a devoted servant, peeling off the tattered lingerie to replace it with one of my oversized T-shirts that went down to her thighs. Finally, I pulled the covers to her chest.
I had assumed she’d snap out of it by now, but Sara lay there with her eyes closed as if dead.Or perhaps she wished for death.
