Page 42 of Lust
“NO!” she screamed, flaying. “Please, Tris. Snap out of this. I’m sorry for not telling you about him sooner. I won’t do it again. Please, please, please let me go.”
She thrashed without restraint, completely wild. She used every one of her limbs to strike me, finally bobbing her head backward to hit my face. I barely felt the attacks, my heart racing as my fingers dipped between the fabric of her thong.
“Please. Tris, please don’t do this! You are my brother. Stop!”
I ripped her underwear down with force, exposing her to the cold floor.
“NO!” Sara shrieked so loud that the sound echoed and bounced off all four corners of the room. Even with her face turned away from me, I knew horror was etched in her expression. A second wind kicked in, sparked by my touch. Raising her feet, Sara kicked back donkey style, making contact with my shin.
The momentary shock was enough to release her wrists, and she used the small window to place both palms on the ground to crawl away. I grabbed her ankle to drag her back with potent force but stopped dead in my tracks at the sound of a loud thud.
Sara had hit her forehead on the wooden floor, falling flat on the ground.
Fuck.
She laid perfectly still, body stretched out underneath me as I loomed over her. Once more, I prayed for divine intervention to save her from these evil clutches, but when she groaned and moved her head side to side—indicating her consciousness—the hardly honorable intentions vanished. Before Sara could regain her full bearing, I flipped her on her back and climbed on top. Crushing her with my full weight, I reached between her thighs to feel the warm heat once more.
Jeans, buttons, flyers, every barrier of mine flew open to free my cock. I grabbed my dick with violent energy and sought out her entrance.
The act turned her lucid. Sara returned to fight mode and grabbed fistfuls of my hair. Driven entirely by rage, she dragged her nails across my arms hard enough to draw blood.
Shaking with my own urge, I bit her shoulder. Hard. Sara let out another bloody murder scream, nearly cracking her raspy voice.
I ground her hips, digging my fingers into her flesh to keep her still, and brutally parted her legs, lining my groin against hers. The moment I made contact, any residual doubt over my actions disappeared. My focus was lasered on the heat coming off her sex, the soft flesh, and the tight opening.
“Tristan, stop!” she shouted desperately, attempting to clamp her thighs together. “Why are you doing this?” she wailed desperately. Sara continued her efforts, using every bargaining chip to break loose. She repeatedly called out for help while I trailed my lips across her hot skin.
I muttered some mumbo jumbo of my own, voice thick with desire. “Because you are mine. Because I can’t walk this earth without you…” I plunged inside Sara mid-thought with one punishing stroke, feeling every bit of resistance from her intact opening.
Before I could process the ecstasy, Sara’s limbs were flailing again. Pain burst at the sites she made contact with, but I blocked out all distractions, oblivious to the physical assaults. While her body inherently fought the intrusion, I determinedly forced myself past the barrier.
I expected her to scream, but she surprised me again.
Radio silence.
The pain was so overpowering that my mind went temporarily numb. It took several seconds to register the sting, and then I screamed at the top of my lungs. My cries filled the room, brought on by the ache from the thick girth ripping me in half.
I wondered if I had passed out from the agony of the piercing shards of blades cutting me open. And for one interveinal moment, I felt no other movements except for his body shaking against mine with tremors. Almost as if he were waiting for me to acclimate, and the effort he exercised was monumental on his part.
Hot breath tickled my cheeks while droplets of sweat from his forehead dripped down. Panting heavily, Tristan trailed his lips over the column of my neck, frantically nibbling on the skin. He tilted his face and kissed me, shoving his tongue inside to explore my mouth greedily.
I weakly threw my limbs about, but the fight in me had grown weak. The insurmountable pain had drained the last of my energy. Even my voice was too hoarse to cry for help, but the inability to use my vocal cords didn’t decrease the piercing throb ripping my insides, torn apart beyond repair. Excruciating tears seeped out of the corner of my eyes, rolling down my cheeks, and when his cheeks brushed against mine, he stilled upon the feel of damp moisture.
I took the lifeline, grappling to form words that might evoke his sympathy. “Tris,” I croaked. “Please, stop. It hurts so much.”
He rested his forehead against mine while stroking my baby hairs with a thumb. For an instant, I let myself believe he was about to snap out of this insanity, and my nightmare was to come to an end.
Instead, he spoke in a gruff voice, “Stop fighting me. Then it won’t hurt so damn much.”
The harsh words settled inside my chest like ice. My stomach churned from the lack of empathy he projected, devoid of humanity. No longer did I bother fighting back. Partly, I was depleted from the earlier exertions, but mostly because I believed him.
“That’s a good girl,” he breathed the gentle encouragement, content that I had stopped screaming and thrashing.
I didn’t respond, wanting this to be over with at any cost. Having agreed to pay the price, I merely drew in bated breaths in preparation for what was to come and braced for the worst.
But there was nothing punishing about what happened next. Whereas the initial penetration had been angry, every move after was made with purpose. Tristan stroked my hair tenderly, amber eyes burning with desire. The gesture reverberated with the deep meaning of stealing my soul. His actions turned so abruptly affectionate and familiar that fresh tears sprung to my eyes.
“It’s okay, Angel. Don’t cry,” he murmured against the tears leaking from my eyes, kissing them away with faux reassurance.
