Page 9 of Hostile Bond
Lost in the mania of lust, I fist my dick and align it with her entrance. She hisses when I thrust in deep, swearing as her inner walls take in all of me.
I lose a breath when she cries out from being fully filled, every thrust barbaric. Her head lifts off the desk to watch my pelvis piston relentlessly back and forth, the slapping sound chasing her every sharp exhale.
There’s no chance of stopping me, even if she begged for tenderness. I’m too far gone, driving into her pussy, harder and harder, getting off on the tightness sucking me back in every time. Right now, nothing else matters, only this hardcore union and coming inside of her, when she finally screams her release.
“Fuck…” I growl again, unable to contain my limited self-control.
A spine-tingling shiver catches fire under my skin. This is Heaven trapped in Hell. Our own personal sanctuary where the summons of death lingers in my shadow.
Sex has never felt so important before. It was always a recreational high, a transient rush. But this is more, so much more. Fucking her is a necessity.
We’re joined by vows, body parts, and this inexplicable deep bond.
She’s mine for life.
My primitive appetite feeds on her, taking everything she has to offer. For decades I’ve fucked my way through life without ever wanting to nurture or claim. Yet here I am, pouring everything into a single, unique woman who doesn't care about my exorbitant wealth, or the reign I possess over the sullied world as a Souza. She sees right through it all and pins me to the abstract universe she resides in.
My hands glide and slap, leaving pink marks while I fight for decorum. When my balls cramp and her body spasms, I realize something profound––she isn’t the bright bulb in my infernal darkness––it’s her magnetic prowess that acts as a compass to pull me in a different direction. Her direction.
My balls tighten with fire, the ache to come inside her forever embedded in my psyche. This excruciating, exquisite rush bulldozes through me until I’m choking on the lust projected back at me.
Sweat rolls down my spine. My mind consumed, living for the thrill of fucking her. The sizzle between us is off the charts, but darkness calls to me from the messed-up corners of my mind. A falsified voice speaks to me, the syllables slow and biting. The tone warped and fiery, unlike anything I’ve heard before, even though it's familiar.
I thrust in faster, trying to banish the cruel words the voice from my subconscious spits out at me––Papá. Even from his flaming ferrous throne in the underworld, he’s still tormenting me. Our contorted black souls are forever mangled together due to DNA and despicable deeds.
You let a woman distract you. That’s why Reno is dead.
You did this.
My movements switch to sadistic, hunting the magic between us harder than ever. Only no matter how deeply I fuck her or how many times I bite her glorious soft flesh, my distorted psyche won’t stop messing with me.
Kill her––before someone else dies.
She’ll fill your heart with poison.
Weak men are easily distracted.
A barbaric grunt escapes the back of my throat when she moans.
Real men don’t fall in love… they fuck.
You’re losing yourself…
Do it.
Break her neck.
“No!” I grunt, squeezing my eyes shut to face my internal demons in the darkness. “She’s mine, motherfucker!”
Sinéad freezes and instantly the tingles shooting to my balls fade. Something changes. The black lust I’m still using to fuck her with feels glacial, incoherent, and wrong. Darkness trickles into my veins like sticky tar, the effect of it not slowing me down, but charging my brutal stamina.
“André… wait… stop… please… stop.” My wife’s sexy voice crackles like a dusty vinyl record repeating on a loop, but I can’t contain the storm within me.
It’s too late. I can’t shut it down.
4
SINÉAD
