Page 94 of Forgotten Sacrifice
Thirty-Six
Luna, a few weeks later…
“I’m good enough. Oh, God.” I grip the bathroom vanity as Vince fucks me from behind.
“Again.” He pulls out and thrusts deep; the filthy sound of his pelvis smacking my ass fills the room.
I moan, watching us in the mirror as my body trembles. “I’m good enough.”
“Yes, you are. And what’s happening today?” He pulls out and thrusts back inside me.
“I’m becoming a Grandmaster.”IfI win three out of the nine rounds in today’s tournament.
“Again.” He pulls out and, I arch my back, needing him to thoroughly fuck me already.
“I’m becoming a Grandmaster!”
“Better,” he murmurs, lifting me to my tiptoes with each forward thrust of his hips. He releases hold of my right hip, snaking his hand to my stomach. It hollows as he moves his hand lower, circling my clit with the pads of his fingers.
“Mmm, Vince.”
He pulls out, and I back my ass up in search of his dick.
“Your cunt’s so greedy, Luna.” He slows his work of my clit, rubbing lazy circles.
“Please, Daddy.”
He hums his approval, the sound vibrating its way straight to my pussy. “Love it when you beg.” He begins to fuck me in slow, long thrusts, my toes curling on the cold tile floor as my knuckles blanch from holding onto the vanity so damn tight. “Love it even more when your pussy gushes on my dick.”
“Make my pussy gush on your dick, then,” I challenge, clamping down on his dick with all my might.
The smooth rhythm of his hips falters, and I smirk at him in the mirror. “Luna, Luna,” he chides. “Still thinking you control me with this pussy. I shouldn’t let you come?—”
I release one hand from the vanity, desperately rubbing my clit; I’m so worked up, I come immediately. “Fuck!”
“Bad girl.” Vince growls, slamming his dick into me as he wraps a hand around my throat. He sets a punishing pace, fucking me so hard it borders on pain.
I don’t know which I love more: being his good girl, or being punished for being his bad girl. Like I said, I’m completely fucked up.
“Lu-na.” He says my name on a roar as he empties himself inside me.
Pulling out, he locks eyes with me in the mirror as he places a single kiss on my neck. I still won’t let him kiss me on the lips. My reasons for refusing him becoming less clear as the days pass.
Endgame. Remember your endgame principles.
Vince turns on the shower for me and says, “I’m going to make breakfast. Can I trust you with a razor by yourself?”
I square my jaw. “Yes.”
“Good girl.”
After a shower and a shave where Vince isn’t monitoring me, I towel dry my hair and throw on my outfit for today’s tournament—a hoodie and skirt. Surprise. Surprise.
Entering the kitchen, I sit at the table, watching Vince behind the stove. This has become my favorite seat in the house; obviously, as it has the best view. His back muscles bunch as he slices and dices, and while he may get pleasure in watching me eat, the pleasure’s all mine watching this man cook shirtless.
Vince presents my plate with the flourish of his hand.
“What is this?” I snort a laugh. It’s a waffle with an angry emoji face, topped with a crown of bacon slices.
