Page 27 of For Love & Torture
And I can’t allow that to happen. Pulling my cock out of her, I turn her over and pull her up on her knees then slam my cock into her again. She moans and presses her round, firm ass against me, making me go deeper. Then she falls to the bed on her chest, and I go in even further.
Fucking her hard and fast, I smack her ass over and over and feel her juices increase. “You little slut. You grow more and more wet with each strike.” I yank her hair back, making her neck arch as I pull her up off the mattress. Her cunt clenches on my cock, letting me know that excites her too. “You little whore. You love it when I’m rough with you.”
“I do,” she groans. “I’m your slut, your whore. Only yours, sir. Always yours.”
Always mine.
I don’t even want that.
Do I?
Pulling my cock out of her once again, I turn her on her back, pinning her body to the bed as I straddle her. “Open up.”
She opens her mouth and I press my fat cock into it as I lean over her and hold onto the headboard to fuck her sweet mouth, her ruby red lips. Lips that barely need to touch mine to take me a thousand miles away at any given moment.
Everything about Isabel appeals to me. Tempts me. And I hate it.
I hate it all.
I hate how badly my cock needs to be inside of her. I hate how badly my heart aches when she’s not around. I hate how fucking much I think about her.
“Take it, you bitch. Take it all. You want me? You love me? We’ll see how much longer you can do that.” I move faster and faster as I watch her deep throating me without any problem at all.
She moves her hands up and down my abs, playing with them. Then she moves them lower, running one over the shaft of my cock as it leaves her mouth while the other plays with my balls at the same time.
With a sharp groan, I feel the orgasm moving through me and shoot my load into her mouth. She swallows it all as she moans with pleasure.
How the fuck she got pleasure out of that I will never understand. Even when I’m not being a good Dom, she’s still being the perfect sub.
But the orgasm has settled me somewhat. I shudder with relief. Then guilt moves in, shoving the fear and hatred aside. For now, anyway.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” I move away from her and go get her a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge. Pulling her up, I hold the bottle to her trembling lips.
She takes a long drink then sighs as I pull the bottle away. “You can’t make me hate you. No matter how hard you try, you can’t do that.”
“I will.” I put the bottle down on the bedside table and climb under the blanket. Pulling her into my arms, I kiss the top of her head. “I will make you hate me. You’ll see.”
Cuddling up to me, Isabel kisses my chest then lays her head on it. “I love you. I always will. Goodnight, Grant.”
I’m exhausted. Utterly and entirely. I can’t fight her anymore. I can’t.
But that nasty voice in my head that knows there is no such thing as a love that will last forever pops up inside of me. “You will hate me one day. You will decide I don’t deserve you, and that is because I don’t deserve you. You should push me away, instead of always drawing me in. You should tell me no when I ask you to stay with me. If you had an ounce of self-preservation, you would tell me to fuck off and mean it.”
She raises her head and looks me in the eyes, finally looking a little annoyed, though patience and affection lurk there too. “Just fucking tell me that you love me too, already. I’m kind of getting tired of waiting for you to say it.”
Do I love her?
If I don’t then why does my heart ache to think of losing her? If I don’t then why does my body crave hers? If I don’t then why can’t my mind stop thinking about her and how wonderful and perfect she is?
It’s been one horrible month without her in my arms. Every night I go into her office to walk out with her as we close up. Every night we go eat with the other owners and talk about the things that happened. And I have had to hold back when all I wanted to do was take her hand. I’ve kept my mouth closed tightly every time she’s gotten out of the car at her place, instead of mine. I’ve wanted to take her home each and every night, but wouldn’t allow myself to ask.
Then my brother shows up and makes me go into the house that fills my nightmares and here I am. In bed with the woman who loves me and would do anything for me. And I can’t even give her three little words to thank her for everything she’s done for me.
But that fear, that gnawing notion that love is a lie answers for me, “I do not love you and I never will.”
What is wrong with her?
What is wrong with me?
