Why?
I want to ask, probe, reach beneath the metal armor that he wears as a sophisticated fa?ade and tear it apart.
I want so much more, but I can’t say anything as he thrusts inside me. Resistance meets him and I sink my teeth in my bottom lip to not shriek.
Landon pulls out a little, then drives back in. “Your cunt is custom-made for me, little muse. Can you feel it choking my cock?”
More resistance greets him and he wraps his fingers around my throat, choking me until all I can see is his face. Looming, overpowering, and in complete control.
“Relax, Mia. It’s not like you’re a virgin.”
My inner walls crack and shatter into a thousand shreds. My lungs burn and my womb contracts in frightening intervals. I choke on a gasp as a warm liquid seeps between my thighs.
Landon’s pace finally slows down as he stares at the space between us. His eyes narrow on what I assume is my blood as his fingers tighten around my throat.
“Either you conveniently got your period now or you lied to me. Which one is it?”
I lift my chin even as the pain sears inside me. I need him to do something to stop this feeling.
“You’re a virgin?” His voice sounds darkened and distorted in my ringing ears.
I sink my nails into his hand that’s around my throat and squeeze.
“Finish what you started, you fucking bastard,” my eyes communicate, and although he can’t possibly understand that, a sadistic light shines on his brutally beautiful face.
In a flash, he gathers me in his arms and I grab onto him as he kicks off his shoes, pants, and boxer briefs.
Then, while still inside me, he walks inside the studio. He does it effortlessly, as if I weigh nothing, his powerful steps eating up the distance in no time.
While carrying me, he pulls down my dress’s zipper and I help him push it over my head, then the bra follows right after.
My nipples brush against his shirt and I suppress a groan of pleasure. Despite the pain throbbing between my legs, I can’t deny the attraction that beats deep inside me.
I’ve never been as turned on in my life as I am in Landon’s embrace.
I’m in a beast’s arms, wearing nothing but torn fishnet stockings and boots, but I feel strangely safe.
Wanted.
Enveloped in a lusty cloud.
Certainly needed.
Landon pushes a huge blank canvas from the corner of the room and lays me on top of it so that he’s hovering over me.
My legs are still wrapped around his thighs, refusing to let him go for some reason. I’ve been thinking so much about this, imagining and playing it in my head that the thought of it going wrong gives me anxiety.
Both his hands wrap around my throat as he thrusts deeper but at an unhurried pace. The sound of his cock smeared with my blood and arousal echoes in the air like an aphrodisiac.
“Bleed for me.” Thrust. “Break for me.” Thrust. “Make me your one and only.”
My thighs tremble and pleasure knots my belly. The pain slowly but surely explodes into a thousand pleasurable sparks.
I hold on to his muscular arms, not so I can remove them but because I need the anchor. Or maybe I want the connection, as heartless as Landon is.
Not in my wildest dreams did I imagine sex would be this tantalizing. Landon dragged out my most animalistic side and stroked it, literally and figuratively.
The harder he chokes, the stronger the flood of my arousal. The deeper his thrusts, the quicker my breath hitches.
My intelligible sounds echo in the air and he rolls his hips, pulls out, then slams back in again. My back arches as my mouth opens and closes soundlessly.
“Your body is a temple for mine, little muse. I love the feel of your pussy when you’re struggling for air. It clenches and milks my cock so tightly. You’re quickly becoming my favorite fuck hole.”
He pulls out again, only his crown staying inside, and then thrusts back in. “You’ll take every last inch, won’t you?”
I don’t know if I’m too demented to ever be cured, but my hips jerk with every thrust. With each look into his cold, empty gaze, I drown deeper.
For a fraction of a second, I think I see some semblance of emotion, but it’s fleeting and soon disappears as if it was never there.
It probably wasn’t.
I’m the one who’s chasing an impossible notion, hoping, even as I’m torn apart by this beast, that there’s a corner in his soul I can reach.
I’m being devoured by a cold, merciless monster and I don’t want it to stop.
My thighs shake and the orgasm washes over me in long bursts. His thrusts turn animalistic, painful, even, but I revel in each and every one.