I was pulled from sleep by a hand between my thighs, fingers stroking through wet folds, and I squirmed because I was sore — but then Andre found my clit and I didn’t care. Even the throbbing headache from the hangover faded as he woke me up with each sinful, swirling touch, each teasing dip inside me. In moments I was panting, moaning, not caring in the least that I was completely naked, fisting his sheets, and lifting my hips into the air.

I was close, so close.

“Fuck me,” I whined, bucking my hips when he barely slipped his fingers inside again. Pussy tease. Trailing his wet fingers up my mound to my stomach, I felt his weight shift on the bed and finally opened my eyes to see his body stretched out beside me. Andre was hard all over, especially where it mattered most.

Before I could think through what I was doing, I sat up and wrapped my hand around his shaft. He hissed through his teeth, snapping back to the bed as I stroked up, rolling my thumb over the bead of precum leaking from the top of his cock. Hot, firm skin, and I wanted him inside me, but I wanted something else first.

“Nicky,” he growled, reaching for me, but I took him into my mouth and he groaned.

Tracing my tongue along the underside of his shaft, I eased down, then back up, and down again. Steadily working him deeper, relaxing my gag reflex to take his girth into my throat. The first attempt made me choke, and I shifted onto my knees, bringing my other hand to his balls to caress and tease. Returning the favor. The garbled curses, half-English and half-Spanish, made me feel powerful, strong, in control for the first time since I was put in that fucking chair downstairs. Straddling his thigh, I eased down again and swallowed around his cock, finally feeling him slip into my throat.

“Dios mío, yesss…” Andre’s hand moved to the back of my head, fist tightening in my hair, but it was just enough to send a thrill down my spine and make me hum a moan against his shaft. He tasted perfect. Warm, male skin, and as I spilled saliva down to his balls, I squeezed them softly and his hips bucked up, pushing him deep again.

Picking up the pace of my movements, I alternated teasing flicks of my tongue at his tip with deep throating him until my eyes watered and throat burned. It was a challenge I liked. Being momentarily in control of a dangerous killer. My jailer, my protector. He’d gone down on me the night before until I’d begged and pleaded for him to stop, and I had fantasized about this. Turning the tables, making him writhe and twist on the bed with a flick of my tongue and a swallow — and it was working.

He shouted some series of Spanish words at the ceiling and pressed my nose to his stomach, buried deep. No air, so I focused on making him come. Swallowing around his cock, tugging on his balls, stroking my thumb up the base of his shaft until I met my own wet lips. He groaned low, hips pulsing and I knew he was close.

“Fuck! Up, now.” He pulled me off, and I growled, reaching for his cock again only to have him release my hair to grab my wrist. “Spread your legs, Nicky.”

“I wasn’t done.” Staring at him, at the hard ridges of his abs, the ink stretching across his chest with each harsh breath, his dark eyes looking wild… I wanted to argue. I wanted to keep going until he came apart. I’d wanted to be the reason he lost control.

“What did I say?” he growled back, animalistic and raw, and then he lifted his thigh, rubbing between my legs as he flipped us. Immediately rocking against me, I felt the heat flood me as that perfect friction made me desperate again. “Spread. Your. Fucking. Legs.” Each word was punctuated by a pulse against my cunt.

Meeting his eyes, I propped myself on my elbows to bring my mouth close enough to feel the heat of his exhale against my lips. Then I slowly moved my knees apart, his body shifting between them. The hunger in his expression would have had me soaking wet if I wasn’t already, and when he traced his bottom lip with his tongue and looked between us I couldn’t suppress the moan. It came out needy, eager, but in the haze of lust I wasn’t capable of any shame.

Especially not when he looked at me like that.

As if I were something delicious, but valued. His big hand stroked up my thigh, and I felt the scratch of the condom wrapper against my skin. That wicked smirk I’d seen only a handful of times spread over his lips, and I kissed him. Couldn’t have stopped it if I’d tried, and as the heat of the kiss became an inferno, he nipped my lip and shoved me back to the bed. “I’m going to fuck you until it hurts.”

“I’m already sore,” I replied, grinning, and he muttered in Spanish as he ripped the wrapper open and slid the latex over his perfect dick.

“Then feel free to scream, belleza. You know how much I like it.” Fisting my hair again he hauled me upright, and then lifted me as if I weighed nothing, positioning me over his cock. I reached between us to line him up, feeling the flare of his cock head as he pushed inside the first inch. My knees on either side of him, I was already breathing hard, the intensity of his gaze roving down until he was staring at the place we were joined.

In one hard jerk of his hands at my waist, he was buried deep and I gasped, arching, rolling my hips as the tender ache turned into a twisted kind of pleasure.

“Ride me.”

I didn’t need to hear it a second time, my body was already moving. Up, down, circling as his cock stroked every place I wanted it to, but with his fingers digging into my waist, his strength helping each of my movements along, I couldn’t tell who was in control anymore. Him? Me?

Who the fuck cares?

Andre leaned forward, sucking a nipple into his mouth and I arched to make it easier, to soak up the pleasurable tug — but then he bit down and I screamed. Nails digging into his shoulders as the sharp pain spread, intensified, and then got confused as he slammed into me. Deep inside, and I spread my knees wider to let him do it again, harder. That strangely pleasurable ache as he hit my cervix overwhelmed the pain in my breast, and I was shivering, teetering, trying to push and pull against the blur of sensation. And then his teeth lifted, sucking the nipple in to soothe it with his tongue as he drove his cock in again, and I came apart. Ecstasy rushing in on the heels of the lingering pain, burning neon colored tracks through my veins, behind my eyes, scattering over my nerves to tighten every muscle as I cried out. Shouting God, and Andre, and a stream of expletives that would have made more sense if I’d been capable of thought.

I couldn’t tell up from down, but I knew when Andre’s weight settled over me, continuing to fuck me through the orgasm with every powerful inch of muscle in his body. He groaned against my ear, whispering shit I couldn’t understand, and I dug my nails into his back to pull him closer. Dizzy when he kissed me and ripped the air from my lungs. It was as rough as he was, my lips felt swollen and bruised from all the bites and the brush of the scruff on his cheeks, but it was perfect. Just like the feel of his cock splitting me over and over.

“You’re mine, belleza.” The words came out against my throat as he kissed and licked, before the force of his thrusts made it impossible to maintain. I wanted to respond, to give some kind of answer, but even as my legs wrapped around his hips I wasn’t sure if the answer would be positive or negative.

To be or not to be, isn’t that always the fucking question?

Another orgasm forced the internal struggle to shut up, and I reveled in the flush of heat up my chest as I moaned and gasped, holding on to his broad shoulders. For a moment everything fell away, in that bliss-filled escape where it was just us. No house, no Paulo, no debt, no threats — just Andre. The center of my fucked up universe for the space of a few breaths as lust and pleasure thundered through me with enough force to have me torqueing off the bed underneath him. Empty bliss. That’s all I wanted, and it didn’t seem like too much to ask.

“Again,” I pleaded, and he laughed against my ear and bit down on the place where my neck met my shoulder. A painful thrill into the chaos of my nervous system, and I found myself moaning instead of screaming. Crossed wires, signals flooding down the wrong paths, but for once it was to my benefit.

Andre was everything wrong in my life. Violence, and drugs, and bad men doing worse shit. I should have been fighting him, should have fought him the entire fucking time… but I didn’t. I was as weak as the next person, choosing the lesser of the evils instead of dying with my morals.

But, fuck, morality never felt this good, so why would anyone choose it?

“Please.” I was barely aware of begging, but I wanted him to push me over the edge again before he came. Wanted to hold on to the haze of euphoria for just a little longer, and he could give it to me. He had every fucking time.

Then he pulled out, and I gasped, looking up at him as he turned and got off the bed, but he wasn’t gone long. Big hands at my waist, he hauled me to the end of the bed with a sharp jerk, sliding his hands down my hips to the insides of my thighs. Gradually spreading me as he stared down between my legs. “Your pussy sore, belleza?”

“I like it,” I whispered, swallowing when his fingers dug in.

“You like it when I make it hurt?” Andre slid his hands out, pressing my thighs wide as he went, until I felt that burning strain as he tested the limits of my flexibility. Still, I nodded, because admitting it couldn’t make this situation any more fucked up than it already was. His tongue traced his bottom lip, one hand gripping his cock to run it over my entrance to my clit and back again. “Say it.”

Looking up, I felt exposed, vulnerable, but not afraid, even though I had a million fucking reasons to be. Something about him made me want to trust him. I couldn’t tell if that was insanity or lust or sheer stupidity — yet in the end none of my reasons mattered. I still wanted it. I wanted him to make it hurt. I wanted him to make me scream.

I wanted him.

“I like it when you make it hurt, Andre. I… need it.” The last words came out on a whisper, but he stilled for a moment, and then slid deep. Slowly, until he could grind against me, teasing my clit with just enough pressure to make me pant, rocking against his firm grip in search of more.

“Again,” he demanded as he slammed in a little harder, pushing my thighs wider until I whimpered from the strain.

“I need it to hurt!” As soon as the words left me he jerked my ass to the very edge of the bed, driving in until I felt the pinch of pain as he bottomed out, but I craved it, really needed it. That hadn’t been a lie. When he repeated it, I moaned, arching off the bed hard enough to look at the wall behind me. The world narrowed down to the place where our bodies met. The steadily increasing impact of his hips, the ache as he pushed my thighs further, making me tighten around his cock as I struggled against his strength.

The moment his thumb rolled over my clit I tried to sit up. Too sensitive, too raw, but his other hand landed around my neck to pin me to the bed. He squeezed, and I couldn’t get enough air. Not choking, not completely, but it meant I couldn’t avoid the painful pleasure as he tormented that bundle of nerves that seemed to control my whole body. I twitched and tried to moan, to cry out, but it all came out as sputtered gasps and groans through his hold on my throat.

“Fuck… yes, belleza. Fight me.” The twisted satisfaction in his voice made me want to struggle. Reaching for his hips with one hand, I pushed against him, and he laughed low as he slammed deep inside me again — but that hadn’t been my plan. With his focus there, I hit his wrist with my other hand, and managed to knock his grip from my throat for a moment.

Deep breath, cool air into my lungs to soothe the raging inferno inside, even though I didn’t want it to go out. I didn’t even really want to win, I just wanted to make him work for it. His hand landed on my neck again, and I grabbed his thumb, wrenching it backward as I bucked my hips against his, tilting enough for his next thrust to be just a little deeper. Enough to make me gasp in delirious pain before he managed to break free and pin my wrist to the bed.

“You’re such a brave girl, but you know you can’t stop me, right?” His grip on my wrist tightened as his other hand returned between my thighs, finding my clit with way too much ease. I moaned, weakened by the steady pulse of his hips, the incessant drive of his cock that made my body jerk in response to the unmistakable pleasure. “I can make you take it for as long as I want you to…”

“Yes.” I nodded, lifting my hips to meet his next thrust, and the clap of our bodies meeting made my inner muscles grip him tight. His deep groan was music to my ears, even pinned and tormented, it was a tilt of the control. “Make me take it,” I urged, egging him on, practically purring as he bent over me and fucked me harder than before.

A stream of Spanish left him as he drove deep, pain and pleasure blending until I was nothing but a humming network of nerves, his fucking thumb tweaking my clit to drive me higher and higher. Precarious, hanging over empty space, I could barely breathe as I got closer and closer to my next climax.

“Hold it,” he demanded. “Wait.” But he didn’t lift his touch from my clit, and suddenly my stomach was cramping, thighs painfully taut as I tried to hold it back.

“Please, Andre, pl—”

“No.” The finality of it made me whine to the air above me. Closing my eyes against the unreal sight of his abs tightening and releasing as he drove his cock deep, he released my wrist to grab my thigh and bent me at just the right angle for him to hit that painful, but incredible depth again and again.

Over, and over, and over, and I knew I was babbling. Begging. Pleading. Fists clenched in the sheets just so I wouldn’t stop it, because I didn’t want to stop it. I just wanted him to come, to give me permission to come, to fall apart one more time so the world would disappear again. I wanted that emptiness, that perfect vacuum of post-orgasmic bliss.

“Hurt me!” I shouted, desperate, and his touch left my clit, one hand grabbing my jaw as the other pinched a nipple and viciously twisted, and I screamed. Loud enough to recognize my voice echoing off the ceiling.

Andre shouted, driving deep as his hand slid down to my throat and gripped tight. My scream choked off, and I felt his cock kick deep. The jerk of his body against mine pushing me over the edge, light exploding behind my eyelids like the flash of a camera but sustained for longer than possible. Everything hummed, from my hair to my toes, and I lost even the awareness of his touch for a moment.

Pure, absolute paradise… it was mine, and I held on desperately. Wanted to never let it go, because returning to my body was returning to all the fucked up shit that came with it, and so I let myself float. On a sea of ethereal after-shocks. Riding the tingling pulses of tender nerves. Pain and pleasure so inextricably intertwined that they held no real meaning anymore. I hurt, and I didn’t. I was happy, and I wasn’t.

It was perfect. And not.

Perfectly imperfect.

But, what more could I ask for? My life was a kaleidoscope of shit, and I deserved a few selfish moments of hedonistic pleasure. Something that was just for me. Fuck Andre, fuck his pleasure, I was surfing on a tidal wave of chemicals that let me rise above all of it.

I just wanted to exist for once. Not for someone else, not for any specific purpose. Just for me. Was that so much to ask?

When warmth wrapped around me, smelling like male skin and sex, I didn’t flinch, I just let it happen. Let it soothe me. I let the sheets drape over me and breathed deep, because waking up was trouble and if this was a dream… I didn’t want it to end.