Ruin & Rule

I bit my lip as he stroked me again, dragging his large fingers through my wetness—the wetness he’d conjured when he’d kissed me so damn passionately.

What was this? This impersonal act reeked of self-preservation on his part. He didn’t want me to face him, touch him—give any hint that I had feelings for him other than sexual.

He’s protecting himself.

“Fuck, you’re so ready for me.” I didn’t know if that was awe or disgust in his voice.

My mind was intrigued with what was happening but my heart was revolted. I didn’t sign up to be used like a plaything. I’d agreed to let him connect with me.

Every second that connection faded, until we might’ve been strangers and money was about to exchange hands.

Stop this.

The word echoed in my brain.

You can’t.

My hair stuck to my neck as my body flushed. I had to go through with this. I had to break inside his heart if I had any hope at learning more. Maybe sex was the key.

Deciding to take what this was—a release for both of us and nothing more—I murmured, “I was ready for you the moment you kissed me in the changing room.”

He made a noise in his chest. “Yes, that was a mistake on my part.”

“A mistake?” My voice turned soft. “A kiss can never be a mistake. I loved it.”

He growled low. “I don’t kiss. I have my reasons why.”

The sadness in his tone drove me wild.

Tell me!

He suddenly inserted a finger deep inside me, causing my back to bow and my skin to break out in goose bumps.

Oh God.

There were no butterflies or sparks. His touch was a spear, fast and swift, building need in an instant.

He withdrew, smearing my wetness around my clit, stroking me hard, fast, and with expert precision.

My legs trembled and my arms burned with the awkwardness of staying on all fours. I wanted to collapse from pleasure.

“Have you had sex before?”

I struggled to understand the question while he touched me so exquisitely. I racked my brain, trying hard to remember. Surely, I should remember something like that—something so basic?

You don’t even know your age. How could you know if you’ve had sex when your name and birth date are more important than lovers?

I hung my head. “I don’t know.”

Kill grunted, moving his fingers from my clit and sliding back inside me. The delicious pressure and rocking of his touch unspooled me. I panted, my hips moving on their own accord.

“God—please… more…” The words spilled from my mouth.

Obeying, he added another finger, stretching me with delicious dominance. I cried out as he sank deep and wriggled his digits inside, spreading intensity through my pussy.

My legs tried to scissor together, but he pressed on my lower back, keeping my legs spread and at his mercy. “I don’t think you’re a virgin. You’re tight but two fingers shouldn’t bring you such pleasure.”

I shook my head, gritting my teeth, wishing it didn’t feel so good—not when he was analyzing me as a piece of equipment rather than a woman.

“Please…” I murmured again, not even sure what I was begging for. A hug? A kiss? A kind word?

Kill drove his fingers harder, his voice full of sin. “A few things you should know about me, sweetheart.”

He expected me to listen? When all I could do was feel.

“I’m going to fuck you. I’ll fuck you until I come, and I’ll be grateful for the release. But I will never kiss you, tongue you, stroke you, or snuggle. I don’t want your lips around my cock. I don’t want your arms around my neck. And I certainly don’t want your love.” He brought his fingers up to my clit again, pressing hard and almost cruelly against me.

Sparks erupted; my nipples throbbed.

The pressure was good. Too good. The unhurried but fast pace was mind-blowing; the sensation of being hated, all while being turned on, twisted my moral compass until I couldn’t understand where I stood in this new world.

“Do you agree to those terms?”

I panted, stars popping behind my eyes. An orgasm built from nowhere and I forced my pussy harder into his hand.

He gasped, rubbing hard and fast, his other hand gripping my hip and rubbing his hard cock against the crack of my ass. “Come, sweetheart. I won’t wait for you once I’m inside you. This will be fast—a means to an end. I want to be inside you, but mark my words, this is not making love.”

His touch turned even more brutal, and I had no choice but to propel myself down the slippery slope and leap into the nether, where fireworks, symphonies, and crashing waves of passion ignited between my legs.

“God, oh God… shit!”

My entire body spindled then unraveled in a cataclysmic release. I moaned loudly, collapsing from my elbows and face-planting into the covers.

The vague sound of foil tearing, the angry grunt of Kill as he rolled the condom onto his length, and then the pinching, possessing, consuming pressure of being taken smashed through my senses.

His heat smothered me; the long, thick intrusion of his cock stretched me with no softness or shyness. He took me as if I’d always belonged to him.

The instant he sank inside, he hissed, “Fuck.”

The power of that little word, and the violent reaction he had, set my body aching with the need to release. Again.

Shuddering, his hand squeezed the base of himself as he sank farther and farther. Inch by inch, he sheathed himself until I couldn’t move without feeling him everywhere.