"Pretty girls like you get lost in these woods all the time, Alexa."
On the night of Sebastián's annual Beginning of Summer Bash, amiable and adventurous Melody Tryniski went missing. What might have appeared as a juvenile escapade - a casual incide...
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I FEEL HIM INSIDE of me, growing strong and thrusting deep. Him, demanding as his hands encircle around my neck, his hips moving aggressively in between my inner thighs; me, below him, gasping for air as I feel the added pressure on my neck.
With each constricting of my throat, the gasps begin to sound like moans. It makes a raucous next to the slapping of his skin as it connects with mine, his breathing harsh on my face. My nails are digging into his strong back, sliding down and scratching every patch of skin - some of its residue under my nails, white and satisfying.
I squint my teary eyes at him, teeth grinding together as I tempt him to add more pressure. There's a moment of silence, his thrusts turning slower and my moans getting weaker, before his eyes glint with mischief as he settles his gaze on my perky breasts. A grin grows on his handsome face, devilish and lustful, and he continues with his thrusting and choking; thrusting and choking.
My eyes roll back as the ecstasy consumes me, the pleasure of having him in and out of me, the feeling of his callous fingers playing with my neck. The danger of this moment ignites my lust, to be with someone forbidden, to know the wild wanting inside that pretty little head of his. He might be on top of me, dominating and crushing me with his weight, but I'm the one in control.
I'm always the one in control.
To have him on top of me, invading my personal space, him being my only source of oxygen, is suffocating -and I like it just this way. Dark, dangerous, seductive. I'm drunk on this feeling of lightness, like I'm weightless and weak, but still in control. It's addictive.
His grunts become more urgent, his hands trailing down until they settle on either side of my hips. He's ready to cum and I'm eager to receive. The hold he has on my hips tightens so much that it'll probably leave some bruises behind, and his thrusts become unbearable, fast flashes of pain. I open myself to the pain and invite him to cause more chaos, despite this growing ache that tears through me.
I'm in love with this ache, this momentary pulse of vulnerability.
A strand of hair falls on his forehead, the piece sticking to it, and I gently brush it back as my body whimpers. I'm moving up and down, up and down, up and down, my head hitting the headrest with a numbing clatter. He removes his hands from my hips to put them on either side of my head, his body falling on mine. It's a struggle to be beneath him when he's just there, dead weight on my delicate body.
His grunts are smooth next to my ear, the aftershave scent and the smell of bourbon in his breath making me lightheaded. I cradle his body against mine, hand poised on the back of his neck, the other one resting on a bruise on his back. My legs close around his hips and he allows it, probably tired of taking control. I wait for him to find his release as I concentrate on mine. As soon as we both find it - him, screaming the word fuck; me, moaning like a wounded animal - a warm liquid flows inside of me, mixing with my own.
