Rosalind
The resounding crack from where I hit him rings out.
Time seems to stop. We stare at each other as pain ricochets up my arm as my hand goes a little numb. He doesn’t move, apart from shifting his jaw side to side and wiping the spot of blood at the corner of his mouth. He looks at his hand, then at me, and then he wipes the blood on his shirt. Just a spot, but it’s shocking, worse than the actual punch.
Horror engulfs me. What did I do? I should be panicking. I should be thinking he’s going to kill me, but weirdly, I find myself dismissing that thought. Nikolai isn’t going to kill me.
He’s going to punish me. My clit throbs. A smile, slow, vicious and hungry, appears on his face, and my breath tangles somewhere in my lungs. That throb inside me spreads, grabbing at all my nerve endings. He takes a step closer to me, and I…I stumble back, just a little.
Oh fuck.
His grin spreads. Liquid heat starts to flow inside me. I’m scared, I’m horrified, and I’m so damn aroused that there’s no place I want to be but here.
He’s going to punish me. The thought hits me again, this time with deep erotic need.
I want to say something, but I don’t because the longer I don’t speak, the more his hunger grows, the more the violent edge of him sharpens. I want that. I want to be punished. I want to hurt. I want him to make it so filthy and depraved that I’m flying high on him.
I raise my chin and narrow my eyes. The grin turns so nasty and filthy with a hint of sleaze that it makes my heart slam against my ribs. Nikolai takes one more step until he’s almost against me. Almost, but not quite, and the distance is torturous. Then, he grabs me, hand on my throat. A whimper squeaks past my lips, and he uses his hold to throw me to the bed.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I lay there, staring up at those glittering dark eyes and evil wolf smile that gets bigger and badder by the second. My breath is a harsh sound in the room as I scramble onto my elbows. I’m burning all over with anticipation. When he kneels on the bed so he’s on top but not touching me, the heat of him soaks into my bones.
Nikolai’s head comes down, and he sniffs a path from my breasts to my throat. I almost shatter from that alone. He lifts his head and half crawls over me, forcing me flat onto my back as his fists sit on either side of my head, his face a savage work of art.
I just stare at him, my blood buzzing in my veins. I’m so wet, so hot for him, that if I move my thighs, it’s borderline too much pressure.
“So, still not going to fucking talk?”
I go to open my mouth but I keep it shut. I’m so turned on that I’m half insane, but I remember why I punched him, why I stopped speaking. He had said some really messed up things to me. While I don’t want to think he’d hand me over, I can’t guarantee it either, and I want to live. This battle against him and myself is rioting inside me, and right now, I despise him for those words. I hate him for the taunt about releasing me when we know he won’t. Even worse, I hate how easily we fall back into this rhythm, this cat and mouse game. It comes almost naturally. I want to be immune. I want to hurt him, punish him the same way he’s punishing me. I want him to know what lack of power is. I want control back.
So, I don’t speak.
He laughs. It’s an ugly, rough, erotic sound that slides over me, making me shiver. The smile is still there, and he nods. “Well, why don’t we put your sweet mouth to use, then?”
Nikolai rises, looks down at me, studies me. The hunger is almost a fever in his eyes.
In deliberate, sharp moves, he undoes his belt. I don’t know why Nikolai wears one with his suit, but maybe it’s so he can beat women when he feels like it. Sliding it out of the loops, he pulls it taut with a thwack. The sound seems to echo in the room, draw my attention like a rifle shot.
Nikolai doesn’t move. He commands my attention as he holds the belt, looking at me, buckle and end in one hand, the curved middle in the other.
“I think I can definitely put that mouth to better use. Rose, my sweet little filthy girl.” His gaze is hot on my lips. “You want this, don’t you? You do. You’re begging for it with every word you refuse to say. I bet you’re dripping between your thighs, aching. You want me to hurt you, don’t you? Fuck you so hard you can’t see straight? I’m not going to do that. I’m taking that disobedient mouth of yours. That pretty mouth is made for my cock.”
He’s taunting me, riling me up, trying to make me speak. The more he does, the more I resist.
Nikolai releases the belt to one hand and grabs me with the other, hauling me from the bed by a fist in my hair, a fist against my skull, and he pushes me to the floor, pulling me up to my knees. Letting go of my hair, he unbuttons and unzips his trousers and pulls out his cock, fisting it. It’s hard, huge, and those glistening drops of precum make my mouth water.
“Now, Rose,” he says softly, taking my face in his hand with the belt. The other works his cock in savage jerks. The hand on me is gentle, the contradiction of the two staggering. It turns me on even more. “Pretty, sweet Rose with that soft, sweet mouth.” He traces the line of my lips with his finger. The scent of him is intertwined with the smell of the leather from the belt. “A mouth that’s all mine to do with what I want. I want to fuck it.
So, be a good girl for me.”
That dichotomy of soft touch and gentle tone with the lewdness, roughness of his words does wicked things to my blood and bones, my libido. The filth of the things he says, full of nasty barbs, are all thrown with precision at me. The softness. The belt. His hard, huge angry cock.
It’s a complete turn on and even through the haze of hate and anger, I’m so wet and so needy, I can barely think. What he’s saying, it’s like he can see straight into the core of me, into my secret self, past the wars and tangled feelings to the absolute truth.
I should be ashamed, but I’m not. Later, maybe, but not right now. Right now, I want it, all he can give.
“Be a good girl.” Nikolai thumbs my mouth open. “Take my cock.
Fucking play nice, or I’ll make you regret it.”
I open for him, wider, as his thumb skims my tongue. He grins like a hungry, sleazy, filthy wolf, but he doesn’t force himself into my mouth. Instead, he drops the belt over my head and loops it tight around my throat. There’s no gentle easing, no softness now. No sweet touches. I’m his to use, and that’s what he does. He uses me without preamble.
Using the belt, Nikolai lines me up to the perfect position and thrusts hard and deep into my mouth, all the way in, down to the back of my throat, making me gag.
The leather cuts into the back of my neck, but it holds me there on his cock, and I struggle against him. I can’t help it. Nails digging into his thighs, I cough s tears leak from my eyes. It’s too much, too deep, but above me, he lets out a guttural sound of pure male delight.
“Fuck, yes. Fuck.”
Then he begins to move. Nikolai tightens the belt as he uses me like he’s hammering into my pussy, bottoming out in my throat with each thrust. They’re hard and deep and brutal. My mouth is a vessel for him, nothing more. He uses that belt to control, to place, to get his maximum gratification as he thrusts hard into me.
I’m so unbelievably turned on. The belt’s tight, but just enough that it makes the pleasure of this violent act more intense. It makes me drip and my clit throb and my walls start to clench. I want to drop my hand and rub myself, sink fingers into me, and get off. I don’t because I know he won’t like it. This moment is supposed to be about him.
He uses the belt to control me, bring me in, and he tightens and releases, tightens and releases until I’m not even there. I’m in the moment so deep, his cock is the world and getting him off is my only purpose. I want his cock deeper and deeper, and I’m sucking him hard as he thrusts, my tongue flattening to stroke the underside.
More. More. More. It’s a mantra in my head. I want more.
His thrusts become harder, more violent, like he knows what I want, or he just doesn’t care. That turns me on, too. Another spasm of electric pleasure pulsates through me.
I don’t care that each time he hits the back of my throat and pushes further and holds me like that, nose against his pubis, his scent invading every pore, that I can’t breathe. I make a choking sound. I want it. I love it.
I live for it. His cock is my everything right now.
When he pulls back to push back in, I try and follow, but the belt cuts in so I’m left, helpless, as his toy, his thing to control. Even with the frustration of not having what I want, I love every disgusting, depraved moment.
I open as much as I can, sucking him, lapping at him, and another spasm hits me, harder, brighter, more soaked in pleasure than before. I scrabble at his trousers, his thighs, trying to pull him into me.
“Oh, fuck me, Rose. You dirty, filthy thing. This is so fucking good. So good. You’re incredible, beautiful. Fuck, Rose. Fuck. My sweet girl. Oh, Jesus. Suck me harder. Oh, fuck.”
A litany of words fall from him as he skull-fucks me. They start making no sense. He says nasty things, sweet things. He praises me, he calls me his special cunt, which should turn me off, but it doesn’t. He tells me how he’s going to destroy me, mark me, worship me, make me beg. He tells me how beautiful I am like this, how sexy, how I’m made for his cock. So many words, and he just keeps on fucking me without mercy, and I’m a shaking, drooling, slobbering mess. I can’t get enough.
It’s a brutal, hard face fuck, and I just want more and more. I’m whimpering, there’s saliva everywhere, and I think I love him. I think, in this moment, my hate morphs into love. I’d do anything for him. I’d suck him down all day every day, promise him the world, my pussy, my ass, every single part of me because I want his cum in me any way I can get it. I want to drink it down. I’d kiss and lick his cock, service it. I’d let him fuck me anywhere. I’d seduce him morning and night. I’d beg for him. Right now, in this moment, I want-
“Fuck.”
He pulls me off him by the hair, and I moan in protest. He hauls me up and into him, and I must be a wet, gross mess, but he looks at me like a goddess. Then he kisses me hard, thrusting his tongue deep, and the kiss is just as brutal and insanely good as his dick in my mouth.
Nikolai breaks the kiss and rips off the robe I’m wearing off in a flash. I arch for him automatically. With the belt still around my neck, he spins me and rough bends me over the mattress. Then, he slams into my pussy from behind. He doesn’t even touch it, just shoves his cock into me the way he did with my mouth, and I shudder at the pleasure.
I’m his. I’m his. I hate him. I love him. I’m living for this.
I scream as he shoves a finger into my ass at the same time, and I think I come. I can’t tell anymore. I spasm hard as violent pleasure rockets out through me.
“Bad girl, Rose. I didn’t. Give. You. Fucking. Permission. To. Fucking. Come.” He says each word with a hard, rough thrust into me, both with his cock and that finger in my ass.
It’s…oh, God. It’s like nothing before. I want him harder, deeper. I want his cock where his finger is. Deep. I want to be used. I want him everywhere.
Nikolai lets go of the belt and slides that hand around my chest, and he grips one breast as he arches me up against him.
Oh. Fuck. He’s hitting so deep now. The angle change is slight and significant. I feel it everywhere. I can’t move. He just holds me there and uses me. Hard. Fast. Violent. Deep. Bottoming out with each savage thrust.
I’m moaning, crying, sobbing, and then it starts again, huge waves. Pleasure is in every single pore. It’s too much yet somehow not enough, and as he comes, I scream. His grunts of pleasure behind me intensify every electrifying sensation pulsing through me, and in that moment, I realize that I’m in a lot more trouble than I originally thought.
All because of this Nikolai Wilder.