The gun fallsto the floor, and I sink to my knees, my hands scrambling to help him cover the hole in his chest, but my efforts are in vain. The minutes it takes for him to wheeze out hisst breath are the longest in my entire life. His fingers suddenly mp down on mine and then release, his arms falling tohis<span>side.
I grab his shoulders. “Vic!” Gracines to my side, and I nce up, desperate. “Call 9-1-<span>1!”
When Gracin doesn’t move, I p at him. “Go call 9-1-<span>1!”
He only stares at me with a carefully unreadable expression, and it makes me want tohurt<span>him.
“Why are you just staring at me? He’sdying!”
With a reserve that infuriates me, Gracin says, “There’s nothing you can do.He’s<span>dead.”
I push off from the floor, unable to endure looking at Vic’s nk gaze but not knowing what to do with myself. The air in the room is thick with the copper scent of his blood, and I try to get more breath, but it feels like I’m drawing it in through a thick nket. I crash blindly around the room, knocking into furniture and smashing into walls until hands pull at me and wrap metight.
“Hey,” a soothing voice says. “Hey, no, it’s okay. Baby, calm down. You gotta calm down for me. It’s okay.You’re<span>okay.”
It’s a litany offort urging me to follow it back to reality. The pieces start toe together slowly but then all at once. Like waking from a terriblenightmare.
“There you go. You got it. Come backto<span>me.”
I open my tightly clenched eyes and find Gracin staring right back at me. Relief—or something close to it—shes through his green eyes before it’s reced by another expression I know alltoo<span>well.
I shove away from his embrace, but I should know better. He’s got his ws in me. I don’t think he’s ever gonna letme<span>go.
“Take your hands off me,” I growl and have to look around because I’ve never heard my own voice sound so wild anddesperate.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” He takes my jaw in his hand and forces me to look at him. “You’re donerunning.”
“Fuck you,” I yell in his face, spit flying, but I don’t even care. I’m so past caring I feel pleasantly numb. “Fuck you. You ruinedmy<span>life.”
He shoves closer until we’re chest to chest. He’s so close that I can only see his eyes as they bear down on me. “Ruined your life? No, far as I can see, I gave you exactly what youwanted.”
“I didn’twant<span>this.”
I didn’t realize I was shaking my head until he takes my face in his hands to hold mestill.
“I know what you want,” he says and thenattacks.
His mouth is on mine before I have a chance to bar it against him. My emotions are untamable, unfathomable, and he tempts them into a fever with a ck hole of pleasurable nothingness that I’m desperate to letconsume<span>me.
And I so want to beconsumed.
I want to drown in the taste of him until it blots out the world with a tidal wave of need. He is cataclysmic, and I ache to beg for my owndestruction.
“Not here,” he says, and I’m jerked back toreality.
A chill courses over me, and I realize we’re still in the same room with Vic’s dead body. His blood is pooling on the glossy wood I’d scrubbed a thousand times. It’s on my hands and on my scrubs, which I hadn’t had time to change out ofafter<span>work.
He doesn’t give me a chance to think about it, though. He just tugs me around the corner to the hall and pulls me close to him. I go with him because I want to get away from the carnage in the other room. I don’t know if I want tough or cry or scream. Gracin seems unfazed—his only focusis<span>me.
“I’ve been thinking about this since you came all over me. I could smell you for days after. Been driving me crazy,” he says in my ear. I can feel him, thick and long, pressing urgently against my stomach as he rips off my shirt with barely contained violence.His eyes go to my bruises and darken. When his hands sy over them, they’re gentle. “I’m d the bastard’s dead for what he didto<span>you.”
“No,” I tell him, pushing at his hands. “We can’t. Not here. Notlike<span>this.”
He presses me down to the floor, and I’m so out of it, I’m unable to protest other than to hiss out a breath as my backes in contact with thecool<span>wood.
“Yes,” he says against my lips. “Just like this. I want you to remember what it feels like when I’m not there by your side. I want you to remember how strong you were when you stood up to him. How you won’t ever let anyone treat you like shit again, noteven<span>me.”
“Then let me go. You wanted to escape, so what are you stilldoing<span>here?”
He doesn’t answer. His mouth is too busy at my throat, his lips and teeth and tongue working their way up to my ear. A breath whispers around the sensitive skin, and despite myself, my hips surge up against him. The fact that what we’re doing is so horrible, so terribly wrong and immoral only makes my blood heat faster, my bodywanting<span>more.
Is this the result of years of abuse—this dark, dirty yearning—or is itjust<span>him?
He doesn’t give me a second to find my equilibrium. There are no officers here, no cuffs or bars. There is nothing stopping him for taking exactly what he wants. And hewants<span>me.
His fingers twine in my hair and tug my head back for a better angle. “I’m going to taste you everywhere,” he says darkly, and God help me, I wanthim<span>to.
My hands go to his shoulders. “We can’t do this here,” I repeat, but my hips buck when his other hand trails over my breasts and to the waistband of my scrubs. Suddenly, all my clothes feel incredibly insubstantial against his questing fingers. I arch, grinding my head into the wood, searching for somerity.
The pain centers my focus, and I reach down to push his hand away. “Gracin,please.”
His hand slips underneath my waistband and delves into my panties. “Please, what?” he asks, his touch so gentle I can barely feel it mixed with all the other sensations I’m trying to process. “Please, don’t stop? Please, keep going. You’re gonna have to be morespecific.”
He finds me wet and wanting, and we groan in unison. I want to die. I want to scream. I want him tonever<span>stop.
“Please. We shouldn’t dothis<span>here.”
My hands go to his wrists, but he’s too strong and his fingers are too talented. They have me seeing stars withinseconds.
“Here. Right now,”he<span>says.
My head whips back and forth against the wood, strands of my hair get caught and rip out, but I barely feel the pain. In fact, somewhere along my nerve endings, it transforms, merges, and bes pleasure. I want to stop, I want to stop, but I can’t. My body doesn’t know what it should do. My brain doesn’t know what tothink.
“Yes,” he whispers in the dark. “Let<span>me.”
With the barest of pauses, he rips off my sensible tennis shoes and tears my scrubs and in white panties down and off. Then he pushes my legs up and arranges them so I’m spread like a feast before him. The look on his face is savagely beautiful and there’s a sh of white teeth before he covers me with hismouth.
The hands that had been gripping his wrists transfer to his hair. “No,” I whimper. “Gracin, oh God,please.”
“Sounds like you can’t quite make up your mind, little mouse,” he says, and I can feel his lips moving against my clit as hespeaks.
My thoughts fracture as his tongue wages a new assault. I rip at his hair and w at his back, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. Any resistance is met with increased determination, and my body recognizes his touch as pleasurable, despite my brain’s confusion on the matter. Even the difort of the unforgiving wood floor at my back and the mmy stickiness of sweat doesn’t derail my buildingorgasm.
He spreads my thighs wider and wraps his hands around my legs to hold me open for his broad shoulders. I don’t know if I’m struggling for him to stop . . . or for him to keep going. The line between panic and pleasure is blurred with each flick and glide of his tongue. He sucks and nibbles, teases and tastes until I’m grinding against his face and moaningunabashedly.
I’ve never felt dirtier in my entire life. Not when Vic beat me. Not even when I cheated on him withGracin.
But I’ve also never felt more alive, and I don’t know which scaresme<span>more.This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.
The orgasm grows to overwhelming proportions. I struggle away from it, nearly sobbing, but Gracin merely releases one leg so he can maneuver his pants down enough to free his erection. Before I can move, he’s driving into me, and I scream as the orgasm rips through me with a violence as brutal as the man whoinspired<span>it.
He reaches his first orgasm quickly, but there’s nothing beautiful about it. It’s savage, merciless, and ugly. But seeing the riot of pleasure mixed with pain on his face has me begging for more. I hate myself for it.Still semi-hard inside me, he doesn’t stop pumping, even when Ie back to reality and begin to struggle to get free fromunderneath<span>him.
There’s a second when I manage to scrabble free from his weight while he’s still trembling. His cock disengages, and the loss of him inside me makes me whimper. I flip onto my stomach and use my hands to pull my weight along the floor. Moisture leaks from inside me and wets my thighs and the woodunderneath.
I make it until my ass is level with his face and then one armes around my waist and pins me to the flooragain.
“Where areyou<span>goin’?”
“You got what you wanted,” I say between panting breaths and aftershocks. Simply having him near is enough to cause my brain to short circuit. It’s saying leave, leave, leave, and in the same breath, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. Not even my hormones can make up their mind. “Now, letme<span>go.”
“If you think that’s all I want from you, you’re gonna be in for a real shock in a fewseconds.”
“What do you—” His hands sneak up and part the cheeks of my ass, and I’m so shocked I can’t speak. Can’t think. Canonly<span>feel.
Fingers bite into my skin, and then his breath warms ces on my body even Vic had never ventured to vite. I squirm underneath him and p my hands against wood to drag my body away from him, but to no avail. In the next instant, his mouth is on me, tasting me, torturing me. In all the years I’ve been with Vic, in all the things he’s done to me, there’d always been limit to what he’d do. With Gracin, there are no limits, no boundaries, nosecrets.
“No. Don’t,” I whisperdesperately.
“Yes,” he answers, and he kisses one cheek and then the other before cing a final kiss at the base of my spine. “I want all of you, Tessa, and I mean tohave<span>you.”
His name bursts from my lips as he pins my chest to the floor and one of his arms steals around my stomach so his hand can reach my clit. With a grunt, he jerks my hips up and peppers kisses down my seam, skating along the puckered opening as his fingers set about rewiring mybrain.
I whimper as his tongueves me from one hole to the other and then back again. There’s no word to describe it other than dirty. I’ve never been particrly shy about sex—what would be the point? But not only does he conquer the secret part of me with no hesitation to speak of but also he shows no aversion to licking every part of me still covered in his cum. Even as I writhe underneath him, desperate for release, I’m scrabbling against the floor to get away from the sweet vition he’s determined tmit.
“If I let you go, are you gonna run from me?”he<span>asks.
He keeps his fingers strumming on my over-sensitized clit until my hips begin to buck back into his tongue. I press my forehead into the wood grain, hoping the pain will bring me to a sense of rity, but it doesn’t. There is nothing sensible about what’s happening, nothing logical in the way I respondto<span>him.
“No,” I say and hateus<span>both.
“Good<span>girl.”
He presses a kiss to my spine and releases the hold on my back. I have time enough to suck in a breath before I feel the tickle of hair from his thighs on the back of mine and sense the presence of his body looming over me. My clit aches with each heartbeat, and even as I consider running to the back door just a few feet away, my back arches to ept the first deliciousthrust.
A fist twines in my hair, the other mps down my hip. I’m present in the moment only through where our bodies connect as though my consciousness is dependent on his existence. Hands I’d been using to pull myself away now push into the floor to throw my weight back against him, causing him to fuck me deeper than anyoneever<span>has.
The hand in my hair pulls my head back until Ie up to all fours, and he gathers me close enough that his lips brush against my ear. “You think you don’t want this?” he asks, and I know he doesn’t mean what he’s doing to me, because I can’t deny that I do. Not when I’m screaming for him to do it harder, faster. “You shouldn’t.” His teeth bite into my shoulder. “You shouldn’t want me. I am not a nice man. I am not a good man. I do bad things for bad people.” He licks the bite, and his mouth skims up my throat. “I want to do bad thingsto<span>you.”
Oh, God help me, I want him to do those bad things. In fact, I’d beg him to do them. But the hand in my hair tilts me violently back, so far that breathing is a struggle, making speaking impossible. As I’m focusing on drawing in air, I don’t pay attention to his other hand until it bumps against the tight entrance he’d so thoroughly aroused. I make keening noises in the back of my throat as his thumb breeches the taut ring just a little, but it’s enough to make my body seize in the first throes ofrelease.
“Ease uparound<span>me.”
I think I say I can’t, but ites out garbled as his thrusts slow, edging me away from the impending orgasm. I reach a hand back for his hip, but there’s no moving him. Frustrated tears spill frommy<span>eyes.
“Open up for me, Tessa, and I’ll give you what you need,” he says, and his words are followed by a long, slow thrust that I feeleverywhere.
My muscles loosen, and I go limp in his arms. I am his to control, but he isn’t just taking it. He’s asking for it, and I submit to itfreely.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says, and I cry out as his thumb breeches mefully.
His cock drives into me harder, and he releases my hair to cup my throat. I gasp for breath, and his fingers caress my lips. I bite them without thought, without care. Needing to taste him, to have a part of him like he has all of me, I suck one into my mouth. He roars behind me, and I arch back to take him more fully. There isn’t a ce on my body left undiscovered, no part he hasn’t conquered, and yet, I want to find moreto<span>give.
It isn’t his cock or his hands or even the violence that takes me over the edge this time. It’s a kiss. He pulls his hand away, and I release his finger from my mouth with an audible pop. With his palm cupping my jaw, he turns me to ept his mouth, and I do, greedily. There shouldn’t be anything right about what I’m letting him do to me, but there isn’t a single brush of lips or thrust that feels wrong. It’s more right than anything I’veever<span>done.
As soon as I have that thought, I whimper against his mouth and the orgasm overtakes me, washing away all doubts, all fears, and allmon sense. Something in him breaks as I constrict around him, and the tension in his muscles drains away. In one long, slow drag, he removes his thumb, causing my orgasm to double over on itself. He hisses in response and fills me with his own pleasure as he follows me overthe<span>edge.
Sometimeter, Ie to realize we’re still on the floor. My extremities don’t respond when I tell them to move, but it’s okay. The heavy weight of Gracin on top of me is an anchor securing me to earth. Reality intrudes, along with the cold as he shifts to the side, his arms and legs still entangledwith<span>mine.
“We have to get out of here,” he says eventually. My brain still isn’t quite working, but when he adds, “The police will get here soon, and we don’t want to be here when they do,” it jump-starts.
“We have to go,” he says and stands to pull his pants up andbuckle<span>them.
I look around for my scrubs and underwear, but I can’t see them in the near absolute darkness of the hallway. The darkness is probably a good thing. As the cold steals over my rapidly cooling frame, the memory of Vic’s dead body is enough to clear my thoughts of what just transpired between us. I tuck it away for . . .ter. Way, wayter when I can’t still feel the aching emptinessinside<span>me.
Gracin returns with my scrubs in hand, and I dress, my cheeks alternately burning and nching as I vacite between embarrassed andhorrified.
“Get dressed. I’ll go get a car.” He kisses me and leaves me with the taste of myself lingering onmy<span>lips.
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