Page 57 of The Game
His praise would ignite me, but I am a dizzy, panting mess, wondering how the hell he was able to get me off by barely moving. But his cock is still hard, and I am extremely sensitive, and he begins to pull out and pump back in, building a pace that remains deep and forceful, his thrusts quick bursts against my full womb.
The knife is also no longer forgotten, and before I realize it, he’s toying with the edge against my nipple again before he traces a pink line up to the flat expanse of my chest. A wicked smirk forms on his face, and his eyes ignite the darkness as he positions the tip at the top of my sternum, pressing in enough that there is a prick of pain as I whine and pull away. Completely absorbed, he ignores me, driving the knife into my skin just enough that a trail of blood wells up. For a fleeting moment, my heart races in true, raw fear, for his eyes are unhinged, and I know what he is capable of. He repeats his path a few times, deepening the sting and the cut itself as my chest rises and falls. When there is a small river of blood flowing between my breasts, he snaps his knife closed and tucks it away. Awash with relief, I sag against him.
“Put your legs around me when I fuck you,” he growls, not looking at me, simply focused on the blood. I obey, and he releases me, pinning me to the wall with his body as he brings his hands up, smearing my blood across my ribs and up over my breasts. The sight is so unusual but so erotic that his bursting thrusts are coaxing out another orgasm. Rolling my nipples between his fingers, I groan and shudder, and his hands leave their bloody playground to grip my ass and drive into me, the slapping of our wet skin echoing in the alley.
His eyes find mind, and a rueful grin paints his features.
“Look how fucking beautiful you are when you’re broken, Alice.”
My eyes drop to my breasts, the red line already congealing, not deep enough to scar, his bloody handprints like sigils on my bare skin. Then there’s my ripped bodice, flapping immodestly with his thrusts, my skirts bearing dirt and splotches of blood but covering the punishment he’s putting my cunt through. And then there’s my striped stockings, ripped and smudged, my pale blue thong dangling around my left ankle. I am a fucking mess, but I see myself in his eyes, see the hunger and need to dominate.
Laying my skull back on the cool bricks, I roll my hips to meet his on a silent command. His eyes harden, thumb brushing up my thigh to settle over my clit.
“I’m going to hurt you, Alice,” he says softly, but I don’t care; I need it more than ever now. I need to know that in my brokenness I am still whole, still able to find peace and pleasure.
“Do it, please. I want you to hurt me,” I say. He knows it’s true, and I see it flicker in his gaze before it hardens.
Pulling out, he throws me to the ground, not too hard, but by no means gentle. I catch myself on my palms, scraping them against debris with a cry, but he’s on me too fast, palm pressing the side of my face into the asphalt as his other hand flips up my skirts. My knees dig into the biting pebbles, but he slams into me from behind, holding me in place by my head and hip as pain and pleasure flare through me.
“Oh…oh my God…” I cry, unsure if it hurts too much or feels too fucking good since I am still sensitive. His hand curls around my hip, fingers finding my clit and circling it in quick strokes that match his thrusts, and it begins building again. “Oh shit…fu…fuck,” I cry.
My pussy is so wet it drips down my thighs and to my clit. I cannot breathe, and I know he feels the beginning tendrils of my orgasm when he paces his thrusts further apart, drawing out my euphoria as long as he can.
“Fuck yes,” he hisses. “Squirt all over my cock again, baby.”
My body convulses as I come, my palms slapping the asphalt as he ruts into me, forcing his cock past the resistance caused by my clenching. “Oh my God, oh my God,” I cry.
“Good girl,” he praises. “You’re taking me so well. I’m going to fill you up, then watch you play in my cum.”
My cunt ripples at his words, and his cock twitches inside me before the rush of warmth hits me again. He pants, collapsing across my back but rolling so I am on top of him.
“Keep all my cum in you, baby,” he demands, and I obey as he pulls out, pressing my fingers over my pussy. Maneuvering himself so that I am laying on his jacket with him between my legs, his eyes feast on the sight before him, and a filthy shudder runs through me.
“Put your fingers in your pussy, Alice.” Whimpering, I know to obey, slipping my two middle fingers in as his cum oozes out around them. I am sore, sensitive, but he will make me come as many times as he wants tonight, and I love it. “Faster and harder, baby, or do you need me to show you how?”
Slipping immediately into that headspace from sheer exhaustion and satisfaction, I play my role, changing the tenor.
“Can you show me how?” I ask sweetly, feigning innocence. His biting smirk is quick to form, and he rises up on his knees, placing his two middle fingers over mine as I draw them out. Putting pressure down, he forces our fingers into my pussy, and the stretch makes my jaw drop.
“Nice and slow and deep, baby, feel all my cum?” he asks, swirling his fingers around and brushing up against every pleasurable nerve ending I have.
“Yes,” I whimper.
“Let me show you something,” he says softly but menacingly. Withdrawing our fingers, he smooths his over the head of his still-erect cock. Grabbing my wrist with his free hand, he forces my palm over my lower stomach, right above my pubic area. At the same time, he pushes his cock back into me as I cry out softly. “Shh, baby…feel me?”
He sinks himself even deeper and presses my hand down harder, and I fuckingfeelhim, a slight bulge in the very pit of my stomach, the very spot that has been aching for attention for so long. My jaw drops, my eyes nearly cross, and when his thumb circles my clit, I am somehow almost a goner again.
“I need to fuck you hard again, Alice. When we get home you can have me any way you want. I want you to cry,” he says. My round eyes fly to his, but I see the need there, and I want to give just as much to him as he has for me.
“Yes, okay,” I say. Taking a deep breath, he releases me, putting my legs on his shoulders as he grips my hips and prepares himself.
“Forgive me,” he whispers to the night. By the time he finishes, Iamcrying, but it’s not because he’s hurt me, or scared me; I needed what we did, more than he will ever know.
No. I am crying because it’s midnight, and I promised myself I could.
CHAPTER 28
Alice