Page 88 of Thy Kingdom Come
“Do it,” I challenge, swallowing deeply.
A growl gets caught in his throat as he brutalizes me in the most delicious of ways. “Naw, that’ll be too easy. And where’s the fun in that?”
His threat isn’t empty. Now that I’ve unintentionally let a small part of me slip, he won’t stop until he gathers all the pieces of the puzzle. But I’m hoping what I overheard will help cushion the blow.
After the Kellys’ party, I went to seethemand told them the Kellys had been tipped off. They were fuming, but they had a plan—a plan which I eavesdropped on.
They said someone named Mike was going to be their fall guy. I don’t know what he’s going to take the fall for, but it seemed to take the heat off Punky. Mike is the key to their devious plans, which means Punky is safe—for now.
Whoever Mike is, I feel sorry for him because they made clear he won’t be getting out of this alive. I wonder what he did to be involved with them. But if his sacrifice saves Punky, then it’s each man for himself.
He tightens his hold around my neck as he fucks me unapologetically. “I will not stop until I find out who ye are.”
As I gasp for air, the knot of pleasure begins to build once again.
This isn’t lovemaking; this is raw, carnal, depraved sex, and I’ve never felt safer or more desired in my entire life.
Punky knows I can ruin him, but he continues to devour my body because we can’t stop this. We’re powerless. We are each other’s enemy, and in no way do we trust one another, but that doesn’t seem to matter because good sense is thrown to the wind and given way to…this.
As I’m on the cusp of blacking out, Punky releases his grip and holds my waist with both hands, sinking into me raucously. I can’t take in air fast enough, and the urgency has me whimpering because I think I’m going to come—again.
Punky reaches around my hip and commences playing with my clit. I shudder, as it’s all too much. My breasts are swinging, my nipples grazing the sheets with Punky’s brutal strokes. He’s everywhere, and I know I’ll never get enough.
I can’t handle his carnality any longer, so I collapse, but Punky won’t allow the reprieve. He props himself up on one knee while placing his other foot on the floor. He then grips my arm and secures it behind me as he fucks me hard.
I’m half slouched onto the bed, turned onto my side as Punky anchors onto my wrist and hip, controlling and dominating me so I have no other choice but to bend to his demands. I’m floppy, my body Jell-O, but Punky won’t stop.
“Had enough?”
“No,” I stubbornly cry with my cheek pressed into the mattress.
“I fuck ye like I should hate ye,” he breathlessly states, moaning when I rock back on his shaft.
“You should hate me because this means nothing to me,” I arrogantly lie. “You’re a good lay. That’s all.”
“Is that right?” He chuckles, not believing my dishonesty. “This has come as a huge relief, ya can imagine, ’cause I wouldn’t want ya gettin’ attached.”
“That won’t happen.”
“Glad we’re on the same page,” he says, the slapping of our flesh so erotic, I bite my cheek to stop my pleasured moans. “But I know that yer lyin’. Ye may want to hate me, but yer body is tellin’ me otherwise. This warm, wild body which fits around my cock perfectly.”
I can’t handle it.
Punky’s actions and words send me over the edge, and I chase my release, unable to hold back my screams because I’m so fucking close. He’s won. He knows he can hurt me, which means I’m in so much trouble. We both are.
“Yer a parful wee liar, Babydoll. I own ye. Whether ye want me to or not. Say it,” he orders, then suddenly stops as I desperately rock back, begging he put me out of my misery.
“That’ll never happen,” I pant, reaching around, pleading he continues to move. But he does the complete opposite. He pulls out.
I sag forward, crying out in frustration. “No!”
“Say it,” he commands calmly while my winded breaths betray me.
Stubbornly, I begin rubbing over myself because if he won’t bring me to climax, I’ll do it by my own hand. But he slaps my hand away and flips me onto my back. I fruitlessly fight him, but he pins me with his weight as he draws my arms above my head.
“I’ll not ask ya again,” he cautions hoarsely.
His erection presses between us. I whimper when he rubs it against my needy center. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of giving in, but eventually, I concede because there is no point in fighting the inevitable.