“No.” I shoved against him.
“Yes.” He thrust violently into my heat, making it hurt despite how wet he’d made me. “Take my cock like a good girl. You’ve been denying me long enough. If you can hurt me, then I can hurt you. We'll share the fucking pain.”
“What happened to you just wanting to love me?”
“I still do. And I will. But sometimes pain is necessary.”
“I hate you,” I snarled at him, raking my nails down his back as the lie tumbled off my lips. “I fucking hate you!”
“Good. It makes this easier,” he breathed out, continuing his onslaught as I tried to shred his back to ribbons. He groaned, moving faster, breathless as he fucked me into beautiful oblivion.
As much as I tried to stave off my impending orgasm, it surged through my body, making me cry out his name on repeat as my body strangled his thick cock.
“D-don’t come in me. Please. I haven’t taken my pill,” I managed to stutter out as he pistoned in and out of me like he was drilling for fucking oil.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he snipped, pressing me more firmly into the mattress.
I winced, heat sweeping through me again as another release built within me. Dominic De Santis could fuck like a god, and I’d be a lying bitch if I said I didn’t enjoy the way he made me feel.
“Fuck,” he groaned, moving faster and harder, his thrusts so violent they shook the bed.
The sound of slapping skin and his deep groan filled the room as he took out his anger on my pussy.
“Dominic. Stop. You’re hurting me. Stop.” I writhed against him as he continued. “Dominic.” I cried out as he brought pain with the pleasure.
That sweet heat of release swept through my body again as I came hard.
Did I want him to stop?
Yes.
No.
Yes.
Never.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. YES. So good. He was so damn good.
“Don’t. Don’t come inside me,” I choked out, digging into his skin with my nails. “Please.”
He let out a low groan, his cock thickening inside me before his release jetted out, filling me.
His body trembled as he hovered over me, the blood from his chest painting my breasts red.
“I’m sorry, Bianca,” he said softly, almost dazed, the monster he’d been now receding and giving way to his humanity. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
He pulled out of me and rolled to sit on the edge of the bed where his body quivered for a moment as he cradled his head in his hands.
“I lose it sometimes,” he whispered in a choked voice. “I’m a fucking monster. It doesn’t matter what I do, I’ll always be this monster. I-I tried to stop myself. I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”
He rose to his feet and went to the bathroom. The sound of running water was the only noise as I lay in the puddle we’d made. I wasn’t angry. I was sad. Heartbroken. I’d hated what we'd done but had loved it too. It scared me to have that thrill course through me. On the other hand, he hadn’t stopped when I'd asked. I wasn’t sure if I should be terrified of what he might really be capable of or pissed at myself for enjoying the excitement he'd made me feel or worried about the implications of him filling me while I was off my pill.
He came back into the room and cleaned me, the warm washcloth soothing the ache he’d left between my legs.
“I made you bleed,” he said softly. “Fuck. I hurt you.”
I stared up at the ceiling as he gently wiped the mess from me. With a second cloth, he washed his blood from my breasts before he lifted me into his arms and cradled me against him.
“I’ll fix this,” he said, kissing the top of my head fiercely. “Just promise not to hate me for my sins.”
I said nothing because I couldn’t promise a damn thing. Not when I secretly hated myself for mine.