40 | stalker

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"please," you begged

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"please," you begged. the word should have been a plea for him to stop instead, it was a desperate gasp for more as this man - your stalker - fucked you so hard you were sure you'd be bedridden for days.

his hands were everywhere; holding your hips down to the mattress, telling you fuck, take it so good for me, sweetheart. knew you would. thought - fuck - thought about it for weeks. they were on your tits, rolling your nipples between long, pale fingers, promising i'll come on these too, sweetheart. show you who you belong to. when 'm done with you, you'll be ruined for any other man. they were around your throat, avowing I'll kill anyone who touches you, understand? every breath you take is mine, see? with a pointed squeeze hard enough to bruise, and they were on your clit, provoking, give me another one, sweetheart. show me how much you hate me as i make your pretty little cunt sob for my cock. You are so pretty underneath me. You deserve my cook? Yes, you do. I love the way your cunt kiss my cock.

you'd lost count of how many times he'd made you come now. you felt used up and messed, yet absolutely wired with unspent energy; a wind-up toy on its last legs and desperate to be spun out.

the only light in the room came from the open terrace doors, the moonlight washing onto his alabaster skin, none reflecting in his dark, greedy eyes. shadows crawled on his skin as he grabbed at your waist and maneuvered you around again, his own personal fuck toy, but he'd lifted you off his cock and was settling against your headboard, hands behind his head, staring at you voraciously. "ride me, sweetheart."

the pet name made you helpless and he seemed to know it - he knew just about everything else about you, so why not this too?

you'd been so close to another orgasm when he shifted positions but now that he was doing this, forcing you to show him much you wanted him without his hands there as a scapegoat for you to blame for the way you cried for his touch, his cock, your chest went cold. your stomach was a pit of burning coals and you were nothing short of a mess between your thighs but still, you merely sat against his ribbed abdomen motionlessly.

"did i fuck you brain dead, sweetheart? hmm?" he reached up to stroke your cheek, touch feather-light and sending electric jolts through your body. the hand fell, suddenly, to your throat and he squeezed. hard. harder than he ever had before. adrenaline surged and your hands scrabbled against his big one to no avail. he didn't let up an inch. "that wasn't a rhetorical question." your cheeks grew hot and black encroached on your vision, little spots dancing in your line of sight.

"n-no," you choked out.

he smiled indulgently, but there was no hint of it in his eyes. "then i suggest you do as you're told." he relaxed. his grip and you gulped down oxygen, but he left his hand there, a reminder that made your pulse flutter against your skin. with his hand resting there, he could feel it. "sit on my cock and make yourself come."

this time, you did as you were told and seated yourself slowly, oh so slowly, on his cock. by the time he was fully sheathed in you, you were panting, trying to find.

this time, you did as you were told and seated yourself slowly, oh so slowly, on his cock. by the time he was fully sheathed in you, you were panting, trying to find some hidden space that might accommodate him better, might make you feel less like you were splitting apart at the seams, there was a sadistic sort of glint to his eyes, a certain tilt to his mouth and he thrust up into you from below just to hear the whimper that tumbled from your parted lips. "move," he advised.

you could only shake your head, trying to catch your breath. "can't," you finally managed.

he pouted, mocking you. "don't you want to show me who that pretty pussy belongs to, sweetheart?" he gave another shallow, halfhearted thrust. "i could tell you but i want to hear it from your pretty mouth."

you began moving your hips, exploratory, in small motions. circling, not yet fucking him. your head fell back on your neck when he grew impatient with your motions and, hands on your hips, began doing the work for you. "you," you moaned, tits bouncing.

"mmm, that's not my name, sweetheart."

you fought for purchase anywhere, something to hold on to as he disrupted your entire nervous system with his cock - you settled on his hands, his wrists, holding them tight and digging your nails in as he lifted you up and down. "I don't know your name," you panted.

"Jeongguk," he supplied and you almost laughed. what an ordinary name. what an absolutely plain name. "now let me hear you scream it as i make you come, sweetheart."

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