Page 31 of Break Me Beautifully
The gun. Thememory hits me like a bolt of ice. But there's no weapon this time for me to see or feel. There's only the pulsing need for release reaching a crest inside my virgin body. Redness flickers on the edge of my vision. I'm nearly there, his tongue flicking my clit on and on and on.
I grind my pelvis onto the bed. I can't wait any longer. Words creep up my throat, slipping over my tongue and leaving my fibers buzzing. “Fuck me.”
Marshall breaks away. I hear something tear, glimpse the flash of foil as the condom wrapper is tossed to the floor. The thick, warm head of his cock glides between my thighs. “Tell me you want it.”
“YouknowI want it!” I whine.
He waits a heartbeat. Then another. “You have to be sure, sweet girl. After this, there's no regrets. No taking it back. Do you want your first to be with a monster like me? Everything about me is wrong for you. I'm fucked up more than you can understand. I've seen things ... done things ..."
Why is he warning me like I might change my mind? Why give me a shot at walking away? I wonder, again, about what my sister told me about Marshall Klintock. What my mother said. What I myself learned firsthand.
He could be a killer. He could be the devil, or close enough.
I don't know.
I'm only sure of who he is right now.
"I'm more than a pretty toy. I mean it when I say I'm ready. Be my first," I whisper. "Do it, Marshall. I want this. I'm not scared you'll break me."
"You should be," he says somberly. Marshall drives into me, spreading my inner walls in a rapid advance. The ridge of his dick scrapes as it goes. Rumbles of pleasure slip in my veins, my cells, my tensing pussy. He clamps onto my middle to keep me in place on the bed. He wants to control the pace, but I'm ramming backwards, demanding more of his cock.
“Slow down,” he growls, fingers in my hair.
I don't. I screw him harder, thrilling from the way my scalp bursts with mild pain, creating colors behind my eyes that remind me of swirling paint. This is sex. Sex is art. I'm art.We'reart.
“Take it easy, Leona!”
“No!" I crow, feeling my orgasm rising up. “I want to come, I have to come, I'm nearly there!”
Marshall says no more. Gripping my hair, he yanks me onto all fours. My spine bends, a beautiful arch, like I'm some crafted sculpture. I yelp when my climax takes me. Disoriented, I'm lost in the vibrancy of our filthy encounter. I'm not a virgin anymore. I gave up a piece of myself that I'll never get back, and I gave it to a man who could be my doom. I hate that I don't care. For a moment I'm just bliss, my body hot, swollen, careening with endless pleasure.
He lets out a gritty moan as his cock thickens, convulsing, stretching me out. He continues pumping as he comes, the condom keeping his seed blocked from me, but the heat is still there.
Suddenly he's gone. It's so abrupt I gasp, rolling onto my elbow to see what happened. "Marshall?"
He yanks his pants up, tucking himself away. His firm dick bulges through his dress pants. Showing me his back, he hurries to the attached bathroom. The toilet flushes; the condom. Water runs as he washes his hands. It's the only sound.
"Marshall?" I say again, nervous. "What's wrong?"
When he doesn't answer I tuck my knees to my chest, pulling my dress into place, painfully aware of my pulsing lower lips gone bare from my tossed-aside panties. I'm beyond lost by his behavior. He's gone from needing to touch me to running away.
Marshall exits the bathroom, still not meeting my eyes. "I'm fine."
"You're not acting fine."
Ruffling his hair, he grabs his shirt, dressing himself with careful precision. “Don't worry. I'm sorry about your makeup and hair.”
Blinking, I touch my lips, then glance at the mirror. My chin is stained red from my lipstick, my hair a tangle. I look like I just had sex. Which, I did. A tiny laugh explodes out of me. "Who cares?" I ask, looking back at him.
"The guests at the Gala might."
My smile slips. "We're still going?"
"Yes. of course we are."
He adjusts his cuffs, hiding his tattoos away. But it's more than that. Marshall has slipped his suit back on, disguising himself as a man who didn't just whisper darkly in my ear, or hold me close in a way no one ever has.
Hugging myself harder, I offer him a smile that feels plastic. "Right. Of course. Let me clean up and we can head out. Okay?"
