The Way She Burns by Jessa Kane

3

Chloe

Pain claws at my insides. A foreign kind of pain.

It’s more like an invasion of pressure. Everywhere. It plagues my loins, my tummy, the walls of my sex. There’s a definite stretching there, my flesh hurrying to accommodate Sebastian’s larger than normal shaft. And of course I know he’s well above average. I work in a factory with women twice my age and all they talk about is men and sex. They laugh and tell me to cover my ears, no idea that the act of intercourse, the wild tangle of two people mating, has always made my panties damp in my factory suit. Their stories replay in my head at night before I fall asleep, wedged in between prayers for forgiveness.

I can’t help it.

I can’t contain my wicked nature at all times. It’s taxing.

For a few moments, I accept this as my punishment. The pain. The fact that I’ve just had the barrier of my virginity torn by a man with a far above average penis size—it must be nine or ten inches! But then…oh then, the pain begins to recede and another issue presents itself.

Now it’s feeling…good.

Something about him calling himself my Daddy makes it easier to be in pain right now…because instinctively, I know he’s going to make it all better. That’s what Daddies do. These thoughts are twisted and they stray from the proper path of a young lady, but they invade my mind nonetheless. They are relentless.

Everything about this moment is filthy and wrong and clandestine. This man is over a decade older than me. He’s making me pay for his generosity with my body. The rough usage of it. And that should anger and disgust me. But those threads of hedonism inside of me are beginning to glow golden, instead, and I find my ankles hooking at the small of his back, a low, purring whimper coming from my throat.

Oh. He’s so deep.

I’m a staked claim, my bottom flattened against the cool side of the island, his testicles pulsing, pulsing against the lips of my sex, his long shaft swollen and huge inside of me. Our breaths are shallow, staccato notes, followed by his growled accusation. “Virgin.”

“I tried to tell you,” I whisper.

And that’s true. I did. But I didn’t try very hard.

I have to be honest with myself and admit…I didn’t want him to stop.

I wanted this experience. With him. This beautiful mysterious man who is obviously housing a lifetime worth of pain and anger. I wanted to feel all of his wrath inside of my own body. Wanted to unburden him for a time. More scandalously, I needed to know what this is like. I’ve fantasized about sex for years, petting myself beneath my blankets in the darkness, trying to figure out a way to dull the ache. I never succeed. Will he? Will he help me? What if he can cure me and I won’t spend my days trying to subdue the rebellious hellion living inside of me?

“Whose child is that?” Sebastian chokes out.

“Curtis is my little brother.”

His curse is vile. He’s angry. So angry. But when he slides his hands around to grip the bare cheeks of my backside, I know he doesn’t want to stop. Even if he hasn’t moved since that first initial invasion, he’s stiff as a pike inside of me. He’s sweating. Muscles flexed. Aroused.

I aroused him.

Made that big part of him hard.

And that shameful part of me, the part I’ve spent years trying to keep in check, wants to revel in that. Wants to see what else I’m capable of doing. Wants to play.

“Why did you stop, Daddy?” I whisper in his ear.

I feel his groan in every single one of my bones, my toes curling in excitement. “I stopped because you’re tighter than fuck and I’m going to blow after one pump.” His powerful chest heaves against me, so masculine with its swells of muscle. I can’t help leaning down to trace the starkly flexed sinew of his shoulder with my tongue—and it makes him thrust. Hard. Ramming me back into the island. “No. No. I’ll come.”

It takes me a moment to respond, because that rough movement of his hips has me seeing stars, the muscles in my belly contracting excitedly, the breath suspended in my lungs. “Isn’t that the goal?” I gasp, moving my open mouth to his ear, brushing the lobe with my bottom lip. “Just let me get a quick one, you said. To take the pain away.”

“What about your pain? Don’t you think I would have done this differently if I’d known you were fucking innocent?” His head falls into the crook of my neck, his hips rolling in a slow grind. “Ahhhh Christ. So innocent between these legs.”

“But not everywhere else,” I whisper, letting my secrets slip in the intimacy of the moment. What do I have to lose? “On the inside, I’m bad. I have bad thoughts.”

“No.” He lifts his head, bringing our foreheads together. “No, I know what bad looks like. I see it every time I look in the mirror. You’re nothing but sweet.” His exhale is shaky, his eyelids drooping to half-mast. “Sweet and tiny. And goddammit, I can’t hold back anymore.”

I writhe on his impalement, gasping at the sensations that course through me, converging on that little bundle of nerves at the apex of my sex, making it tingle and swell. “No one said you had to hold back.” Our mouths are right on top of each other now, gasping. Panting. “Don’t hold back, Daddy.”

He growls us into a kiss.

A kiss. I’m being kissed.

And rutted. Two firsts at the same time.

Sebastian fills my mouth with his tongue, making a stuttered sound in his throat, delving deeper. Sweeping the hollow of my mouth thoroughly. It’s dizzying. The new kind of friction. The wet slide and the rasp of his night beard on my soft skin. We’re man and girl and I’m working for his kindness, bartering my virginity for it. Making this forbidden. Making it a little wrong for him to pump into me with such savagery while choking out grunts. A smacking sound fills the kitchen, a combination of his incredible hardness and my feminine wetness. And he enters me harder, still, dropping his chin down on the top of my head and slamming my bottom repeatedly against the island, upsetting my coffee mug and a jar of pens.

This. It’s everything I’ve been searching for.

When I sneak out and run wild in the meadows trying to ease the restlessness of my body, this is what it has been seeking. A good hard pound from this man. All those times my mother implored me to read the Bible in an attempt to distract me from the incessant yearning below my belly button, this is what I needed instead. Desperately. It’s not until that moment that I realize my wild streak took hold the same afternoon Sebastian saved me from falling over the cliff. Rescuing me. Making him my guardian angel. My protector.

“Daddy,” I whine, working my hips feverishly, my hands fisted in the back of his shirt, his back muscles raking against my wrists. The slide of his shaft over that sensitive nub is making me feel funny. Shaky. Out of control. And I hurl myself toward the horizon, wanting to know what it looks like. Wanting the complete picture. “Please, please, please,” I chant, digging my heels into his tightly muscled, pistoning buttocks. “Sebastian.”

“That sweet pussy of yours is starting to juice me. Tight and tighter, tight and tighter,” he pants into my ear, rifling himself in and out of me faster, harder. “My God, you can’t be real. I’m going to blow. Come on that dick now, girl. Fucking bathe me in it. From tip to ball sack. Do it. Need it everywhere. All over me.”

Permission.

No, not permission. An order. From my Daddy.

Yes.

I lose all power in my neck and sob brokenly, my loins twisting savagely, tummy seizing under the onslaught of pleasure. It’s enormous. Like being hit by a meteor from the heavens. I wrap my legs tighter and bear down, rubbing that sweet button against the base of his erection, riding it with hard tweaks of my hips, gathering as much of the intense pleasure as I can—and all the while he groans in my ear, urging my movements, lapping at my neck with his tongue.

“Jesus Christ, you tight little dream fuck,” he says through his teeth, wrapping a hand around my throat and speaking directly against my mouth. “Rubbing on it like you were born to take big loads from a big man, huh, girl? Me. Only me. Here comes your first of many.” He slams high and deep, his huge body starting to shake, his member pulsing between my thighs. Geysering moisture, so thick and sticky, I gasp and he plows into me again, again, his movements slow and thorough, as if he’s using my sex to wring out every drop of his seed. “Goddamn!”

His mouth is open on my neck and he starts to rut me, almost violently, more and more hot liquid flooding me. And there is definite pleasure coursing through me at the proof that I’ve driven him to completion. That this man’s strict composure has been snapped. But I can also hear his words reverberating over and over in my mind.

Rubbing on it like you were born to take big loads from a big man, huh, girl?

Born wicked. Rebellious. Destructive.

I’ve believed this about myself for such a long time. I’ve witnessed the outcome of my intemperance. A life was lost because of this need in me to stray from the proper path. The good, wholesome path my mother wanted for me. Now I know that even Sebastian can sense how deep my unnaturally powerful lust runs, too. Especially where he is concerned, this compelling man who started the yearning within me in the first place.

I know in that moment that I cannot stay here.

I cannot be around this man who rouses a deeper, darker energy inside of me. An energy that will make it too hard to be a good person. To set a good example for Curtis. And most importantly, to prevent another tragedy from happening because of me.

Sebastian finishes thrusting and slumps against me, burying his fingers in my hair and inhaling the scent there, along with my neck. “Chloe,” he says hoarsely, tipping my face back to meet his worried eyes. “Tell me I didn’t hurt you. I…was rough. Very rough. With a virgin. Christ, the way I…” Despite his self-recriminations, lust kindles in his eyes. “The way I took you was inexcusable. Even if you weren’t a virgin, you’re so young—”

“Don’t be sorry,” I say, leaning up to kiss his chin. “There’s supposed to be pain the first time. Everyone says so.” There’s a press of heat at the backs of my eyelids. I enjoyed it so much. Much more than I should have. I think I saw outer space. That’s what I want to say to him, but why tell him what he already knows? Didn’t he say I was born for intercourse? Yes, he did. A truth I always feared to be true. Swallowing, I drop my legs from his hips and straighten my dress. “I have to leave here as soon as possible.”

“Excuse me?” Abruptly, he stops breathing. And it’s very noticeable, because only seconds before, he was panting as if he’d just swam across the Atlantic. “Whatwas that?”

His sharp tone halts my movements. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.” That wasn’t…a flash of hurt in his cobalt eyes, was it? Regret? No, it’s just irritation. “I’ll sleep in with Curtis tonight and we’ll go in the morning.”

Sebastian stands stock still as I move around him, jogging in the direction of the room beneath the stairs. Before I can duck out of sight, however, I’m reminded of something I’ve always wanted to do. Five years ago, when Sebastian saved me from falling off the side of the cliff on his property, I was so shaken that I’m not sure I thanked him properly. I’m pretty sure I blubbered and sniffled into his chest until my legs were wobbly enough to carry me again, then I ran for the safety of my mother. I’m going to remedy my lack of manners now or I will always regret it.

Garnering the last of my bravery for the evening, I wheel around and call out his name. “Sebastian?”

He looks shell shocked. “Yes.”

“I’m not sure…I don’t think I ever said thank you for what you did that day. Catching my hand before I could go over the side of the cliff. You saved my life.” I lay a hand on the doorframe leading to the room below the stairs. “Thank you.”

I wait a few beats for him to say anything, but he only continues to stare at me like he’s seen a ghost. There’s no denying this…consuming urge to return to his arms. To once again soothe whatever storm is raging behind his beautiful eyes. It costs all of my effort to carry myself into the room with my brother and close the door. But there’s no closing the door between me and the newer, hotter burn inside of me. The burn which has now become a rampant pyre, thanks to Sebastian Spears. And so once again, I have to do the hard thing. The right thing. I have to bury my nature to get back on the right path.