Vengeful Soul by Emma Creed
I sense him there but keep my eyes tightly closed. Tension is coming off him in torrents. His anger radiating the whole room. Yet he doesn’t scare me. I know Brax won’t hurt me, he knows it too, it’s what makes him so irritable around me.
I can hear him breathing, heavy breaths that seem to be taking up all his energy. It stirs excitement in my tummy and summons a desperate ache between my legs.
“Brax.” I open my eyes, pretending to be surprised to see him, but he doesn’t answer me. Just keeps his stare drilled into me, his jaw clenched tight and his nostrils flaring like he’s about to go into battle.
He aches for me, the same way I ache for him. And despite knowing that I’m wrong to even consider letting it happen again, I still pull back the sheets and go to him.
“You okay?” My fingers slide over his bristly jaw, and he flinches back like my touch scolds him.
He snatches my wrist in his hand, and I expect him to push me away, but instead, he holds me still.
“You’re wearing my shirt.” Words come out but his lips barely move, and all I can do is nod back at him.
“I didn’t think you’d mind,” I manage to whisper. The moonlight coming through the cabin window makes his shadow on the wall tower over mine.
“You don’t belong in my shirt, Gracie,” his voice is gravelly and full of spite. “You don’t belong in my bed.”
“I know that too,” I agree, but that doesn’t make me want him any less. My teeth scrape over my bottom lip when I look at his and remember how they touched mine last night. Those lips are my favorite part of him and reaching up on my toes, I suck in a breath and take a risk, pressing my mouth over his.
I prepare myself for his rejection. What I don’t prepare for is his arm, wrapping around my waist and lifting me onto his body. Or for my delicate kiss to be completely corrupted with a deep possessive hunger that devours as his hands crush my ass cheeks, forcing me tight against his body.
“You want me, Gracie?” he asks, sounding almost needy against my lips, his hot breath tasting like whiskey.
“Yes,” I whisper back at him because right here, in this very moment, he’s all I want.
“Even the bad?” he checks, like there's a hidden clause in his proposal.
“Yes,” I respond again, Jesus, right now I think I’d even resort to begging if that’s what it took to feel him inside me again. Things have been so tense between us.
“Even knowing that everything has to go back to how it was before?” he turns his body so my back presses against the door. His rough hand reaching up to my mouth and his thumb sweeping over my bottom lip.
“Because everything has to go back to normal,” I assure him, knowing we could never last. Brax is too plagued, and I’m far too stubborn for us to work.
“Do you know how much I want to make you suffer? How your taunts and torment drive me fucking insane?” he asks, his free hand loosening his buckle and pushing his jeans off his hips. I don’t answer his question, instead, I continue kissing his lips, my hands holding on to the leather cut he’s wearing.
His hands slide the T-shirt I’m wearing up my thighs, and his finger hooks inside my panties, pulling them to one side so he can gain access. I feel his tip, hard and heavy as it slides between my pussy lips, making the ache inside me grow hollower.
“Beg me for it, Gracie,” he whispers in my ear. “Ask me to fuck you. Ask me to fuck you like one of the whores I turned away to come home to you.” Jealousy suddenly douses me like a bucket of cold water.
“I won’t beg,” I tell him, but it feels like a lie. Despite not wanting to, I know that with him, I will eventually.
“We’ll see,” he takes a firmer grip of my hips and lifts me higher up the door, stealing the pleasure of his cock away from me. And with his heavy body pinning me to the door, he takes my arms and slides them above my head.
“Ask nicely.” His lips touch my collar bone, sending a shudder right to my pussy.
“No, if you want it, take it Brax,” I manage to form words, hating how my hips are rolling against his solid abs, desperate to feel friction. He forces my wrists together, gripping them in one of his huge fists, and I gasp with relief when his free hand slides between us, finding my clit, and expertly using the right amount of pressure to send me wild.
His tongue invades my mouth as I turn into a needy wreck and soak his fingers. I can almost hear the desperate words making their way to my lips, and the asshole snatches his hand away just as I feel myself building to something bigger.
“Please,” I spit the word out like it’s venom, and I get a taste of my arousal when the same finger that got me so worked up, coats my lips.
“Please what?” He's the tormentor now, and I’m the victim of my own game.
“Please fuck me, Brax.” I make sure to over pronounce every word for him.
“Good girl, Gracie.” I want to wipe the satisfied smirk right off his face but I want his cock inside me more, and so I yield. I let Brax take pleasure from my weakness, because I’m becoming addicted to what I’ll get in return.
His low growl sounds out over my moan when he lowers me onto his cock, and I feel myself adjust to his size again. All the tension I’ve been carrying inside me releases like a wave smashing on a rock, and my pulse beats fast when I try to wriggle my wrists free from his strong grip. His mouth takes me greedily, lips pressing hard, and teeth sucking me in. While his other hand guides me onto his merciless thrusts, the indents of his fingers leaving bruises on my hip.
I am being fucked, Brax is leaving his mark all over me, and I can’t remember a time when I’ve felt more alive.
I feel him everywhere, even in places he’s not touching. His body crushes me tighter into the door, only his hips and my legs anchored around his waist keeping me upright. His taut, tense palm reaches higher up my T-shirt, sliding over my stomach, and squeezing one of my tits so hard that I squeal inside his mouth.
I’m silenced by his tongue as it rotates around mine, his thumb and finger twisting and pinching at my nipple as his cock works me on the inside. It’s an agonizing thrill and a painful pleasure that sums Brax up perfectly.
His hips crash into mine, feeding my pussy over and over until I feel an orgasm hit me from the tip of my toes to the hairs on the back of my neck.
It’s a fulfillment I've never felt before, an indescribable bliss that wracks my entire body, and consumes every ounce of my strength. And I shudder between him and the door as I give it all up for him.
“I got you, Gracie,” he tells me, his hand reaching up through the collar of the T-shirt and clasping around my throat, as much softer kisses press at my jaw. His thrusts slow down as he holds my eyes with his. His stare harsh and intense, like his eyes can see right inside my soul. They draw tighter and his whole body tenses before I feel him pulse inside me, filling my pussy with warm jets of cum. He holds on to me so tight I feel his fingertips marking my skin, and his chest heaves to take in air as he recovers.
Eventually, his hand releases my wrists from above my head and I automatically wrap them around his neck, his other hand loosening from my throat, and sliding back down my body, to rest on my hip.
“I got you too,” I tell him, pulling his head on to mine so our noses align and our foreheads touch.
Brax is a magnet, his tension draws me in and holds on to me with force, it’s gonna take strength from both of us to pull apart again.
Dragging me away from the door, he walks us over to the bed, his cock still hard inside me as he sits himself on the edge of the mattress. His head rests against my chest while my fingers slide through his hair. No words are spoken, we just hold each other among the silence. I don’t know how long we sit like that before his hands gently start to rock me again, guiding slow, steady rolls of my hips that send sparks up my spine.
There’s no urgency this time, no desperation or anger. We’re just two people, doing what makes them feel good.
His hand cradles the back of my neck, and his strong arm presses into my back, keeping my body tight to his as he keeps us moving, his cock stirring inside me and filling my body with a pleasure I’ve realized has no limits.
We aren’t building to a climax. This is an endless kinda pleasure, a satisfaction that comes with giving into gravitation. And Brax feels it too. I know he does by the way he clings to me like he wants to hold on to it for as long as possible.
So, I pretend right along with him that this never has to end, until we’re a mess of sweat and quivering breaths, and he releases himself inside me again.