The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(139)

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel…” He nipped at her breast. “Say it or I’ll leave you high and dry. Well, high and very, very wet anyway.”

“I can’t.” The words were a whine, and he laughed softly as his tongue traced her skin, his hips starting to pick up a rhythm that was more torment than pleasure.

“Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to make you come, princess? Just nod for me.” It was exactly what she could have never said aloud and even though she cursed herself, hated her weakness, wished she could be noble and fierce like Judith—she nodded. A satisfied groan escaped his lips as he propped himself on an elbow to shove his boxers out of the way. She caught one glimpse of his hard shaft before she forced her eyes back towards the ceiling, not even fighting as he lined up and thrust hard.

Instantly, achingly full.

The gasp was half shame and half satisfaction, but he wasn’t waiting for a second invitation. He swung his hips back and slammed into her again, and again, and her hips met him every time. Low grunts of effort left his parted lips, but he nuzzled against her neck like a lover. His mouth tracing firebrands of nipping kisses over her skin, damning her with each thrilling pulse of pleasure from between her thighs.

“Why?” she whispered, biting back the moans as he groaned above her.

“Just accept it, accept that this is what you were always meant for. This is what you’ve always needed.”

The painful truth of it silenced her, and those visions of strength, of being unbreakable, were shaken to their core. Something about him seemed to burrow under all her defenses, all her well-formed logic, all her intellect and day-to-day strength, and it left her bare and raw.

Each thrust stoked the growing fire inside her, the one that had her spreading her legs wider, that kept her from struggling when he forced one knee to her chest to send the next thrust even deeper—making her ache. Making her want him to do it again, because with the pain came some kind of absolution for the pleasure she was taking. If it hurt, it cancelled out the sparkling heat that wound its way up her spine, blurring the thoughts in her brain until all that mattered was that he would keep going. Keep pushing her towards that intolerable horizon she knew was waiting.

And it was close. Too close.

“Please,” she begged on a hoarse whisper.

Give me more. Give me enough to end this. Give me oblivion.

His fist found its way into her long hair, winding until his grip forced her head back, baring her neck to him like some sacrificial lamb. He nipped at her like he might tear her throat out, but his teeth pressed into the place where her shoulder began instead, and as the sharp shock of pain crashed into the swell of pleasure—she came.

It was lightning and thunder in the same breath, the world shaking under her and inside her all at once. She cried out something senseless, digging her nails into his back to leave deep furrows in their wake, and then he growled low against her skin and joined her. His cock kicked deep, and she barely flinched when she felt the warm rush of seed filling her, pulse after pulse.

Damned.

Their breaths were a cacophony, his teeth lifting from her skin to leave the soreness behind, but even that quickly faded into the myriad of bruises and welts that covered her. A map of their interactions painted across her skin in reds and deep purples, blues, and fading sickly greens. Her body was a book she couldn’t bring herself to read, to even acknowledge.

Traitor.

“Fuck…” he hissed as his cock slid from her, but he stayed poised above her, tawny brown eyes finding hers in the aftershock of what she’d done. “You are so beau—”

Tears threatened to choke her as he froze, and she swallowed them down, breaking the stare to turn away from him. “Oh God… no, no, no…”

“What is it, princess?” There was a hint of humor in the languid tone of his voice, the sated beast had returned. Luxuriating in her pain, in her shame.

“I can’t believe I—” The words wouldn’t come and she groaned and covered her face with her hands. “I hate myself,” she whispered.

He laughed quietly as he pushed himself off her, and then she felt him settle on the mattress near her legs. “Take this, it helps.”

Peeking between her hands, she saw the offered liquor bottle and rallied herself into a sitting position. Grabbing the bottle without another word, she unscrewed the top and poured a hearty amount into her mouth. The burn almost made her choke, but she swallowed hard and then coughed, her eyes watering as the fiery, sweet rum hit her stomach like a bomb going off. Remnants of the explosion immediately crashed into her bloodstream, her body taking it in as if it had been waiting for it, and before she’d opened her eyes again she felt the first rush. “You’re right,” she rasped, and took another hard drink, feeding the fire. “This is what I needed.”

“All right, share.” He took the bottle back and tilted it up, swallowing with no visible reaction to the burn.

“I want more.”

“Of me?” His lips formed a lopsided, cocky smile, and she rolled her eyes and turned away from his angelic face. There was a throbbing pulse between her thighs, the lingering sparks of her orgasm refusing to be ignored as her nervous system tried to wind down.

Too much adrenaline. Too much fear. Too much futile rage.

“Will you just tell me why you’re doing this?” There wasn’t even desperation in her voice anymore, she felt hollowed out by all the torment, the mind-games, the violence. When he offered her the liquor again, moving the bottle into her line of sight, she took it gladly.