Fragile

His hands grabbed her roughly, calluses sliding over soft skin and squeezing the fragile bones of her wrists. With a snarl, he slammed her back against the wall, pressing his body against hers. Hipbone struck hipbone with a sickening crack but he couldn’t care less. All he wanted was his relief, his little bit of sanity that could only be found when he was so far inside her that he didn’t know which way was up. There would be bruises there later, gruesome yellowing marks that looked more like violence than anything that would go under ‘making love’, and he’d probably dig his fingers into her sensitive flesh there later. Use it to his advantage to get her to cry and scream.

He drug the backs of her hands along the wall, the sand paper like paint scraping away her skin and leaving bloody trails against the off white paint. She always did look more beautiful with a little blood spilled and a little less in her face. One of his legs pressed between hers; forcing them apart as his tongue did the same to her already kiss swollen and sore lips. The fragile little thing beneath him whimpered and moaned, arching and leaving her shoulders to the same fate the back of her hands had suffered.

Some kind of animal sound worked its way through his chest when she pressed her hips up to meet his, rolling them softly and sweetly. His skin crawled at the touches she littered over him with whatever part of her body she could. Tightening his grip on the girl’s wrists he tossed her to the muddled mattress in the center of his dark room, her small body bouncing on the mattress before he settled over her, taking her wrists back up and over her head in one hand. Wide eyes blinked up at him as she whimpered, his body pressing down on hers. Hating the trust he saw there, he hid his face against the flesh of her throat, biting down and drawing blood.

And she screamed for him.