Forget

Lips, hands, teeth and tongue. He is beside me, above me, inside me. I feel him everywhere.

The alcohol may have brought me to this hotel room tonight, but it isn't the alcohol that is making me do the things that I am.

"How hard do you want it?" he hisses into my ear, fingers clutching my hair, pulling my head back. It hurts, but I don't think I mind. There are a lot of things that I would not mind doing right now, with him, for him, to him. His teeth graze my ear lobe and wave of pleasure ripples through me. My knees buckle from beneath me and I fall against him.

As hard as you want, baby.

The slap is unseen, but I feel it. The force of it pushes my head forward and my hands fall forward to break the fall.

I can still taste the gin on my tongue.

Moments pass, seconds, minutes. I lose track. He pulls me by the hair and throws me onto the bed. I gasp for air.

I want him so bad, it hurts. But I cannot tell him, I can't. Reaching for the collar of his shirt, I pull him down with me and gasp again when his lips meet mine. They are hard, strong, delicious.

My legs wind themselves around his waist and quick fingers undo the buckle of his belt.

Hurry, hurry, hurry.

He hits me again, a slap. This time, it does hurt and I start to cry. He grins at me. He likes my tears. One more slap, and then another one. I taste blood this time. It hurts, but I can't make him stop. I don't want to.

"Make me scream," I tell him, staring straight into his brown eyes. He is still grinning. There is a hiss, and I feel coils wrap themselves around my legs and hands, pulling them to the corners of the bed. Leaning forward, he grazes up against my ear and whispers;

"You have no idea what you're in for sweetie, no fucking idea."