Page 9 of Shatter

"You think you want this, Mel?" I demand, as I wrack my brain for more ways to scare her. I rip the zipper down the back of her dress, roughly pulling at the fabric until she's only in her underwear. I flick the latch on her strapless bra before fisting the back of her thong and pulling it so hard it rips.

I undo the buckle of my belt, pull down my zipper, and pull myself out.

Fuck!

I grind my cock against her backside. I've been semi-hard since the lights went down, but having her pinned beneath me is too much. I can smell her perfume, I can smell her lust, she's soft where I'm hard and everything in my brain short-circuits.

She's a gorgeous girl. She always has been. But it's her submission - her trust - that has me rock hard. She needed something and came to me for it.

I need her to safe word me. Instead, she arches her back, dragging the smooth skin of her ass over the head of my cock.

I growl, squeezing my cock in a punishing grip.

Fine. If this is what she needs, I'd rather she come to me than anyone else. I spin her roughly, slamming her back against the wall.

With one hand pinning her chest to the wall, I hook my elbow under her knee, lifting her off of the ground a few inches before impaling her in one swift thrust. She's wet, hot, and so fucking tight I have to take a moment to breathe. I've reviewed her application hundreds of times since I caught her here last. She's on birth control, clean STI, and selected "condoms optional". Fucking optional.

If any other man in here took her raw, I'd kill him. And that's not an exaggeration. If any other man were this rough with her, taking her bare, he wouldn't be walking out of here alive. The only reason I'm allowing myself to, is because I know she trusts me, and I always have her best interest at heart. I wouldn't trust any other man to put her first the way that I always do.

I drop my forehead to hers and groan. She whimpers, her fingers digging into the shoulders of my suit.

I never take my clothes off when I fuck. My slacks are open enough to get the job done, but my loose undershirt hides any of my scars from view.

Anger and frustration roil up in me - being forced to be rough with her. I pull my hips back before slamming them into her again and again and again, fucking her into the wall, a growl bubbling up my throat.

Mel, on the other hand, has her eyes rolled back in her head, each pump of my hips pulling a gasp or a mewl from her chest.

Fuck, she looks beautiful this way. Her hair's a mess, she has tears streaming down her temples, and the pale skin of her chest is covered in red blotches. She looks completely wrecked, and her face is twisted in pleasure.

"Fuck, Mel," I grunt. I can feel I'm already close, and so is she. Sweat drips down my temple as I unleash all of the anxiety and frustration that have been building this past month as I waited for her to show up.

"I'm close. God, Harry, I'm going to come."

She arches her back again, nearly crawling up the wall as if to escape to building pleasure within her. I drop the hand holding her chest and pinch her nipple hard. Her pussy grips me harder as she comes with a scream.

With another pump of my hips, I unload into her, jet after jet of cum, frustration and relief. I fuck her through both of our orgasms, not wanting this to end, but knowing it should never have started in the first place. She collapses, bonelessly against me. When I've caught my breath, I slip from her warm embrace and wrap my free arm around her back and lift her bridal-style over to the bed. I lay her gently on it before flicking on the sidetable lamp and pulling off my goggles.

She looks so fucking ruined, but there's a soft smile on her lips that I've never seen before. I'm stunned as I realize that it's because this might be the first genuine smile I've ever seen on her face. I move to the ensuite and run warm water over a washcloth and clean myself before tucking my spent cock back in my slacks. The white washcloth comes back tinged with a little blood. My bones run cold.

Please don't tell me I just took her virginity.

When I go back into the room, though, I'm not ready to disturb her peace and demand answers.

I kneel on the bed and bring another warm washcloth to her. Her knees are up, but pinched together. I gently spread her legs apart and frown at what I find there.

Her pussy is red and swollen and perfect, but on either side and just above her pubic bone are small, parallel, red lines in various stages of healing.

I look back up at Mel, but her face is a perfect Mona Lisa smile.

I gently use my thumb to push my cum back inside of her where it belongs. The idea of her leaving here without a reminder of me leaves me feeling hollow.

I'm not a good man.

I notice at the bottom of her opening she's split, which explains the blood from earlier. I reach into the side table drawer and pull out the cream we keep there.

Some of her self-mutilation wounds came open again with my roughness, so I wipe those with the cloth as well and gently apply the cream.

She doesn't owe me an explanation, especially not during aftercare, but they are worrying. They're obviously in a place no one else would see for a reason.