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Broken: The Feral Fugitive and the Reluctant Refuge

Page 33

by J.H. Norris

When we get to what was once Key, he sobs some more. It’s getting boring, listening to him. So I rub his nose in some of the claret. Go on, snot rocket that one out. And I just leave him there, he’s not going anywhere in his state.

I shake myself out, still rock hard. But feeling somewhat relieved. Cracking my neck out.

I love a good bit of violence. It’s enlightening. And always fun to find the ever disappearing place where I go “ooft” at my own handiwork.

Twenty Three

Sawyer

Nik appears in the doorway. His energy is lighter. Has that put him in a good mood? I am entirely unsure about what I just witnessed. I’m not going to pretend that someone threatening to hurt me and inciting all of that wasn’t shamefully exciting.

I can’t think or process anything right now, because Nik’s looking at me. This is a turning point, Sawyer. This is bad news. This man is the reddest of flags. He’s literally still dripping in sweat from beating the shit out of a man he had already tortured. Girl don’t walk, run. Don’t walk, run. Run away. Fast and far. Sprint. Don’t you do it. No, don’t you dare. No amount of hot makes up for that amount of crazy. He will tear you limb from limb. And then, involuntarily, it escapes me.

“Pspspsps”

Shit.

Before I know what’s happened he’s somehow naked, pinning me down and devouring every inch of me. His teeth find every nerve ending on my neck. My body writhes with carnal desire, my nipples perk more than they ever have before and my insides crave him.

“Do it,” I tell him as he rips my clothes off. “Make me yours. Make it fucking hurt.”

Where the fuck did that come from? Make it hurt? Why? I am getting entirely too carried away. This is the kind of porn shit that’s always in the movies and makes no sense. But here I am, in the throes of it, totally lost in myself. Just as unapologetic as he. Driven by primal urge.

On his knees before me, my legs wrapped around his lap, he runs his hand from my breastbone to my navel. A sharp slap to my tit draws an audible gasp before he pushes into me, creating a sound I’ve never made before.

My eyes strain, my back arches, my insides stretch. It hurts in a way that I shouldn’t enjoy. I shouldn’t enjoy any of this. It’s exactly what I need. I instinctively try to curve, to accommodate his size. To rock him in and out, to do something to relieve the pressure from his hardness. It’s relentless. Every bit as overwhelming as him. The top of my head reaches the bedsheets as I flex completely, tears rising in my eyes as he stretches me with every thrust, brutalising me. Destroying me.

I’ve never screamed, never needed to, never wanted to. What is he doing to me? What has he done to me? His hands fully grab each cheek of my ass, slapping both so hard it makes me clench around him, almost locking him in place at full, stinging depth. There’s so much, and I want so much more. I’m crumbling around him. Breaking for him. Becoming something. Something more. I roll my hips over him straining, rubbing my spot over him again and again. Starting to shake from the purest pleasure.

His hands find the curve in my back and he lifts me to him, bringing me home. My body almost collapses into his. Panting, rough groans exchanged between us. Hands attacking every inch of flesh and hair. I’m so fucking close, through the pain and everything. Nothing matters right now. I need us to finish this, together. I need him so much as my chin goes over his shoulder and my arms under his. Riding with him, we find our rhythm. The perfect symphony, pleasure riding through my body like shockwaves.

My nails dig into his back as I start to acclimatise past the stretching sensation and into a deeper connection, riding wave after wave of climax. I dig my nails in deeper, getting him under my nails, as he gets under my skin. Intertwining together, entangled with only a slick layer of sweat between us. The next slap stings my cheek, bracing me again. Thinking of his handprints all over me sends even more excitement through me. Mark me as yours, baby, show the world.

My rocking grind turns to rising and falling on him with a slapping landing. My voice escapes me, every sin leaves my body as he hits every spot I never knew I had. He reaches up and grabs my throat. I know what those hands are capable of and it excites me and I’m not ashamed. I’m here, Nik. Your prey, your princess, everything you’ve ever needed.

This is my man. And I’m going to take every inch, every drop, every minute I can get with him. His breathing starts to change, the way he meets my hips starts to buffer with every thrust. He’s riding the edge with me. He moves his hands, wrapping me in his arms, the friction between us generating an intimacy that’s entirely new to me. I can feel how close he is. I meet his force with mine, pushing him as deep as I can take, our pelvises smashing together.

“Do it… cum for me… own it… own me…”

That does it. It releases something in him. The sounds that come from him next are devastatingly inhuman in the best way. Like I’ve ripped his soul from his body and bared it to his Gods. His reactions encourage me further if that was even possible. His pulsing hits the right place, the right moment, and I tense into him. Sinking my teeth into his shoulder, breaking skin and sucking his hurt from him.

For an eternity we sit intertwined, the tension between us turns to strength. Holding one another panting, neither wanting to let go first. Running my fingers through his sweat drenched mane, not a drop of harshness. I gently pull his hair, angling him to look down into my eyes, I bring my nose to his upper lip, brushing upwards gently.

My lips envelop his. This isn’t sex. I don’t know what it is. I don’t care what it is. Nothing that feels this right could be wrong. Two wrongs making a whole load of shit right. What we are together, I’m unsure. Right now, who fucking cares?

“I guess we’re fucked now, huh?” a playful whisper leaves my lips

He doesn’t answer. He just kisses me again. It settles something inside me.

Twenty Four

Young Sawyer (Age 17)

We have another barbecue for the “family”, but they aren’t family. They’re his employees and colleagues and I guess clients. He takes me by the arm and leads me to a handsome kid, almost throwing me at him.

“This is the girl I was telling you about. Stunning, isn’t she? Beautiful little thing,” he practically shoves me at him with a smack on my ass. He carries on showering compliments at me, making me uncomfortable. I’m grown, now. I hate being around him, but I can’t move out yet. Daddy’s smile is so greasy, how do people even like him? Maybe they’re scared of him, too. I’ve seen lots of his colleagues, but he’s always the boss. I don’t exactly know what he does, but I know it’s bad. Sometimes they just disappear.

“Hey,” he says with such a smooth voice and smile “I’m Dan,” he offers his hand, when I take it he kisses my cheek, making me blush and stare at my dolly shoes.