by Fox, Logan
“Bastard,” I murmur, narrowing my eyes. “Think you can buy my love?”
“I don’t need to buy anything.” He shoves a hand between my legs and squeezes me through my riding slacks. “I already own you.”
I try to laugh him off, but then his mouth is against mine, bruising my lips, his tongue forcing its way inside.
I melt into the bed, every shred of resistance fading. Briar grasps my breasts, squeezes me roughly through my pants, and then sits up and strips off his shirt.
My lips part as I run my hands over his chiseled chest, fingers lingering on some of his scars.
Football injuries, he tells me. Some, rough nights out partying.
I couldn’t care if he got them cage fighting in a back alley. He’s broken, this brutal prince of mine, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
He swats away my touch, and then yanks open the blouse I am wearing. Buttons ping against the wall and clatter to the floor. I gasp, for a moment shocked at his vehemence, but then his lips are on my breastbone, working their way down my belly.
My pants come off next, tossed God knows where. My bra, my panties. Until I’m naked and bare beneath him, nothing but a few crushed rose petals for modesty.
He sinks his fingers into my thighs and wrenches open my legs. I moan, arching my back as he stares hungrily down at my pussy.
“You have any idea how fucking beautiful you are?” he says, his eyes slowly tracing their way up my body. I shiver, and instinctively cover my breasts from his ravenous eyes.
Briar grabs my hands, forcing them back onto the bed. He shifts his grip, using only a single hand to keep me down, and tugs off his pants with the other.
A second later, his hard cock touches the inside of my thigh.
I shift up the bed, trying to close my legs. But Briar’s between them now, and I know he won’t let me say no again.
He dips his hips down and forward, and I moan when the crown of his dick touches my already soaking folds.
“Are you going to scream for me when I break you?” he murmurs, putting his lips right by my ear.
“Fuck you,” I mutter, twisting my hips. “You really think you’re that big?”
“I know I’m that big.” His mouth closes on the side of my neck and works its way down to my collar bone, then my nipple. He rolls it between his teeth until it’s a tight bud, and then sucks it as he massages it with his tongue.
God, I feel ready to come and he hasn’t even touched my clit yet.
I arch my back, and he takes more of my breast into his mouth. He tightens his grip around my wrists as if reminding me that I don’t have a choice in the matter, and then snakes his hand down my tummy.
He taps his fingers over my clit, and I come out of my delicious haze with a yelp.
“Fuck, Briar.”
“In a minute, my little virgin.” His lips brush mine, and I let out a low moan as he rakes his fingers through my folds. “Gotta make sure you’re ready first.”
I’m not. I can’t be. I don’t know why, but I’m terrified. I shouldn’t be — it’s not that big of a deal…except it is.
It is.
I’ve always wanted my first time to be perfect. Special. Roses and fucking champagne.
I have all that and more.
So why the fuck am I still hesitating?
“Mmm,” Briar says, his lips vibrating against mine. “A little wet, but not nearly enough.”
Then he’s gone. His warmth, the solidity of his body, his whispered promises. Everything.
I barely have time to open my eyes before his mouth closes over my clit.
I groan deep in my throat, my hips arching involuntarily off the bed. Briar pushes me down with his hand on my stomach, and works my clit with his tongue like he’s pissed off at it.
Ecstasy washes over me. I lose myself in space and time and float in an endless sea of pleasure.
I’m dimly aware that I have Briar’s hair in a death grip, but I don’t give a fuck if I pull out every strand by the root.
He makes me come way before I’m ready, and then drinks me down like a shot of tequila.
I’m still shuddering in the aftershock of my orgasm when he rests his entire weight on me and puts his mouth by my ear.
“Now you’re wet enough,” he murmurs.
Fingers sink into my pussy, stroke my folds, tweak my clit. I barely have enough faculties to moan in protest, although trust me: I do try.
“I love you, my little virgin,” Briar says. “But I don’t want to keep calling you that.”
He shifts around between my legs, and then his fingertips are teasing open the folds covering my entrance. The smooth crown of his cock pushes against me.
I stiffen, whimper, try to back away up the bed. “I can’t,” I blurt out.
There are tears in my eyes, and I don’t know how they got there. The room’s starting to spin, my skin crawling like it wants to tear off of my flesh. “Briar, please, I can’t—”
“It’s me, Indi,” he murmurs. He strokes the side of my face. “Look at me, Angel.”
I force my eyes open, blinking through a stream of hot tears.
“Do you see me?” he asks.
I nod, and squeeze a few more traitorous tears from my eyes.
“You feel me?” he says as he gently strokes my pussy with the tip of his cock.
I nod again, and bite back a sob.
“I love you, Indi. I’ll never hurt you. Hear me?”
I nod again. “I l-love you too,” I manage, although my words are so stuttered I don’t know if Briar hears a thing.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Say it again.”
“I love you.” This time the words are clear.
“Again.”
“I love you, Briar.”
“Then let me make you mine,” he whispers. He rubs his cock against me, coaxing me. “Let me in.”
I let out a long sigh. Relax my thighs,
“Deep breath, Angel,” he says. “One deep breath, and it’ll all be over.”
I inhale.
His cock forces its way past my entrance. My pussy resists, clamping around him like a vice. I burn and itch as slices of pain shoot through me.
I whimper, but then Briar kisses away the pain.
I writhe, but he just keeps going deeper.
“Deep breath.”
And I realize I’m still inhaling. My head feels too light, the bed a cloud in the midnight sky.
And then he’s inside me, impossibly deep, stretching me impossibly wide. I whimper again, and he eats the sound with hungry lips.
“Christ, you feel so fucking good,” he murmurs. “So fucking tight, so fucking hot.”
He moves, slowly as first, and then a little bit faster.
Slow, deep pleasure overwhelms those pinpricks of pain inside me. He draws back, and then pushes inside me, so slow I can feel every inch of his cock the deeper he goes.
I moan, my back arching, and grab hold of his shoulders.
“Fuck, you’re everything I ever thought you’d be,” he says. He fills me up entirely, and then stays lodged deep inside me as he rains kisses over my face. “Say I can fuck you now,” he mutters, nipping at my earlobes.
“Wh-what?” I manage breathlessly. “But you’re already—”
He cuts me off with a rude laugh. “Oh, Angel, I haven’t even started.”
My core constricts around him at those words.
“Yes,” I whisper. My eyes open, fluttering as he slowly draws out of me again. “Fuck me.”
“Your wish is my command.”
He sits up, grabs my thighs, and forces my legs wide apart. Then he grabs his cock in a hand, dips his hips, and rams into me.
I hiss with pain, mewl in pleasure. His eyes dart up to my face, then down to my pussy.
I can’t imagine what it looks like. To me, all I see is his beautiful body tensing as he starts thrusting into me.
There’s still pain, right till the end. But I barely notice it over th
e bliss.
He pulls out of me before he comes, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m up on my elbows with my mouth open wide, begging to taste him.
He makes the most wicked sound, like I’m tearing apart his fucking soul, and forces his cock between my lips. I feel him tense, shiver, pulse on my tongue, and then a flood of tangy cum fills my mouth. It’s horrible, but it’s still better than the taste of blood.
Briar grabs the back of my head, forcing his dick so far back I think I’m going to hurl. But I don’t. I suck at him and milk him with my tongue, hoping to make him feel a sliver of the pleasure he’s shown me.
He pushes me away, and covers me with his heavy body again. I swallow hard, trying not to retch at the taste, and then his lips are on mine.
I don’t know how long we lie there for, making out like kids on our first date, but by the time we stop, Briar’s cock is jutting into my belly again.
He pushes up onto his elbows, cups his hands on my face, and stares deep into my eyes.
“So?” he says, a light laugh in his voice.
“So, that hurt. A lot.”
He shakes his head. “Not that.”
“Then what?” I frown at him, feeling like I’ve just come out of a haze.
“Indi Virgo,” he growls. “Will you fucking marry me or not?”
I laugh, and clap my hands over my mouth. “Oh, that.”
He scowls at me, and I run my hands down his face, smiling up at him. “Only if you promise to fuck me like that every day for the rest of my life.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Only once a day?”
“Yes.”
“But what if I want to fuck you in the morning and the evening?”
I shrug “Then we’ll just have to work something out.”
He kisses me again, and this time he moves until he’s lying on his side. Lifting my leg, he pushes against me until I force myself to unclench.
I moan when he’s inside me again.
Then I laugh, but as quietly as I can.
He still hears me, and stops with his dick all the way inside me. “What’s so funny, Angel?”
“Nothing,” I murmur. I reach down and run my fingers around my entrance where he’s stretching me wide as I can go. “Just thinking about what you said that day in Veroza’s class.”
“Really?” he mutters. “Now?”
“Yeah,” I say, twisting so I can look at him over my shoulder. “Guess you were right, Prince Briar.”
He pulls out of me, and then eases his way back in. I shudder at the sensation, and moan when he starts massaging my clit.
“I always am.” He gives me a suspicious look. “Which specific time are you referring to, though?”
I laugh and shake my head at him. “Everyone bows to the prince.”
The End
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About the Author
L. D. Fox writes deliciously dark and twisted stories for people that, like her, enjoy reading it.
Having grown up on names like Graham Masterton, Dean Koontz, James Herbert, Stephen King, Robert Jordan, and Terry Pratchett, her stories are an eclectic mix of the sadistically twisted, the epic, and the darkly comedic. She strives to create characters that are as immersive as the worlds she raises around them. Expect more than your average amount of plot twists, superb dialog, characters you’ll either love or loathe, and a book hangover that’s guaranteed to last at least few days, if not longer. She doesn’t hold any punches - nor should she, for that’s what she expects in the books she reads and what she offers to her readers in return.
She hails from the four-seasons-in-a-day suburb of Johannesburg, South Africa. She’s so busy writing she doesn’t have time for much else except the occasional indulgent Netflix binge. She loves hearing from readers, so don’t be shy to contact her and tell her what you thought of her writing.