that makes me who I am.
The girl with all the feelings, all the emotions.
The girl in doomed love.
With the guy who’s fucking her.
Who presses his hand on her stomach and strokes it, as if feeling for the ridge of his thick cock invading my body in such achy and wonderful ways.
“Am I hurting you?” he asks, his eyes narrowed, his hand massaging.
“In a good way.”
He digs his fingers into my belly as his eyes go dark, darker than before. “Good.” He moves his hips, his pelvis grazing against my bare ass, making me whimper with the pressure. “Because I want to fuck that womb too. I need to fuck that womb. I need everything you have. Every fucking thing, Salem. Everything you have belongs to me. It’s mine. All of it.”
His words, possessive and growly, hit me in the very thing he wants to fuck, my womb, and I push my hips back.
I take him in further while moaning, “Yes, all of it. All of it belongs to you.”
He takes me then.
He stretches me in new ways, making space for himself in the corners that I didn’t even think existed before.
He presses his palm on my stomach, as if squeezing out my juices and greasing up his cock even more, and I moan again.
I squeeze his fingers on my stomach and bring my other hand away from the wall and over to the back of his neck as he moves inside of me. He’s slowly picking up the rhythm and his body is pushing into me with every ram of his cock.
And I let him ride me as I hold onto him.
He pounds, pounds, pounds inside of me and I realize that he goes in so easily now. So wonderfully as if he’s slicing through creamy, soft butter.
Every time he goes in, he jabs me in the womb and I scream. And every time I scream, he pushes harder inside of me, his hand digs deeper into my stomach, massages it in broad strokes as if soothing the hurt he’s causing.
But the hurt is so good, so delicious that I only want more of it.
So I surrender.
I go flush with the wall, my nipples scraping against it as I writhe between the bricks and him.
All the while he keeps fucking me, practically bouncing me in his lap and I realize that the wall I’m stuck to is pulsing too.
Both with our violent, passionate fucking, and the music.
The sad love songs.
I can’t be sure what song it is but I hear violins and melancholy and I let the years and years of love wash over my body.
I let the music – the one he’s creating with his grunts and his slapping hips, and the one seeping through the walls – soak into my skin.
Letting go of my hip, he reaches his hand up and wraps it around my throat. Then he bends my neck to the side and for the first time ever, sinks his teeth over my pounding pulse and sucks on it.
And like a crazy girl I smile.
I smile because he’s giving me a hickey.
He’s taking a bite out of my pulse, my heart, the heart that’s filled with all the love for him, and I come.
My womb contracts.
My pussy clenches over his ramming length and I have to give up the violins pulsing through the wall and arch up against his chest.
But it’s okay.
I’ll give up everything for him, all the sad love songs and all the bike rides. All the desolate bridges and lonely places.
I’ll give up myself because I belong to him.
I belong to my darling Arrow.
As soon as I think that, he comes too.
He comes with a roar, his hands clenching and clenching my flesh and his hips stumbling and jerking against me.
His cock expands so much that I think the latex will burst and all the ropes of his cum will shower over my womb. And my greedy, lovesick womb will absorb it like I absorbed the violins and his violent fucking.
My entire body will absorb him.
Absorb everything he gives me.
The guy I’m in doomed love with.
My Arrow.
Something is wrong.
Very, very wrong.
I mean, of course I knew that. I knew that something was wrong because not only did he come back from LA feeling all mysterious and strangely restless, he also actually told me that he had a shitty week.
So I know things aren’t all that great.
But then as soon as we were done back in the alley behind the bar and he dressed