FaCade (Deception #1) by Ker Dukey, D.H. Sidebottom

hand dropped down to grasp my ass cheeks, lifting me up against his body. Mine worked without command, everything fluid like muscle memory. My body remembered him, wanted him, craved him and it was the only thing that actually felt real in my life. I needed the anchor he was offering.
    He placed me on the table, forcing his way between my parted thighs, the bulge in his jeans rubbing against me to elicit friction hard enough to encourage the arousal to spark. He was all over me, his hands groping my breasts, his cock rubbing against me, his mouth devouring my lips, cheeks, neck. He was animalistic and brutal in his claiming and that was what this was - a hunter claiming his prey.
    He lifted my tee from my body, exposing more skin for him to kiss, lick, bite and mark. When his hot mouth closed over my lace covered nipple a flash conjured an image in my head of us making love, slow and intimate, white sheets beneath us, skin to skin, every part of us touching, connecting as if we were one being. I gasped when it faded and reality rushed in. The gentle love making was replaced with the same man pushing me to my back, tearing my jeans down my legs without removing my panties. He pulled them to the side and thrust fully inside me. I hadn’t even seen him release his cock from the confines of his jeans.
    The rude entry sting eased into wet strokes of pure pleasure. He fit me like a glove, as if I was made to his perfect measurements. There was no doubt in my mind I belonged to him, even without the picture evidence and memory flash of us. My body ignited for him, moved in sync with his, my body remembered that his owned it.
    With every rushed thrust my back scraped against the wood beneath me, moving me away only for his hold on my hips to pull me back onto him. The burn in my core exploded, tightening me around him and milking his cock. He roared into the room like the beast he was, pulling from me, hot ribbons of cum squirting from him to soak my stomach and breasts.
    Our mixed pants filled the void of silence in the room. “Fuck I love how you feel on my cock. You’re such a tight little slut.” His words shocked me, even though he had spoken in such a way before, when I believed I was a captive.
    He lifted each ankle, placing them on the table so he had a perfect view between my thighs. Ripping the lace away, the cool air licked over the wet juices there. “Your cunt is seeping for me, hungry for more. Look at it pulsing. Swollen pink perfection.”
    I suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable at his observation of the after effects of my climax. Sickness clawed its way up the back of my throat. It had only been weeks since I was attacked and yet thoughts of that violation didn’t filter in when he was touched me, fucked me. That should have been a good thing but mixed with his words, I felt disgusting. But Dante was an artist and his craft... me. I held no restraint or power when it came to him.
    “Don’t let the bad memories rule you, Star. Let’s make new ones.” He knew what I was thinking about. His lips came down to suck at my exposed clit. My head dropped back, clashing with the hard planes of the table but the moan was only for the build he grew within me. Fingers plunged into the hot depths of my core as his tongue lapped up every hint of my release. He flicked his tongue over my pink folds using his thumb to circle the hood of my clit. The pressure grew, the firmness pushing down. I was going to explode. His thumb left me so he could slap at my clit. I wanted to tell him no, it was humiliating but the blood rushing to that area, the contrast between his soft wet tongue licking me and his thumb working me too, then the quick, sharp smack had my body in a battle of serene pleasure and pain. The ripples of my orgasm were so intense I screamed as my body convulsed. “Dante! Oh God, yes! Oh God.” My nails scraped at the table.
    “That’s it, Star, fucking cum. Squirt all over me you horny fucking bitch, your pussy