Does It Hurt?

by H.D. Carlton

To baby shark, Step aside, Daddy shark is here now.

I’m panicking that I won’t make it, and they’re literally about to close the door when I finally arrive at the gate. “Wait!” I shout. The employee sees me coming, and I swear to God, he deserves a blowjob for kindly stepping aside and allowing me through.

I look over to the guy sitting next to me. His overgrown sandy hair curls against the nape of his neck and the dagger tattoo behind his ear is alluring against his sun-kissed skin. All of his tattoos are—he's covered in them.

I still don’t know his name, but his cock is nice, and that’s all that really matters. Well, that, and his murderous nicotine. He’s not the type I usually go for, but I was feeling lonely and entertained the first guy who didn’t make me nauseous.

I decide I like the ocean, and I like cigarettes. Because I… I am also unforgivable.

“We’ll cross paths again, Sawyer. Life has a funny way of throwing people into your path when you’re meant to collide. It’s up to you to choose to make it permanent.”

Body of a Greek god? Check. Could ruin my life with just the tip? Check.

“Have you ever been bitten?” “Not by a shark,” he drawls. I do a double take, sensing the innuendo within his words.

“You say that like you enjoy being bitten by not-sharks.” He arches a brow, a slight grin pushing that dimple deeper into his cheek. He can arch one brow. Suppose it's no surprise. God has always played favorites. “Is there a reason not to?” I sigh loudly. “Stop trying to knock me up, Enzo. We're not even friends.”

“I’ll try my best,” he states dryly. “And I will accept nothing less. The only type of daddy I'm interested in is the sugary ones.”

“Would you like to go write your number on the bathroom wall?” he proposes. “Don’t think whoever calls would be the type to take home to your parents, though.”

“You put any money out and I’ll shove it down your throat,” he warns, his voice deepening dangerously. My eyes snap to him, round with shock. “Jesus, if you want to be a gentleman, just say that. Weirdo.” He ignores me, and brushes past, heading toward the exit without a backward glance. The dickhead just assumes that I’ll follow him. Well. He's right.

“You’re going to ruin me, too. But unfortunately for you, that’s where I feel most at home.”

Even though his smirk is cruel, it does things to my insides anyway. Twists them up like a rag drenched in gasoline before lighting a match to it.

“You want me to fuck you with my mouth? I can do that, baby. But it will be your pussy I’m fucking.”

I’ve never begged for dick in my life. Never had to, when men are so fucking simple. Though, I guess that’s actually not true. There were a few occasions when they accidentally stumbled upon my G-spot, and I pleaded with them to stay right there. They never did. “Please,” I croak.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs before placing a slow, soft kiss directly on my clit, glancing up at me as he does. I inhale sharply, disappointed when he retreats. “Is that the type of kiss you wanted?”

“No,” I whimper. “You can do better than that.” “Can I?” he muses. “How would I do that? Use my tongue?”

“You taste better than the sweetest wine, and I could fucking drink you forever.”

“Open wider, bella, I need more of you.”

losing control of my bladder, yet it mingles with the acute need to come. Then, he hits a spot that makes me go blind, and oh my God, he doesn’t stop or move even a centimeter. I lose all function.

My eyes roll, and I feel something just… snap. Every one of my vital organs has been overpowered by the orgasm crashing through me, and it feels like I’m quite literally exploding. It isn’t until I’m on the verge of blacking out that my lungs finally open, allowing me to let out a sharp cry.

embarrassed to even say it aloud. I’ve never squirted before, and the experience was as otherworldly as others have claimed. “You did,” he confirms, his voice deepening with unrestrained desire. “And now I want to see you come like that all over my cock.” He leans down, sending chills skating across my flesh as he whispers, “I won’t stop until you do.”

Oh, fuck. I’m dead, aren’t I? Suffered a heart attack of some sort. Surely, a man determined to make a girl come more than once doesn’t actually exist, right?

He’s not just long but incredibly thick, with veins threading throughout the length. “Absolutely not,” I say, shaking my head. “No. No way. I change my fucking mind.” I point at it. “That will puncture a lung.”

“Just the tip, remember?”

“You’re going to make me beg again, aren’t you?” I ask. He pulls back just enough to ensnare my eyes with his own, desire swirling in them like a pit of snakes. “No, bella, I’m going to make you take it from me. If you want a predator to submit to you, then you need to be stronger.”

“So, if you want every inch of my cock filling up your sweet, little pussy, then you better make sure you can handle me.”

“It seems you have forgotten that you need more of me to come, but I don’t need you,” I say in a hushed tone.

matter. I seat myself entirely onto his cock, biting back a yelp of pain.

“Does it hurt, bella?”

“You’re so big,” I choke. Thunder reverberates through his chest, and I think he’s becoming unhinged. “And you’re going to fucking take it,” he snarls.

just how well I can take him. Then, I rise up to the tip and slam back down on him, causing his head to drop back, the water grazing his hair. A cry leaves my throat, only this time, it doesn’t hurt. “Yes,” he encourages, lifting his head once more. “Fuck me just like that, good girl.”

If this man were my kingdom, I’d sit on this throne for fucking eternity.

“Are you ready?” No. “Yes,” I whisper. There’s a slight knowing curl to his lips, and before I can find any victory in bringing out a half-ass smile, he’s grabbing my hips and burying himself inside of me. My eyes pop open, a gasp leaving my lips from the new angle, any victory quickly forgotten.

he anchors my hips down as he fucks me. My hand slaps on the wet rock to brace myself, a staccato cry bouncing off the hollow cave walls.

asks, voice tight and uneven from exertion and pleasure. God, no.

me so fucking good. But I want to see how good you take me after you’ve been coming around my cock for hours.”

“Lift up,” he orders. I listen, straightening my spine and seeking balance on his abs once more. “Touch yourself, bella. Rub your clit and let me feel how tight your pussy gets when you come.”

“My name and God’s don’t belong in the same sentence, bella,” he rasps, his voice as rough as the rock below us. “One is holy, and the other is depraved.”

A strangled cry is my only response as the orgasm slams through me. I erupt, my teeth biting into his flesh and my vision blackening from the powerful waves rolling inside me. He lifts me off him long enough to relieve the pressure, liquid pouring onto his stomach as I convulse.

“Fuck, keep milking every last drop. You can have it all, baby. You only have to take it.”

I’ve never had a man stare at me the way Enzo does. It feels like he’s throwing me onto a table, taking a scalpel to my flesh, and slicing me open to see my blackened soul bared for him.

“That was…” “Don’t insult me by condensing what that was down into a single word,” he cuts in, his deep voice hoarse. “Okay,” I say simply, rolling off him and shuddering from the feel of his cum coating the inside of my thighs. Another thing that feels too intimate. “I won’t then.” “Good.” He’s still staring at me, and my flight instincts are beginning to kick in. “Come home with me,” he says as if sensing that. Normally, I feel relieved when I’m invited into their house, but this time, I feel nothing but sadness. The worst part is—it’s not enough to stop me. It’s not enough to override my desperation to survive. “I’d be happy to.”

“Sweetheart, you carry your baggage like it’s the only belongings you got.”

“Maybe that’s my appeal then. Everyone wants to fix the broken, right?”

“Nah,” he says. “People don’t actually care about fixing you. They just want to shape your broken pieces until they fit their standards. Smooth ’em out, make ’em less sharp, so they don’t cut so deep when they collect ’em. But you ain’t any less broken.”

I don’t want to fight a shark. What I want to do is throttle the little siren that tricked me.

She looks tired—sad—but I’m not falling for that bullshit again. It was one of the reasons I had bothered with her in the first place. She had a sense of humor and a perpetual grin, but nothing about her seemed happy or carefree. Which is exactly why I liked her. My darkness was attracted to hers, and it seems I learned the hard way just how dangerous it is.

That was the best fuck of her life, and she doesn’t even need to open her mouth and tell me so to know that. My soaked bed sheets and her red, shell-shocked face were a clear indication.