Does It Hurt?

by H.D. Carlton

“I said I’d give you a kiss for coming with me, didn’t I? Unlike you, I’m not a fucking liar.” And just as the last word slips from his mouth, his teeth clamp onto my bottom lip and bite. Hard.

He rips himself away, breathing heavily, my blood smeared across his chin. I’m gasping for breath, terror constricting my chest from the feral look on his face. He’s fucking scaring me, and as his eyes zero in on my bleeding lip, I have a sick feeling he hasn’t even begun to truly scare me yet. “Such a pretty sight, to see you bleed for me,” he rasps. “I don’t think I’m the only thing that’ll love it, though.”

Before his words can be processed, he’s forcing my head down. Immediately, his intentions become clear. My eyes widen as a horror unlike anything I’ve ever felt grabs ahold of me. Of my heart, my lungs, my entire fucking being. “No, no, no, NO…” I scream, fighting like my life depends on it because my life does depend on it. “You wanted to be a shark expert, baby girl? You wanted to take that from me? Then you gotta learn how to fucking swim with them.”

My pleas are cut off as he finally pushes my head...

The water where two massive great white sharks are lurking. I desperately thrash against him, feeling like the predator in the water is going to come up any second and bite me. Meanwhile, Enzo continues to move inside me, his other hand bruising on my hip.

“You brought me out here to make me think I’m going to die. And now look, we’re both going to die.”

It’s not hard to see she’s as broken as they come—the only thing warm about her is her pussy.

She’s the light that blinds you right before lightning strikes.

She smells of the ocean, and I fucking hate it. It's my favorite scent, and she doesn't deserve to wear it.

Sawyer could make me come with a single look.

She's a fucking godsend when it comes to sucking my cock, but she can't lie to save her life.

A strong gust of wind whips through her hair, sending the tangled curls over her face. My fist tightens, ignoring the urge to gather it in my hand and use it to hold her still while I fuck her mouth.

“We're a team now, baby. Do what you do best and kill anything unfortunate enough to come near you.” By the time I finish my sentence, my hand has moved to her jaw, my thumb swiping along her puffy bottom lip, a cut on it from when I bit her.

“Does it hurt, baby?” he asks quietly. “Not being able to scream for me like you want to.”

“This little cunt is so fucking wet,” he continues, his accent deepening with desire. With my breathing silenced, the only thing that can be heard above the rough timbre of his voice is his fingers pumping into my soaking pussy. “Do you hear how pretty it sings for me? Why don’t you sing me a lullaby, bella? Let me hear it.”

He may not have deserved what I did to him, but that doesn't mean he deserves my body. Now, if only I could just stop fucking giving it to him.

He rolls his hips, his hard length pressing firmly against my clit. “Enzo,” I snap, but it comes out breathy. His lips lightly skim across the shell of my ear. “Would you scream this time?” he questions darkly. “You always do when you create your own little ocean all over me.”

displeased with my manners. He’s not a meek man, but it’s become increasingly evident over the past week that he keeps the peace with me for Sawyer’s sake.

He likes her. And I don’t fucking like that about him, either.

“You could be. Are you here to murder me, Enzo? Is it because I don’t return your affections?” “Baby, if anyone were to become obsessed with you, it would only be for what’s between your thighs, not because you have anything else to offer.”

She always has something to say until she’s faced with the truth of her character and actions.

I’ll admit—I was wrong earlier. Her sweet pussy isn’t the only thing that is addicting. Not when her fear is just as appetizing.

“He came in here to apologize and then ended up saying if a man touches me, I asked for it because I'm wearing a bikini and shorts.” He takes a menacing step toward me, a black shadow blanketing him. “Did he touch you again?” He doesn't wait for an answer, turning to glower at the door. “Lo uccido,” he spits, deathly calm. “What does that mean?” He turns to me, searing me beneath his blazing stare. “It means I’m going to fucking kill him, Sawyer.”

room to talk anyway.” He turns that glower to me, and I shift. He's seriously scary. “Come again?” he challenges. “Well, did you not fuck me while actively drowning me? You’re going to act like there isn’t something wrong with that?” A dimple begins to appear in his cheek, and I swear to God, if the fucker actually smiles right now, I’m going to kill him. “You’re right,” he concedes, pausing a beat before saying, “and I’d do it again. I’m the only one allowed to touch you, bella ladra, and I’m the only one who will cause you pain. Capito?”

“N-nothing,” I stutter. “You woke me up, remember?” “That’s another lie, Sawyer. I can smell your pussy from here. That’s not nothing.”

“Oh, fuck,” I moan, panting when the pointed end of his tongue swipes back and forth across my clit, igniting every single nerve within.

My hands grip the pillow above me, curling into it fiercely. He diverts his attention down, plunging inside my pussy with fervor, licking me so thoroughly that I’m convinced there isn’t an inch of me he hasn’t feasted on.

He hums against me before growling, “How does it feel to be eaten alive?” “It’s not enough,” I mewl breathlessly. “I’d rather you fuck me to death.”

“Why did you get to be God’s favorite?” He stares down at me with a savage expression. “You can ask him yourself when I take you to see him.”

“Oh God,” I cry, trying to keep my voice down but failing miserably. “Can you see him, baby? Ask him for forgiveness.” “Why?” I pant, another high-pitched moan nearly swallowing the word. “Because you worship me now.”

God, how could I not worship him? Sex with him is the only time I’ve ever prayed.

“You’re going to come for me, bella, and you’re going to fucking paint me in it. If I’m not covered, then I will make you do it again until there’s nothing left of you.”

Then he’s driving inside me again, resuming his position with both hands gripping my hips while he savagely rolls his own into mine. It doesn’t take long before he’s lost right alongside me; my name growled so deeply, that I feel it along the surface of my skin.

“Hey, Sylvester?” I call, keeping my back to him. He doesn’t verbally respond, but I know he’s stopped walking, his uneven gait no longer audible. “Don’t touch me again. And don’t touch Sawyer, either.” The silence turns murderous. It feels like having a serial killer breathing down your neck, their intent to kill you as potent as the salt is in the air.

She still smells of the ocean, and she's so fucking beautiful—that's what hurts. “Don't hide your tears, bella. You're so pretty when you cry.” “I'm so—” “I said I wouldn't apologize until I meant it. I suggest you do the same,” I tell her, turning away. I thought I'd be able to breathe easier when I did, but she's still taking up too much space in my chest.

I said I’d never fuck her again, but in my weakest moment, I gave in. The nightmare of my mother abandoning me on those damn steps, laughing as she drove away from me, was fresh in my mind. I needed to escape it, and seeing the evidence of Sawyer’s unbending need for me was too good to resist. Because right before me was someone who couldn’t let me go even when she wanted nothing more than that, and all I wanted to do was make sure she couldn’t let me go.

Despite how cruel I can be, she comes undone for me so fucking easily. As if she was made just for me.

if it were true, then fuck Him for making her the bane of my goddamn existence. And fuck Him for making her the one thing I want most.

The thought of carving my name into her soft skin has my cock thickening. She makes it so hard to feel sorry when hurting her is so fucking intoxicating.

“That defeats the purpose of not hurting me.” “I never said I didn't want to hurt you.” “You’re not carving your name into my skin, you freak.” I cock a brow. “Watch me, bella ladra.”

“You like to fuck me when you hurt me, Enzo. And you said you wouldn’t unless I begged, which I will never do.”

How is it that I want to hurt her, yet protect her from my own damn self?

the longer I stare at her, the harder it is to fucking breathe. It’s enraging that she has that control over me—that she holds so much power, she can suck the oxygen from my body like it’s hers to wield.

For reasons I’m not ready to name yet, that pisses me off, and the bitterness toward her only deepens. Everything she does just… pisses me off.

If she thinks she has no control over her life and the decisions she makes, I’ll show her what it looks like to be truly uncontrollable. And if she thinks she’s broken now, I’d like to see how well she can walk after I’m done.

After the shipwreck, I had told her that she was weak. But I realize now that I was wrong. Being scared and weak aren't synonymous. It takes strength to keep getting back up after constantly being knocked down.

Sylvester shifts his body toward hers. “Stay here then, sweetheart. You’re more than welcome to stay here with me.” “Absolutely not,” I bark. My bones are ready to take on a life of their own, and I’m not sure what will happen first—taking Sawyer out of here or wrapping my hand around the old man’s throat. “Can’t say anyone would find me then,” she agrees. She pats Sylvester’s hand, still resting in the same spot where she abandoned it. “I’ll think on it. But the room is spinning, and I can't see my thoughts right now.”

Sylvester keeps quiet as Sawyer stands, wobbling and seeking balance from the table. I immediately get to my feet and round to her side, grabbing her arms and pulling her into my chest. There’s a slimy feeling crawling down my spine. Definitely from Sawyer’s story. But also from the way Sylvester stares at her. As if he’s already decided she’s staying, and now he only needs to make sure it happens.

“Does touching me make you feel even more disturbed than usual?” I ask, bitterness staining my words. “Now that you know my brother liked to touch me, too?”

“Don’t ever think of yourself that way. And don’t ever think that I will, too. You’re so much more than the people who have hurt you.”