Marked by Eveline Hood

I find myself alone in a pub mid-day, alone as is the norm these days. It is packed full with all walks of life, all jovial and downing ale in the heat of the day. I’ve been alone as I travelled for my job, with little time to maintain a relationship, let alone find a Mr. Right Now to fulfill my needs. The last time was a rough and quick fuck in the back room of some French Bistro, the name forgotten because I’d been too drunk to pay any attention to it. That was 3 months ago, and I was in need. Not with this crowd, I think as I down the last of my third pint, the alcohol making my vision waver slightly as I rise to my feet and make my way to the back of the bar, to the washrooms.
·
A familiar face peers out of the sea of strangers, his eyes catching mine with a smile. I find him attractive and give him the signal to wait a moment. I needed that washroom to freshen up and gather my wits. My body was screaming for some relief, release and his gaze had started a fire. He nodded at me, and I escaped into the confines of the Ladies, taking care of my basest needs before washing my hands and touching up my face and hair. No prize, at least I don’t need a paper bag, I thought as I pulled the door open and walked straight into the arms of Mr. Bright Eyes. He looks over his shoulder to the bartender, who nods,  and I am propelled backwards, back into the ladies.  He smiles and locks the door behind him,
 ·

His mouth finds mine, tongues tangling, tangoing, hands roughly holding my breasts and thumbs flickering against the hardness of my nipples. He lifts my shirt over my demi-cup bra, breaking the kiss and pulling one breast free, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin and he suckles.  His other hand finds its way under the skort I wear, stroking my thigh, then folds through the barest lace of my thong. I gasp, his fingers pressing hard against my clit, and moving rapidly, making me nearly scream with delight. “Remember me? I saw you at the Tower today.” I did remember him, his eyes followed me everywhere. “Stalker,” I breathe, feeling my orgasm close, and he pinches my clit hard, sending me over the edge, his mouth inhaling the shriek of pleasure that I can’t hold back.

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I reach to release the beast he has pressed against me, like stone is his arousal, and he grabs my wrist, twisting it away, and pulling me to the largest stall.  He leaves me a moment, unlocking the washroom door before enclosing us in the little room. He just stands, watching me, stroking his prodigious weapon while his eyes eat away at my body. Tired of waiting, I approach, only to see him hold his hand up. The door opens, and a gaggle of chattering women enter, blathering on about some concert they were in town for, giggling like fools while he lifts me off my feet and traps me between the cold wall and himself, the tip of his hot erection teasing my opening before thrusting forward.

·

“Just like penthouse,” he huffs in my ear, making my neck tingle, and my own breath come in harsh puffs from the force of his entries. I didn’t mind and bit him hard on the shoulder as I scratched his back through the soft cotton of his t-shirt. It was little protection, apparently, his breath hissing through his teeth and slamming into me harder. The giggles stopped a moment when I, unable to help myself, moaned softly as I came, drenching him in my pleasure.

·

“Someone’s having fun…you go honey,” one of the women said as they exited, soliciting more of the inane laughter. He laughed too, resting against me while my spasms quieted, his lips travelling along my collarbone, nipping the skin enough to sting. “Why’d you wait so long?” I asked, as he began to move in and out of me again. I didn’t really care. His attentions were exactly what I needed.

·

Our bodies came together perfectly, his flesh making light slapping sounds against mine, his hands on my ass, and I lose awareness of anything else other than how he felt, how the building tension made my pussy clench tightly around his cock; I was nothing but sensation, nerve endings strung together by desire.

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My side was aching and it intensified as he stabbed me with his arousal, searing my insides with his hot juices as he came. I couldn’t breathe, and dug my nails into his shoulder, and still he doesn’t slow. Nor does the pain. Again he laughs, lowering me to my feet and steadying me as my air is stolen. “I wanted to make sure you were relaxed. All that beer helped didn’t it?” I stare at him, each inhale a flame of agony. “Oh, you won’t die, Hurts doesn’t it?”

·

The pain is now a burn, subsiding as he pulls out of me, leaving me staggering and empty. “You’re mine. I’ll be back for you.” He kisses me hard, pushing hard against my aching ribs, and is gone,  the door to the washroom squeaking as he finds his egress.

·

The mirror above the sink tells a story that I would have preferred stay untold. My hair is a mess, lipstick smeared and lips swollen. He left teeth marks on my skin, barely hidden by my shirt. Fixing the hair and make up is easy. Explaining the blood that was darkening on my top is not. He cut me, not deeply but enough to leave a mark on my skin, one that will scar, ensuring I will never forget. I hope he comes back soon….

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the_twisted_path_group_matt_horwich

The Orphan Killer 2 Bound x Blood Created by Matt Farnsworth ©™ Full Fathom 5 Productions LLC
The Orphan Killer 2
Bound x Blood
Created by Matt Farnsworth
©™ Full Fathom 5 Productions LLC
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