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At eleven, I dragged myself out of bed, groaning loudly in announcement as I slumped against the wall beside me.


No matter how many times I muddled through them, my periods always seemed to find new, insidious ways to make themselves exhausting and inconvenient. I lurched toward the bathroom as my stomach gave an agonizing clench, scrambling for the toilet. Another spasm rolled from my thighs through my gut, fizzling out in a deep ache low in my spine as I sat down, wrapped my arms around myself and squeezed my eyes shut.

It was the third day of my housesitting stint for my considerably eccentric neighbors. Beth, the pretty, soft-spoken wife and mother had stopped me to say hello several times when she caught me on my morning walks. When she mentioned on one chilly morning that she was on her way to work at the equine hospital just off the highway, I knew immediately why she had come off as such a kind soul the first time we had spoken. We talked at length about pets and the lengths their owners go to in order to keep them healthy and happy, and she mentioned her daughter in passing. “I’m sure Summer would be amazed by you,” she told me earnestly. It was a huge compliment, but I got the sense that she hoped that I could befriend her daughter and become something of a mentor to her. I had seen Summer out – willowy, self-assured. Exactly the kind of girl I would’ve been intimidated by and embarrassed to be compared to by proximity back in high school. I’d cautiously steered conversation elsewhere and Beth had graciously chosen not to bring it up again.

When I explained one day that I was in a sort of antsy, free-floating state while the college I worked at was closed for break before the fall semester, her eyes lit up and she told me that they had been looking for someone to stay at their house while they went on a family vacation. (“Our marriage counselor suggested that we all get out of our routine and try to get reacquainted in a new environment,” she whispered with a skeptical smile.) My “I’d love to!” was so loud that the morning ambience of crickets and birds came to a sudden halt.

If my core temperature wasn’t already spiking toward outrageous levels, the memory would’ve made my face heat up with embarrassment. I stood carefully, kicked my clothing into a pile in front of the sink, and turned the fan on before slumping into the shower stall. I turned the knob just enough for the water that rained down on me to be lukewarm and then allowed myself a loud, indulgent sigh.

Beth texted me a few days before the Smiths planned to leave, asking me when I could come over for her to go over things with me. Trying not to sound as bored as I was, I fibbed and replied that I was busy until evening. She ended her message stating that I could come over at around six with a smiley face that was so heartfelt that I grinned when I read it.

“Hi! Thank you so much for coming,” she had said, and I realized from the sudden silence that fell over the house that we had an audience. What sounded like the faint droning of a newscaster from another room had even stopped. The nervousness that had somehow stayed dormant until then unfurled in my stomach, and I forced myself to return her smile, giving the sincerest “Honestly, it’s my pleasure” that I could muster. She introduced me first to her husband, Jerry, and he gave an uncomfortably loud laugh and looked between the two of us with a barely-concealed fear as if he was trying to figure out at that second if his wife was having an affair with the neighbor girl half her age. “Oh, right! Hiii,” he sputtered.

It was becoming apparent that the Smiths were a bit stranger than I had assumed.

“Summer, this is the girl I mentioned who’s going to be housesitting while we’re away.” Beth crossed her arms pensively after leading me into the pretty, sun-bathed dining room. Summer glanced up from her phone, genuine interest flitting momentarily through her eyes. She offered an “Oh. Hi” before resuming the superhuman movements of her fingers across the screen. My skin had tingled with unease, and I glanced at Beth to find her face graver than I’d seen it before.

We had heard footsteps echoing from upstairs and a smaller, higher version of Jerry’s voice through the doorway. I’d watched Summer to find no change in her expression whatsoever. Beth called her son into the room, introducing me as the exalted future-house sitter and him as Morty, who was considerably more impressed with me than Summer was. “Oh! Uh, oh, wow. H-hey! Wow.” It was both flattering and bizarre to watch his body temperature rise astronomically as his mom stood directly beside me. Beth smiled and Morty stared and I cleared my throat and twined my fingers together in front of me awkwardly. This had gone on for a good ten seconds as Beth waited for Morty to initiate some sort of socially acceptable conversation (and began to radiate palpable dismay when he didn’t.)

I had been equal parts grateful and horrified when the silence was interrupted by an ear-splitting belch and the sound of the muted TV being turned back up in the adjacent room. Apparently the horrifying embarrassment had ceased to be interesting to whoever was left. I looked at Beth then, and I watched an incredible wash of emotions cross her features: shame, anger, horror, then resignation and finally conviction.

An inexplicable shard of dread had appeared in my stomach when she said, “I’m so sorry – how could I forget? Let me introduce you to my dad.”

Leaning forward, I let the water cascade over my head and trickle off of my lips and the tip of my nose. So tired. The film of shampoo swirled and bubbled hypnotically between my feet on its journey toward the drain. A bead of red joined it, blossoming and turning the tiles below me a gruesome rusty orange. Another wave of clenching pain rose through my thighs and into my stomach and I grimaced and squeezed my eyes shut.

In a strange way, the whole thing felt almost good: being tossed to and fro by the currents of something far more powerful than me; being overtaken by deep, almost cleansing pain one minute and overwhelming arousal the next. It feels visceral and primal somehow.

But Christ does it hurt.

As the cramp subsided, I grabbed my conditioner and squatted down, face aimed away from the showerhead. My eyes focused and unfocused on the bits of glitter in my toenail polish as my limbs sagged with fatigue. You can do this, I reminded myself. Finish up, get dressed, and then comes ibuprofen and the coffee.

I hummed sleepily and popped open the cap on the conditioner.

Beth had then led me through the wide archway into the living room. Their TV was a big one and the décor was simple but homey, just as the rest of the house had been. The man sprawled on the couch didn’t acknowledge us as we entered.

Not waiting for the greeting that clearly wasn’t to come, she spoke over the drone of the uninteresting-looking talk show on television, introducing me by name. “She’ll be watching the house while we’re gone,” she explained pleasantly. She offered me a smile, which I was grateful for. The reception I’d gotten so far from her family had been profoundly uncomfortable. She gestured to the spiky-haired man in a blue sweater and a lab coat and the lightness of her voice was ever-so-slightly strained. “This is my dad, Rick.”

Long limbs draped across the back of the sofa and the coffee table, Rick looked at me with the barest hint of interest. The emotion quickly faded and he sloshed the half-empty bottle of beer in his long fingers against the armrest of the couch. “She’s cute,” he assessed, turning back to the television. “Just make sure she stays the hell away from the garage.”

Despite the prickle of anger I felt at his disregard, his rudeness sent a flood of relief through my veins. Boring someone was far better than receiving their wide-eyed scrutiny.

Dad.” Beth crossed her arms and her pretty face twisted into a frown before my eyes. “Can you pretend to see people as more than their level of usefulness to you for – I don’t know – two, three minutes?”

“Y-you know what I always say, honey,” he replied with a gurgling burp, “honesty is the best policy.”

There was a note of hysteria in Beth’s voice as she continued on: “All right, let’s get to the tour! I’ll give you a house key and put a list of things you need to know on the fridge. I’ll show you the upstairs first…”

Turning to sit so the water flooded down my face and my chest, I gathered my hair up and squeezed conditioner through it. The back end of a cramp rolled through my abdomen and into the muscles of my lower back. A horrifying chunk of tissue slid through the stream of water. Disgusted and fascinated, I watched it circle the drain, stop, and slip beneath the stopper. A wretched streak of blood followed it.

Shuddering, I returned to working the conditioner into my hair.

It was a good ten minutes after I shut off the water before I managed to struggle to my feet and step out of the shower. I scrambled for my bag of toiletries and dug out my sandwich bag of feminine items before doing anything else. For a long moment, I considered a tampon.

“I can’t,” I finally decided, shaking my head slowly at the flowery, perfume-scented wrapper. “It’s too sore. I can’t do it.”

After un-wadding my clean fistful of clothing and drying my hair (having stopped the dryer three times when I overheated so much I started sweating,) I dug out a tube of mascara, leaned fully on the blessedly cool stone counter, and made a few sweeps through my lashes. No matter how awful I felt, I would die before risking contact with a delivery guy or a Jehovah’s witness without looking semi-presentable. And finally – mercifully – it was time for coffee.

I was slumped against the doorframe of the dining room when I heard it.

A thump. A crash, then a deep grumbling sound.

I poked my head back into the hallway to find myself engaged in eye contact with Beth’s father. The halted beginnings of fight-or-flight mode and the embarrassment that followed after superheated my body and sent my heartbeat slamming into my throat.

“Aw, Jesus,” he growled, frowning. “You’re here.”

Irritation was creeping in beneath my shock. “What are – I thought you went with Beth on vacation!”

“And listen to Jerry fall flat on his face metaphorically every time he tries to communicate with another sentient being?” Rick glared at me as if this were a blatantly obvious deterrent. He blinked suddenly. “You didn’t touch any of my shit in the garage, did you?”

Fueled by my hormonal imbalance and adrenaline, I felt my hackles rising. “Oh, don’t worry,” I laughed, turning back toward the kitchen, “The dangerousness of my own incompetence isn’t lost on me.”

I managed to get through the dining room before another cramp began, tearing through my thighs, my glutes, and finally my gut with dizzying pain. A low groan escaped through my clenched teeth as I gripped my stomach and swayed on my feet.

“Oooh.” When I spun around unsteadily, Rick was watching me, grimacing mockingly. “That bad?” At my expression, he rolled his eyes tiredly. “Oh, come on, now. Y-you can’t – uuuurrp – you can’t smell it on yourself?”

“I just showered,” I snapped defensively.

“Not the – the blood and uterine lining and shit, your hormones.” The color draining from my face (or turning it red, I might’ve been overheating so much it felt like chills) evidently irritated him further. “Your, your progesterone. Your estrogen. It reeks. You smell like a fertility-scented air freshener or something.”

“You can’t consciously smell hormones,” I found myself arguing, my voice grinding lower as my stomach gave another disgusting lurch and an unwelcome curl of arousal trailed through my abdomen and up my thighs.

“Ye-yeah, not with a, a single digit IQ, you can’t.” I was already at the kitchen sink, twisting the cap off the bottle of pain medication. I glanced at the directions on the side of the bottle – if one pill does not alleviate pain, two can be taken at second dosage – and took three with a glass of room-temperature water. The prickling of the hairs at the back of my neck told me that he was still there. “You – y’know, in some places, as soon as a girl gets her first period, they stick a tube – a little vacuum hose up there, and suck all the eggs out.”

“Oh, wow. That’s really something.” I filled the coffee filter with fragrant grounds, pushing them up against the sides of the basket to keep the filter from folding inward and leaving me with a pot of flavorless, brownish water. “Where is that, some planet ruled by a militant feminist society where babies are grown in incubators and the boys are, like, slingshotted off into the wilderness at birth?”

“Actually, yeah. That’s exactly it. How – how did you know that?”

I glanced at him incredulously to find him completely deadpan. Keeping my face neutral, I struggled to the cupboard to rifle through the box of assorted granola bars. Before I could grab one, the pain pills hit my empty stomach and it gave a wrathful twist. It took a moment to realize that my vision had gone dark and I was staring at the floor, doubled over with a hand gripping one of the shelves for balance.

“Y’know what you need?” He was closer now, leaning against the dining room table with his slender arms crossed. I grabbed two blueberry cinnamon bars, shutting the cupboard door and turning to meet his smug look as I tore one open. “A good dicking.”

My arms fell to my sides.

It took a good couple of seconds to get the shock to stop closing off my throat. I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re not on the deed, are you? Can I call the cops and have them throw you on the street until I go home?”

He came closer as I fished through the cupboards for a coffee mug. “There’s actually another planet where the male … like gender has a duty to have sex with the female-like gender when their periods start to ease the pain. They see it as the most important service they can perform for their society.”

“Now that one I don’t believe at all.” I fought to hold a straight face as I turned away from him to grab a spoon and the powdered creamer. He was standing at the counter now, arms still crossed and watching me avidly.

“There’s an infinite number of universes. It’s a reality somewhere.”

Another twist of heat climbed between my thighs and low in my stomach and made my anger spike. “What’s your name again?” I looked up at him, leaning on the counter in front of the coffee maker conversationally. “Dick, was it?”

His long arms finally untangled from their place against his chest to gesture at me. “See, you m-meant that – eeeuugh – as an insult, but that could just as easily be – have been a compliment, and you could’ve been implying that my dick was the most memorable thing about me, and that would be why you remembered it as my name.”

“You smell like cheap vodka.”

“You smell like disgustingly fruitful ovaries.”

Unable to think of anything else to do beneath the crashing waves of heat, pain, and horniness, I bit off the end of one of the granola bars without breaking eye contact. The coffee pot burbled and sputtered as he frowned at me with intensity. When the machine beeped and I shook off being scared half to death by it to pour myself a cup, Rick took out what looked like a flask from the corner of my vision and took a long swig. I determinedly did not watch the cords in his slender neck as he swallowed.

A noisy burble in my abdomen was all the warning I had before another blinding cramp knotted up my insides and superheated my stomach. I stirred the powdered creamer in and shoved the rest of the granola bar into my mouth, willing myself not to break into a sweat as the ache rolled through my spine. Glancing at the fridge, I verified what I had vaguely remembered to be written in Beth’s neat half-cursive, half-print. Feel free to turn AC down as much as you’d like! C:

Swallowing thickly, I grabbed my coffee and made a beeline for the thermostat. The down-button was rubbery and clicked pleasantly when I jammed it with my finger until the digital readout was at 60. “Perfect,” I gritted. The muffled clunks and the following muted roar of the air conditioning flooded my veins with relief as I shuffled toward the living room.

I took a huge slurp of coffee, reveling in the familiar comfort of the woody flavor and its warmth down my throat. Sweet, hope-filled relief.

The edge of the cup was pressed against my lips for another when the continuous, overpowering ache culminated in the horrifying sensation of matter shifting low inside me and slipping out. “God dammit – ouch ow ow ow ohhhh holy God ouch.”

It had only happened a handful of times in the past. A sudden, sharp stab like my tissue had torn clean off of my insides; the sickening sensation of rawness rubbing against the walls around it. I silently cursed the ibuprofen for not magically working faster as I scooted my mug onto a side table and leaned against the back of the sofa. The muscles of my inner thighs jumped and the base of my spine burned dazzlingly. My own strained voice muttering get me one of those God damn vacuum cleaners drifted through the cloud of pain and fatigue.

After a few seconds, I gave up on the idea of standing up under my own power any time soon, my upper half resting heavily on the couch as my arms wrapped reflexively around my ribcage.

“You’ve really never had sex during your ‘time of the month’?”

Rick’s voice startlingly close wasn’t enough to make me jump, but I whined through my teeth, partially in dismay that he still existed and partially in a mindless response. My heart thumped dizzyingly in my ears and my back seized in protest.

“Tons of women have told me that it’s awesome. An orgasm is like the mother of all cramps, but it’s way worse and builds up slower.”

Really not selling it,” I grated.

“But it’s good. It’s biological fact that it eases the discomfort, not to mention it’s super gross and gory.”

“I’m going – to go curl up under a piece of furniture – ngh – and pray that my uterus falls out now.” The world was moving around me, shifting around through my spotted vision as I dragged my body in the direction of the guest room. “And isn’t that supposed to augh disgust people?”

“Kill a couple alternate versions of yourself with your bare hands. You’ll get over your infantile aversion to mammalian reproductive cycles.” Rick was following me. My innards pulsed with a frighteningly strong flare of desire. “And what – urrrph – what happened to ‘I just showered’?”

Determined to ignore him, Beth’s father, and his sharp eyes and his slim frame and long, long limbs, I groaned and fought with all my might to raise to my full height once more. Arousal was pounding through me now, climbing with my anger. The all-encompassing aches were pulsing with a wicked, dark undertone, and I hissed sharply when the fabric of my shirt shifted and I realized that, somewhere along the line, my nipples had become painfully hard. I just needed to lay down for a while. Maybe sleep for a few hours. I didn’t have to water the flowers today, and the garbage didn’t go until tomorrow-

Before I could drag myself to my room there were hands on my arms and I was slammed against the hallway wall.

I grudgingly met his eyes.

Jesus he was tall. He stared at me skeptically, long fingers squeezing my shoulders. I fought to look bored as my knees threatened to give out beneath me.

“I’m … I’m tellin’ ya. It’ll be mind-blowing.”

When I swallowed and opened my mouth to reply a horrifying little moan escaped.

How the hell are you losing control like this?

Beth has to be in her thirties and you’re supposed to be watching her house AND THIS IS HER FATHER.

Rick’s eyes darted downward and returned to my own with a smirk. It hit me like a train: I must have been a pathetic sight. Panting, face flushed, nipples straining through my shirt, legs trembling - I wasn’t fooling him in the slightest. I swallowed thickly and finally let myself admire his handsome face.

This is happening.

“What – what am I?” My voice was barely audible above the pounding of my heartbeat. “A third of your age?”

He stared at me hungrily. Fuck, I liked him looking at me like that. “Probably.”

Trembling and fighting to speak, I let my eyes flutter shut. Rick was suddenly pulling me away from the wall, manhandling me and pushing me toward the alcove under the stairs, fist in the front of my shirt as he forced me backward and kicked open the door I’d assumed was a storage closet. Clinging onto his arms for stability, my eyes darted around to see a mess of maps, mugshots and papers covering the mildew-stained walls. The firm grip turned outward and he shoved me down so hard I didn’t have time to think. The angry scream of brittle springs punched me in my shoulders and my hips in the uncanny way that only a shitty cot could manage. When my eyes opened, my knuckles were white on Rick’s sleeves and his eyes were wild as he leaned over me. A shudder wracked my frame at his slim body hovering over my own.

After a heart-stopping moment of Rick impassively observing every little betrayal of what a mess I was, he made a determined sound low in his throat and shrugged off his lab coat. When I let go of it my hands came away shaking. He shoved my legs apart with one of his own, shedding his sweater in the same movement. I was transfixed by the way his wild strands of hair sprang back into gravity-defying shape when he shrugged the shirt off; by the way his skinny, wiry body flexed as he rolled his shoulders and leaned back over me. He pushed his other leg between mine, nudging them apart. Self-consciousness and blinding arousal superheated my skin as I shuddered against the frayed blankets.

“Mmmm.” Rick’s long fingers traced my hipbones where my shorts had slipped down, sliding my shirt up to my collarbone. “Nice.”

Goosebumps exploded across my skin when his fingertips skirted back down, barely making contact as he traced the painfully sensitive undersides of my breasts and counted my ribs. A faint sound escaped me at the heady clench of pain my insides gave in response. My hands closed over his wrists before I could stop them and my desperation to look at him overwhelmed any shame I had left. He hesitated where his fingers hovered over my abdomen, the faintest hint of surprise flitting across his face as I panted helplessly. The look that replaced it was darker than before.

Rick pushed my thighs further apart and pressed a palm to the space beside my head before leaning down over me, not letting go of my gaze the entire time. The thick, heady smell of alcohol on his breath only spilled into my lungs for a moment before he buried his face between my breasts and let out a low, indulgent hum. His fingers skimmed the aching, electrified skin of my breast again. When he deftly tweaked one of my painfully hard nipples my eyes rolled back into my head. “Aaah – oh God.

The warmth of his mouth covering the other one made me squeak and my legs futilely squeeze together on either side of his. He watched me through his eyelashes, flicking the bundle of nerves in slow, steady movements, every swipe of his tongue sending blinding streaks of lightning straight to my clit. My nails dug into his shoulder blades as more fluid slipped from between my thighs. It occurred to me beneath the crashing waves of heat that I was now dripping something other than blood as I gasped and squirmed beneath him.

Releasing my nipples despite my pleading whine, he took my hands from where they were clawing into his back and moved them to his pants. With my pitifully shaking fingers I began to undo the button. Rick had my shorts and panties off before I could get to his zipper.

“Your – wh-what about your blankets?” My words came out in a breathless rush as the freezing air hit my embarrassingly slick sex. He shoved my hands out of the way, shoving his pants down over the bulge straining against the fabric.

“I don’t give a shit,” he growled, pulling out his dick.

Oh dear God.

Squeezing my eyes shut and turning my head away in horror, I found the blankets and dug my nails into them. “What?” he asked innocently.

“Shut up Jesus Christ I hate you.”

Before looking back up at him I could sense the smirk on his face. This was a horrible idea.

The feeling of him pressing against me, sliding in the mess of fluids drooling out of me, shook my spine rigid. He wasted no time pushing past my swollen lips with a sharp hiss. I found my fingers curled over his shoulders once more as he squeezed my hip, holding me still as he bared forward against my aching muscles. God, it hurt, but fuck, it felt good. The head of his cock was barely inside me and already the fullness was overwhelming. I whined as another clench of slow-moving pain rolled through my stomach and burned like delicious, agonizing fire around his dick when he kept shoving through it. His eyes screwed shut and the look of concentration on his face made me hold onto him harder.

“Shiiit.” Rick held me down and moved more, easing himself into me, spreading me apart so much that I felt it in my ass and my stomach and my spine. He met my eyes, stare wild and alive. “You feel as good as you look.”

I could hardly speak beneath the crushing pleasure. “Average?” I bit out. He grinned wickedly, letting out a guttural snicker, and his cock twitched hard inside me. My vision went black and I moaned helplessly.

By the time he was fully sheathed inside me, it felt like his girth was tearing me apart and his head was nudging into my cervix. I shivered and whined as the overwhelming stretch sent ripples of pleasure through my skin. Another cramp tried to rise through my thighs as he drew back slowly, but the explosions of sensation as he dragged against my walls overwhelmed all else, shooting earth-shattering pain and pleasure ripping up my spine. My vision blurred and a low sound bubbled up my throat. Rick pulled almost out, the slick sound of his cock sliding through my wetness deafening in the quiet of the house, and pushed back in, slow and fully, without missing a beat. My body struggled to stretch around him all over again, the biting ache at the base of my spine pulling my hips down against him in a jolt.

Grinning lazily at me, he kneaded my hip with long, gentle fingers. “How’s that?”

I gasped and looked up at him through blurry vision, unable to speak. After a long moment of silent, infuriating gloating, He cocked his head to the side to nuzzle one of my arms. His tongue flicking out to trace the bone of my wrist was almost enough to make me come right then. My head rolled back against the mattress and I sucked in a breath, heart slamming in my throat as his warmth and the heady smell of his breath overwhelmed me. He ground his hips against my ass, bones digging into my skin as his cock pushed deliciously against my aching walls, and began to move.

With a shuddering sound I dug my nails into his skin and let my back arch into his thrusts. Every second of sweet, warm pressure was edged with rattling pain leaping from my legs to the brilliant flashes behind my eyelids. It was too much. A very distant part of me loudly scolded that I should’ve stopped him when I saw how big he was, but desperate, pleading noises were escaping me, my grip on him so hard that my hands were going numb. It hurt in a way that I never wanted to stop. Oh God, I heard my own faint voice breathing as I gazed up at him, oh God oh God oh my God.

“I know, baby,” he soothed, pushing relentlessly into me, his eyes hooded and adoring as he pulled me down to meet him with a nearly bruising grip. The feeling of my own wetness covering his hips and puddling beneath me was enough to be humiliating, but the expression on his face and the mind-shattering feeling every time he hit the end of my canal was collecting heat in me instead, thick, heavy darkness that wrapped itself around my insides and squeezed so hard that I didn’t hear myself screaming until my orgasm was beginning to fade. He pushed me through it, shoving steadily into me as I convulsed beneath him, punctuating every ripple of my walls with agonizing, euphoric hurt.

When my vision began to return and the tremors in my limbs eased, I blinked hazily up at Rick. The weight and looseness of my limbs had left my arms splayed on either side of my head and my legs spread wide where his hips slapped against them. A faint sound slid from my lips as overwhelming sensations continued to assault my aching insides.

“Thaaat’s it,” he breathed, his teeth glinting in a lazy grin. I gasped for air from under the crushing mess of overstimulation and desperate need, struggling feebly to grab onto the sheets. He rolled his hips into me in steady, deep strokes, letting out a low growl. Rick’s gaze raked over me, from where his thick cock was spreading me apart to my breasts where they bounced lazily every time his hips hit my thighs, and finally to my face. The greedy, possessive look in his dark eyes sent a fresh shock of heat through me and I whined, struggling incoherently to voice my approval despite the total lack of control over my limbs. “Feeling better?”

When it was glaringly obvious that I could barely move, much less string words together, Rick brushed my hair out of my face with his free palm. His deep, earth-shattering thrusts continued to send flashes of bright-white overstimulation through me as his long fingers pulled away the strands of hair sticking to the drool-covered edge of my mouth. His thumb ran over my lips admiringly, his voice escaping in a soft gasp as I tightened around him in an involuntary spasm. Whether it was a cramp or an aftershock I didn’t know.

The discomfort from being stretched too much had only grown after coming, shifting from a dull edge to a sharp hurt that leapt across my nerve endings when he pulled me against him hard enough to hit the bottom of my cervix. The sensation was too much for my brain to process, his steady, merciless thrusts too powerful for my body to handle, and I found myself sucking his thumb into my mouth and moaning shrilly around it, desperate for anything to divide my attention, to have control over something. Saliva rose in my throat as I ran my tongue over the salty roughness of his skin and escaped the corner of my mouth, aided by how hard he was shaking the bed underneath me.

Fuck that’s sexy,” he rasped. When he withdrew his thumb from my mouth a desperate cry ripped out of my throat.

Rick, please…

He traced my lips with this thumb once more, smearing saliva across my mouth and readjusting his hold on my waist. I blinked up at him through the blur overtaking my vision. His expression was far from compassionate. Almost fascinated. The high-pitched, pleading sounds I was making sounded nothing like me. I needed something else, anything else. My voice cracked when I struggled upwards through the mindless haze of pleasure to ask. “P-please. I need more. Please.


The long, beautiful fingers messily stroking my face broke contact with my skin and I keened in protest, my mind flooded with relief when his touch returned in a gentle grip on my throat. He pressed down gingerly, ever-so-slightly, and the image of him above me mixed with the dull shadows that crept into the edges of my vision as he restricted my airway had my pussy clamping down on him in a vicelike grip, choking a startled groan out of him. My body seized on him with a fierceness I hadn’t known possible, trying to push the too-large intrusion out, trying to swallow him deep and never let go. There was suddenly strength in my arms, and I grasped his wrist, clinging to it and pulling its force against my neck. Shit. I didn’t know I was into that.

“J-Jesus Christ, you’re – holy shit – you’re gorgeous. Fuck.”

The momentary break in his composure as his brows furrowed and his lips pulled back from his bared teeth made my body ripple powerfully around his cock, everything in me narrowing to the ravenous need to have him over me, inside me, dominating me. My senses dulled at the edges, sharp only where his eyes held mine and where the cords in his neck flexed as he moved. My breath left me in a hoarse whine. The delicious pain of my swollen, bloody insides being stretched too far apart receded into a distant, rhythmic thudding, louder and deeper than my heartbeat, frightening and heady.

Icy air raked down my throat before I realized I was inhaling and my eyes flew wide. My wrists hurt and my fingertips tingled where Rick had pinned them to the sheets above my head. My nerve endings sang as my blood filled with the oxygen to hear them, my nipples so hard it hurt in the icy air, my throat sore and thick from the pressure. My gaze flitted down his skinny frame to find his hips and the pale flesh stretched between them spattered with a mix of blood and my fluids. The wicked grin on his face when I looked back up drew a breathless moan from me. My head rolled back against the sheets and my body relaxed further into the onslaught of sensation, relinquishing the need to protect itself from the abuse, willing him to take anything he wanted.

Fuck your tight little body feels good, you’re so good, ahhh ffffuck you take it well – k-keep looking – looking at me like that and I’m-”

The growl of his voice alone had me barreling toward orgasm despite barely having any control of my limbs left. My voice croaked out despite the burn in my airway, the scratch making my eyes water. “Please. Please yes. Please.”

“Gonna – I’m gonna make you come again first, ah God, make you come until you bleed it all out and your pussy’s too beaten up to c-cramp anymore…”

Pitiful, shrill cries were tearing from my throat, my torso tightening as if pulled taut by a string despite my arms and legs feeling like liquid. It hurt, God it hurt, but I needed it, would take anything he gave. “Please yes, oh God, fuck me, please, please,” I sobbed. My belly hurt; my spine was screaming. My fucking uterus felt like it was bruised as he bumped against it. Rick pressed the hand not restraining my wrists down on my stomach to hold me in place and the way it forced my insides around him harder made me scream.

“Shhh.” His long fingers pressed into my torso, expression grim from concentration as he slid his heavy, soaked cock out of me, almost pulling out of me entirely despite my frantic wail and the fresh tears that streamed down my face. He thrust back in slow, stroking my walls, setting my nerves alight with new agony. With the same speed he pulled back out, leaving me crying pitifully at the thought of him not being in me. This new pace hurt and soothed exquisitely and drool began to puddle in my hair and against the side of my face while his long fingers held back my twitching hands. Somehow I was getting wetter. Warmth dribbled out of me when he gingerly drew back enough to tease my opening, the explosions of sensation wrought from his slow, thorough stokes somehow alarming and sharp. The crushing pressure was building in jolts that had me jerking and seizing beneath the broad, calloused planes of his hands.

Rick leaned in close, his dark eyes completely consuming. “Come for me.”

It hit me like a train.

Someone was screaming and sobbing and babbling incoherently – it had to be me. Rick pressed his open mouth against my neck and growled low as he kept up his deep, precise strokes. My vision went black and the smell of blood and his skin faded.

The distant blur of reality began to reappear as the ripples of my orgasm receded and my body went limp from exhaustion beneath him. He was shaking me, ribcage pressed against me as he let out a guttural sound, and he slammed his hips against my thighs, shivering as the bleary ache of my overworked insides was shot through with the feeling of fresh liquid warmth. “Ahhh fuck.”

His lean frame relaxed over me and I welcomed the weight. Jostled by him collapsing, my face flopped to press against his, the sharp cheekbone against my own covered in sweat as he panted in hot plumes against my neck. The chill of the air conditioning settled as the heat evaporated, goosebumps leaping to attention everywhere his body wasn’t covering mine, the blankets soaked beneath us. I sucked in a deep, delicious breath and consciousness began to dissolve at the edges of existence. A deranged voice somewhere in the dusty space of my head scolded that, somewhere, my coffee had gone cold.

Rick huffed out a breath and burped softly into my ear.

“How-how long are you staying?”