Chapter 1: The Edge of Pleasure and Pain
The mirror trembled underneath Margot’s perfectly manicured hands as I fucked her from behind.
It was just the sound of the mirror trying to stay intact, and our heavy, strenuous breathing. Her plump ass slapped against my groin as I thrust my hardened cock into her pussy. Each impact was a punctuation mark in this ugly, beautiful sentence we were writing together. The old vanity was a piece of shit, the wood groaning, the mirror frame squeaking against the wall with every drive of my hips. Peeling strips of wallpaper, the color of a sick rose, trembled in the corner of my vision.
I leaned in to whisper into her ear. “Can I come in you?”
“Yes,” she moaned, the word stretched thin and desperate.
Her back was a slick landscape of sweat in the unstable light. The bulb above us swung on its chain, casting long, leaping shadows that made the room feel like it was breathing. One second her reflection was clear, eyes glassy with pleasure, the next it was fragmented, lost in the dark.
“I’m going to come so hard in you, you know that?”
“Harder, please,” she begged, pushing back against me.
I gave it to her. The muscles in my thighs burned. The air was thick, clogged with the smell of her perfume, my sweat, and the faint, dusty decay of the room. It was all heat and pressure and the raw mechanics of it. I could feel everything narrowing to that point, the frantic rhythm, the slap of skin, the shudder of the furniture.
The light above us flickered hauntingly.
My fingers, moving almost of their own volition, drifted from her hips, over the knobs of her spine, to the sides of her throat. The skin was hot. I could feel her pulse hammering against my palm, a tiny, frantic bird. I laced my fingers around her neck, tightening.
“Tighter,” she choked, her voice a ragged thread.
So I did. The pressure felt good in my hand. The power of it was a clean, bright line in the muddy frenzy. Her gasp was sharp, cut off. Her body went rigid, then arched back into me, a motion that was both escape and invitation. The fluid in my cock surged forward, inching closer to explosion as I choked her, the pressure increasing, the anger coming out of nowhere… a hot, sudden geyser of frustration that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with her. I intended to kill her out of pleasure. To erase the line until there was no difference.
Her hands flew up, not to the mirror this time, but to my wrist.