Chapter 15: Fuck like maniac
He collapsed onto me, a crushing weight slick with sweat, his breath scorching the side of my neck. My own lungs burned. Every muscle screamed. The ghost of tears still prickled my eyes, mingling with the salt stinging my scraped knees from where he’d held me down moments before. The marigold garlands hung limp, their vibrant orange a garish contrast to the raw intimacy staining the silk sheets. Candlelight flickered, painting shifting shadows on the ornate ceiling, dancing like demons over the wreckage of my wedding night.
"Fuck," he rasped, the word thick, almost slurred. His hand slid possessively over my hip, fingers digging into the tender flesh he'd slapped crimson just minutes ago. The sting flared anew under his touch. "Tight little virgin cunt. Even after taking me like that."
I didn't whimper. Didn't plead. A spark, hot and dangerous, ignited deep in my gut, fueled by the lingering ache and the sheer, brutal reality of him. My nails, already raked down his back earlier, found a patch of unmarked skin near his shoulder blade. I dug in, hard.
"Ah!" He jerked, surprised. Lifted his head. His dark eyes, heavy-lidded with satiation a moment before, narrowed. Not angry. Intrigued. Challenged. "Feeling fierce, little bride?"
"Chup kar," I hissed, the filthy Hindi word tasting strange and powerful on my tongue. Shut up. "Bas kiya tune? Is that all?" Is that all you can do? The challenge hung in the thick, jasmine-scented air.
He laughed, a low, dangerous rumble against my skin. "Oh, we're just warming up, Saumya." He pushed himself up onto his knees, straddling my thighs. The movement pulled him almost completely out of me, a sudden, shocking emptiness. His cock, still thick and glistening, jutted obscenely between us. He gripped it, giving himself a slow, deliberate stroke, his eyes locked on mine. "You think you can handle more?"
The sight, the arrogance, fanned that dangerous spark. "Haan," I breathed, pushing myself up onto my elbows. My body protested, muscles trembling, the deep ache between my legs a constant thrum. But something else pulsed there too. A dark, humming energy. "Dikha, saale." Show me, bastard.
He lunged, not to enter me, but to pin me back down. His hands clamped on my wrists, slamming them beside my head. His mouth crashed onto mine, biting my lower lip hard enough to draw a metallic tang of blood. The pain was sharp, immediate. I bit back, sinking my teeth into his shoulder, tasting salt and musk. He grunted, pulling back, a dark admiration in his gaze. "Good girl. Fight me."
He released my wrists only to capture my breasts, squeezing them roughly, thumbs scraping over the stiff, sensitive peaks he’d bitten earlier. I arched, a gasp torn from me – not entirely pain. His head dipped, mouth closing over a nipple, sucking hard, teeth scraping. I cried out, my hand fisting in his hair, pulling, not pushing away. "Jaanwar!" Animal!
He laughed against my skin, the vibration sending shivers through me. "Your animal," he growled, shifting his hips. Without ceremony, he slammed back into me. I bucked beneath him, the sudden, brutal fullness stealing my breath. He set a punishing pace immediately, driving deep, his hips pistoning. "Take it!" he commanded, his voice raw. "Take all of it, you fucking tight little whore!"
The crude English word, flung at me in the opulent ruin of my bridal suite, sent a jolt through me. Shame burned, but beneath it, that dark energy surged. "Teri maa ki!" I spat back, the vile Hindi curse ripping free. Your mother's! I met his thrusts, lifting my hips, grinding against him, seeking the friction that was now less pain, more fire. "Haan, aaah, haan! Chod saale, chod!" Yes, ah, yes! Fuck me, bastard, fuck me!
He groaned, the rhythm faltering for a split second. I felt it – the telltale tightening at the base of his cock, the hitch in his breath. Not yet. With a surge of strength fueled by pure, reckless defiance, I shoved hard against his chest. He was heavy, powerful, but surprise gave me leverage. He rolled slightly, and I twisted, scrambling on top, straddling him.
His eyes widened, then darkened with lust. "Ride me, you dirty bitch."
I sank down onto him, gasping as he filled me completely. The angle was different, deeper. I braced my hands on his broad chest, slick with sweat. His hands clamped onto my hips, guiding, urging. "Move! Fucking ride me harder!" I rocked, grinding down, the friction igniting sparks along my nerves. He bucked up beneath me, meeting my movements. His hands moved to my breasts, squeezing, pinching my nipples hard. The sharp pain blended dizzyingly with the building pressure inside me. "Saali," I moaned, throwing my head back, "chod na, zor se!" Fuck me, harder!
He obliged, thrusting upwards violently. The coil inside me wound tighter, tighter. Pleasure, sharp and undeniable, began to crest. "Yesss," he hissed, watching my face contort. "Cum for me. Show me how much you love my cock inside you."
The command, the sheer vulgarity, broke me. I shattered, crying out, my body clamping down on him in fierce, pulsing waves. Pleasure washed over me, hot and blinding, drowning the ache, the shame, everything.
As the tremors subsided, I slumped forward, panting. His cock was still hard, throbbing inside me. He gripped my hips, preventing me from collapsing fully. "Not done," he growled. He flipped us again with brutal efficiency, rolling me onto my stomach, dragging me up onto my knees. Before I could catch my breath, he was behind me, spreading my cheeks, his blunt tip pressing against my still-tender entrance.
"Nahin!" I gasped, trying to twist away. "Peeche se mat!" Not from behind!
"Shut up," he snarled, delivering a sharp, stinging slap to my ass cheek. The pain bloomed bright. "Take it." He shoved forward, burying himself in one rough stroke. I cried out, the angle impossibly deep, stretching me painfully. He gripped my hips, fingers digging into the flesh he’d just struck. His other hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back. He leaned over my back, his mouth finding my shoulder blade. He bit down. Hard.
"Saale!" I screamed, the pain a white-hot brand. I reached back blindly, my hand finding one of his heavy balls. I squeezed. Hard.
"FUCK!" he roared, his thrust stuttering. He jerked away from my bite, releasing my hair. But he didn’t pull out. He froze, buried deep, panting harshly against my back. "You little..."
I squeezed again, twisting slightly, feeling the vulnerable flesh in my grip. "Chhod de!" Let me go! I demanded, my voice trembling but fierce.
He stilled completely. A guttural groan escaped him. I could feel the desperate tension in him, the rigid control as he fought his own climax. I held him on that edge, the power intoxicating. Slowly, deliberately, I released my grip. He shuddered.
He started fucking me again, deep, punishing strokes from behind, his hand landing another hard slap on my other ass cheek. Each thrust jolted me forward. The pain was intense, but the fire he’d stoked earlier still smoldered. He hit a spot inside that made stars burst behind my eyelids. "Oh god... haan... woh jagah... phir se!" Yes... that spot... again! I moaned, pushing back against him, meeting his brutal rhythm.
He groaned, his pace becoming frantic, desperate. "Fuck... Saumya... shit..." His fingers dug bruisingly into my hips. I felt him swelling, pulsing, teetering.
Not yet. I clenched my inner muscles tightly around him, a vicious squeeze.
"NO!" The word was a strangled roar. He slammed into me, burying himself to the hilt, and froze again. Tremors wracked his powerful frame. Sweat dripped from his brow onto my back. He was panting, ragged breaths tearing from his lungs. "Fucking... stop... you witch..." he gasped, his voice thick with agony and need.
I held him there, clenched tight, feeling his cock throb helplessly inside me, trapped on the edge. His control was fraying. The mighty Vishal, reduced to trembling desperation. A wild, dark satisfaction flooded me. "Maang," I whispered, my voice hoarse but clear. "Maang mujhse." Beg me.
He groaned, a sound of pure torment. His forehead pressed hard between my shoulder blades. "Please..." The word was barely audible, ripped from him. "Saumya... please..."
"Kya maangta hai?" What do you want? I demanded, tightening again, feeling him twitch violently.
"Fuck..." He shuddered. "Let me... cum. Please... let me cum inside you." His voice was raw, stripped bare. "Deep inside... your perfect, tight little... pussy. Please."
The obscene English word, the sheer vulnerability in his plea, ignited me. I released the clench, relaxing around him. "Kar," I breathed. Do it.
He needed no further invitation. With a guttural cry that echoed off the lavish walls, he drove into me one final, brutal time, burying himself impossibly deep. I felt him pulse, then erupt, a hot, flooding rush deep inside me. His fingers dug into my flesh like claws as he came, his body shuddering violently against mine, his release seemingly endless.
He collapsed forward, his weight driving me down onto the sweat-soaked silk, his cock still lodged deep within me, pulsing with the last of his seed. His breath was a harsh rasp in my ear. The distant hum of the wedding celebration seemed impossibly far away. Silence, thick and heavy, filled the bridal suite, broken only by our ragged breathing. He lay slumped over me, a conqueror spent, but as his hand slid possessively over my belly, tracing the curve where his seed filled me, I knew the conquest wasn't over. Not by half. It had only just begun.