“It’s okay,” I whisper, squeezing my pelvic muscles around his thick length. “It’s okay, Peter… I can take it.”
I want to take it, in fact.
His pupils dilate, and in the depths of his metallic eyes, I see the monster surface. With a low, guttural growl, he surges deeper into me, and I cry out, arching, as he sets a savage rhythm.
He takes me violently, pounding into me without mercy, and my cries grow in volume as pain edges into pleasure, blanketing my mind with white noise, silencing the incessant buzzing of my thoughts. There’s no mental room for guilt or worry, no space for doubts and questions. There’s just this, just us, and as the tension inside me spirals, I scream out his name, cognizant of nothing but the agony and ecstasy splintering me apart.
He comes at nearly the same tim
