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I fight, I bite, and I even attempt to slap him. But he’s fast with quick reflexes and grabs and pins down every one of my moves on the mattress. Something ignites between us so hot we’re almost engulfed in flames, releasing teen Emma and her pent-up fury. I yank his shirt over his head; he follows suit, yanking mine off and ripping my underwear free. I must sink my teeth into my bottom lip to quell the urge to moan.
He flips me over on the bed, grabbing my wrists and splaying me out star-shaped beneath him, my face buried in the pillows as his weight moves up behind me. His pants grinding against my ass heavily, he bites and kisses my exposed shoulders roughly, holding me down. Using his foot to kick my legs apart, he nestles between them. I can feel every part of him against my ass, and the effect causes a rush of warmth and excitement to surge through me. I fight and squirm, but I’m so powerfully held that I can do nothing but lie flat.
“I’m going to fuck you anyway I want, baby.” His hoarse growl is nothing like any Jake I’ve ever known, and it sends a thrill through me. I can barely breathe, held this way, my legs forced open by his body, his weight crushing me and his grip merciless on my wrists. All I have is extreme desire and hunger, an overpowering ache, but I won’t succumb.
I want this. Some crazy internal need to be forced.
Old Chicago Emma is being allowed freedom for the first time without consequence, a part of me I never wanted him to see, and he’s almost goading her out to meet him. I try to buck him off, but he pushes me down, a hand coming to my neck and holding me from behind, fingers firm and constricting. He grinds into me some more, increasing the force with every one of my muffled cries into the pillows. My rage is pulsing from me, but it only serves to increase how turned on I am. Jake has never been this way with me; even when consumed by lust, there’s always an element of gentleness, a feeling that I’m always safe with him. Tonight, it’s gone. He’s primal and aggressive, and it pushes me beyond control. He’s drunk and wired from fighting, pushed on by my mood, and I want this more than anything I have ever needed. I need this release.
He lets go of my hand and neck, his body moving back off me a little. I can feel him maneuvering his pants off, wriggling about behind me. His face is still close to the back of my head, so I reach back with one free hand and tug his hair. Catching all I can, I struggle to tangle my fingers in its shortness but manage enough. I pull at it again, satisfied as he comes down to bite me on the shoulder, not enough to draw blood but enough to sting. I buck and lift my legs to kick, but it’s futile. It just enrages me.
Moving back, he yanks his hair away and smacks me hard on my bare ass, causing a sting and then a wave of heated warmth. I yelp in surprise; my first instinct is to feel outraged, maybe even upset by his ruthlessly hitting me. I bite down the reaction and push my butt back hard so I collide with his now naked groin, eliciting a satisfactory grunt from him. His hand grips my hips hard, fingers biting into my skin, pulling me back to him with a thrust. I can feel all of him; he’s fully aroused, and the tension only seems to be getting thicker around us.
Bent over like this, resting on my elbows, my face still in the pillows, I feel vulnerable. I’ve gotten myself into a position where he can do anything to me, and I can’t do anything in defense. He seems to realize this too; his hands come to my waist and pull me back further so my knees are bent below me. He enters me roughly, with no foreplay and soft touches, only the wetness of my earlier arousal from what we’ve been doing to ease his entry. He isn’t gentle; he thrusts in hard, and I yelp again in surprise at the movement. My head jerks further into the cushions, and I claw at his hands.
Yessss!
I start moaning out as he begins thrusting hard into me. I want to fight, but I also want to grind into him, making his penetration harder. He feels better than good, and the tiny stars going off inside of me already are a sign of just how turned on I am. I’m practically unraveling without any effort from him. He grabs my hair, yanking my head back so my chin lifts from the pillows, his other hand pressing between my shoulders, holding me down to the bed so I can’t raise up from my chest. He’s got me under complete control, and even though the waves of pleasure are already coursing through me, that inner instinct to fight back surges out, and I start to resist him.
Using my hands to reach back and try to grab his arm and hand on my back, I claw at him, hitching onto anything to give me a fighting chance. I’m struggling and twisting as his thrusts get harder and more relentless. He grunts and groans in a way he never has before, and I moan out too. His heavy weight crushes me, his hold biting into my skin and his grip tightening cruelly, but I want it harder. Unable to control the first waves of orgasm, my body starts to tighten. He bends forward over me to put more pressure on me, changing his angle and pushing into me further. I cry out, giving up the fight, my fingers clutching the sheets below me instead while I pant in ecstasy.
I can’t let go and lose control and let him win easily. I need more.
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