Maya’s Fire (Ch. 2)

The next morning, right before Maya woke up, she knew exactly where she was. She couldn’t even fantasize that it had all been a dream. The year she spent living in freedom seemed like a figment of her imagination.

Henry was sleeping beside her, soundlessly. His right arm was outstretched under her pillow and his left was wrapped around her like a vice. He hadn’t left her alone all night. He had followed her into the shower, pushed her up against the wall and fucked her almost tenderly. It was eerie, considering only minutes before he was gripping her slender neck in his hands and calling her a slut. When he was finished, he simply left; there was no kiss, there were no words, but she could still feel his body against hers. Her shoulder and neck were raw from his stubble and teeth. Even when he was gentle, even when he remembered he loved her, he still caused her pain. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her glistening body.

She opened the bathroom door and he was in her face. She let out a light scream. She’d forgotten how he loved the element of surprise. He grabbed her and threw her to the ground. She tried to break her fall with her hands but he was already pressing against her from behind. Her breasts scraped against the carpet. She felt him grab a handful of hair on the back of her head and crush her face into the rug as he thrust into her, slamming into her with an angry force. The realization that he had been able to enter her much too easily, that he must have lubed himself in preparation, came a split second before he slipped into her ass. Her back arched and she cried out in pain.

The tightness was exquisite; he was only a few inches in but he already felt he wouldn’t be able to last another second. Her anguished moans weren’t helping either; usually her outcries of torture helped suspend his orgasm because he loved to hear her visceral suffering and didn’t want her to stop, or shift to the whimpering that came when he was finished.