Page 37 of Retribution
“It’s gonna get better, sweetheart. Fuck, you look hot as hell, you know that?” His lips and tongue slid down her spine, and she cried out in pleasure when one of his hands tugged her nipple as he kept slamming his dick into her heat.
Then his finger slid down her belly to her throbbing clit and tapped it—hard.
“Shit!” she cried.
Another tap. A slap. Then another.
The most intense currents of pleasure sizzled through her, and she writhed and wiggled while shoving her ass back at him.
“Fuck, darlin’,” Cobra said as he kept up the relentless pounding.
“Faster!” she cried.
The slap of naked skin against naked skin, the scent of sweat and passion, and guttural moans filled the room.
When he gently stroked the side of her hardened nub then pinched it, pleasure splashed over her, blocking out all sound, until there was nothing but the explosion of sensations—deep and primal, as her screams echoed in the room.
Dakota was barely aware of the feather-light kisses caressing her back, or the steely arms nestling her then lying her down on the bed. Her limbs were rubber, her body hummed in satisfaction, and a delicious purr of delight still tickled deep in her pussy. It was only when the mattress sagged next to her that the wispy haze of ecstasy slowly dissipated. She rolled over on her side and met the tranquil gaze of Cobra.
“How are you?” she asked tentatively. Her orgasm had been so intense, so unlike anything she had ever experienced, that she’d been transported away, forgetting about him. Dakota didn’t even know if he’d climaxed, but assumed that he had.
“Real good, darlin’.” He bent down and brushed his lips across hers. “You?”
“Oh, yeah. It was incredible.”
He squeezed her lightly, then drew her closer to him. “I mean with us doing it.”
“Of course … yeah.” She pillowed her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“That’s good.” He kissed the top of her head.
For a long while they lay there, legs tangled, arms entwined, bodies fused. The only sound in the room was the hum of the air conditioner until Cobra’s light snores competed with it. Dakota carefully moved his arm from hers then slid off the bed and padded to the bathroom.
The fluorescent light hummed above, creating shadows to Dakota’s eyes, nose, and chin. She wondered whoever thought this type of lighting was a good idea for a bathroom. Turning away, she reached over and grabbed one of the bath towels, then drew the shower curtains open, and turned on the water. The mildly hot water beat down on her skin and she tilted her head back and let the water wet her hair.
Dakota had never imagined having sex could be so intense and emotional. She peeled the paper wrapping around the soap. It wasn’t Cobra’s sexual expertise that surprised her, it was the way she reacted to it. It was like she was looking down from above at another person as the passion and lust exploded inside her. And she’d actually cuddled next to him afterward, and … she didn’t feel dirty or cheap.
The scent of jasmine and citrus curled around her as she scrubbed the lather over her skin.How did he do it?Each time she’d had sex with a man, she was detached, and afterward she’d feel used and soiled, even if she had an orgasm. But with Cobra, it had been what Dakota had always thought sex should be, but all that was destroyed by one single night.
Don’t go there. Don’t think of it and ruin tonight.
But it was too late. The room grew smaller and the steam cleared, and instead of seeing the white tiles in the shower, she saw the colored lights strewn around colorful tents, and children laughing and pushing each other as they raced off to the rides. The smell of buttery popcorn and fried onions replaced the soap’s scent, and Dakota was back at the carnival in Pocatello on a crisp early September night. How excited she’d been to go that night. Silly, romantic notions filled her head as she waited for her date to pick her up, three blocks from her house.
“I thought we were going to have such fun,” she muttered.
The images sharpened as the memory of that night filled her mind.
The roar of the roller coaster tore into her brain, taking away all her instincts to protect and guard herself, throwing her life into a loop. There was nothing but shifting tracks. Screams. Her small whimpers while he grunted on top of her; his weight driving her into the dirt underneath. Each shift forward dug her deeper into the ground until she imagined she would be engulfed by it. Maybe become one of the worms.
His breath was hot and stank of soda, and his sticky fingers pinned her wrists to the ground. The rough scrape of his jeans against her inner thighs: that little detail made hot tears trickle down her face. He hadn’t even taken his pants off. She was that unimportant while he drove into her over and over again.
Before, the pain had been sharp, immediate, eating her alive from the inside out.
Now there was nothing, only echoes of emotions, sound, and who she was before this moment—who she would never be again.
When Dakota came back to herself, she was sitting on the edge of the bed with a towel wrapped around her and Cobra’s cut in her lap, slowly stroking the leather over and over again. An odd sensory comfort as tears poured out of her eyes, but she didn’t feel them inside, only knew they were coming because of the constant splash against her skin.
“Dakota?”
