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XI
“P–please. . . I'm s–s–sorry. . . I–it hurts,” the brunette whimpered as hot tears chased each other down her face profusely but he didn't stop, his movements didn't waver one bit. He didn't care. He didn't want to care.
“I–I'm r–really so—”
“Shut the fuck up!” his stentorian voice thundered round the dark room, bouncing off the walls, leaving her to only let out whimpers of agony as her face grew paler with each of his merciless pounding movements inside her.
The agonising images passed through his subconscious, teasing him with their pernicious contents. He remembered everything.
He remembered how he had watched her strut into the club with her majestic yet refined gait which exuded confidence. He remembered how he had successfully yet painfully inhibited his strong urge to gouge out the eyes of the men that dared to let their gazes linger on his gemstone.
He remembered the ephemeral express
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