“Don’t you want to make me feel good?” he continued, ignoring her plea. He moved his hand, shoving the dress up to her waist before she could react. She moved to cover herself, but he caught her hands easily and maneuvered them behind her back.

“Look at you,” he said, and she glanced down.

Her dress was rucked to her waist, her bare pussy and slick thighs clearly visible. She still wore the cardigan, but it had slid down one shoulder, and her breasts were bared, the torn bodice hanging to her waist.

He tucked her wrists into one hand and brought the other up to cup her breast. He squeezed, pushing the nipple high, chuckling when it tightened even further.

“Please stop,” she whispered, and his eyes slid to hers. “I don’t want this.”

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered back, and leaned down to lick her nipple.

She shrank back, fighting the flood of sensation. His mouth was hot on her breast, his teeth sharp. “No. No.”

“I think you want to get fucked,” he said against her skin, the words hitting like slaps. “I think you need a hard cock in that needy little cunt so bad you can barely think.”

“Stop. Please stop.”

“I think if I stuck my cock in you right now, you’d go off like the fucking fourth of July.” He ground his pelvis against her, his thick cock hitting her clit just right, and she couldn’t prevent the sharp cry.

He lifted his head to grin at her, smug and mean. “The fucking fourth of July,” he repeated, and let go of her breast.

She began to struggle again when he dragged at his belt, worked his pants open and shoved his underwear down. His cock sprang free, hard and impossibly thick. He fisted it, squeezing hard, and a drop of thick fluid pearled at the tip.

“Yeah, you want this,” he said, ignoring her increasingly panicked struggles. He shoved his other leg between her knees so she straddled him, her toes barely touching the ground, and slapped the head of his cock against her clit.

It was heavy and hot, and the little droplets of pre-come that splashed on the bare skin of her mound felt like hot wax.

“No, no, no.” The lack of a condom sent her panic sky high, and she kicked out, trying to catch him with the high heels she still wore. His hand came up, a flash in the corner of her eye a split second before it made contact with her face.

The sharp pain had tears springing instantly to her eyes, and she cried out, unable to hold the sound back. She jerked her head around, her cheek throbbing as she stared at him.