Chapter 164: The First Mark. (A Heart Divided)
I yanked her up by the hair mid-suck, my fingers twisting deep into the dark strands with a sharp, unyielding tug that pulled her mouth off me in one brutal motion.
The wet pop of her mouth leaving my cock was loud and obscene in the flickering dark, echoing between the shadowed walls. Thick strands of saliva and precum stretched between her swollen, glistening lips and the angry-red, veined head of my cock like glistening webs of sin before they snapped, leaving a messy trail dripping down her chin.
Carrise’s eyes widened, but not with fear, with raw, open want, her pupils blown wide in the dancing blue-silver light from the muted television. She thought this was passion. I knew it was punishment, a cruel redirection of the storm tearing through my chest.
Guilt crashed over me like broken glass, shards of ice slicing through my veins and tightening every muscle in my body with a sudden, visceral chill that made my breath catch sharply.
I shoved her backward into the sofa with forceful hands. She landed with a soft gasp, her body bouncing slightly against the cushions, legs splayed wide in helpless invitation, nightdress rucked up uselessly around her waist. Her soaked pussy shone obscenely in the flickering blue-silver glow, swollen folds slick and puffy, catching the light like wet silk. Her chest heaved, full breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath.
Her eyes stayed locked on mine, that same trusting hunger burning in them—warm, feverish, and achingly genuine, like she was offering her soul without reservation.
I didn’t give her time to breathe.
My hands tore the thin nightdress down the front in one violent rip. The fabric shredded with a sharp, tearing sound that split the air, threads snapping one by one as cool air rushed over her exposed skin. Full breasts bounced free, heavy and soft, nipples tightening further in the shifting light. Her smooth stomach quivered, the slick, puffy mess between her thighs glistening wetly. I grabbed her thighs, my fingers digging deep into the warm, trembling flesh, wrenching them wide apart until the muscles strained and her hips tilted up in surrender. Then I drove into her in one brutal thrust.
No gentleness. No buildup. I slammed to the hilt in a single, punishing stroke.
Her tight cunt stretched around my thick cock with a wet, obscene squelch, the scorching heat of her walls enveloping every inch in a vice of feverish, fluttering silk. Carrise’s back arched violently off the sofa, a sharp, broken cry tearing from her throat—raw and helpless—as her walls clenched hard around the sudden invasion. The physiological shock rippled through her: a full-body tremor, her thighs quaking against my grip, her breath stuttering in shallow, needy gasps. I was inside a vampire now, buried in that impossible, living heat.
I didn’t stop.
I fucked her like I was trying to punish the guilt out of my own body, deep, heavy, savage strokes that made the sofa scrape backward across the floor with every brutal snap of my hips, wood groaning against wood.
Each thrust bottomed out hard, my pelvis slamming against her clit with a wet smack, balls slapping wetly against her ass in rhythmic, filthy impacts. The sounds were obscene and all-consuming: the loud, slick drag of her soaked pussy gripping and releasing me, the rhythmic smack of sweat-slick skin on skin, her broken gasps turning into raw, helpless moans that vibrated through her chest.
"Harder—!" she cried, her voice cracking with desperate need, nails raking bloody lines down my back in stinging trails of fire. Her legs locked tight around my waist, heels digging into my lower back like she was afraid I’d stop, pulling me deeper.
Her body surrendered completely, cunt pulsing hot and greedy around every violent inch, real pleasure twisting her flushed face, real connection shining in her wide, dark eyes.
Sherry took control of my mind as I moved, the memory slicing through the heat like cold steel.
I remembered the first time I saw her at CGI, before the gate, before any of it—the sharp, electric pull of her presence. The long drive to Hogsby when she wouldn’t speak to me, sitting in silence the whole way, the faint artificial sweetness of her nearness lingering. The way she let her head find my shoulder on the back seat like it had always belonged there, her shorter hair brushing my neck with a cool tickle. The hole in the wall at Hogsby that she had known about the entire time. Her hand in mine without it ever being a declaration, firm and sure. The first kiss in a corridor that she walked away from like nothing had happened. Her telling me on the plain, outside the Fallen City, that she wanted more than friends. When we get back to the walls. Let’s take a step further.
Her tackling me into the sand when she found me alive. Saying she loved me with her legs wrapped around me and meaning it. Everything she could miss was with her, she had said.
And tonight she had stood in her open doorway and asked me why I was in a rush, the ghost of her sweetness still on my tongue.
I snarled and fucked Carrise harder, pounding into her with savage force that made her full breasts bounce wildly with every thrust, the blue-silver light tracing glistening paths of sweat across her skin. I gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, fingers sinking into soft, yielding flesh, yanking her down onto my cock to meet every brutal drive. Sweat slicked our bodies, her juices coating my shaft in hot, slippery rivulets that dripped down to soak the sofa beneath her with every wet slap.
The guilt only made me meaner, a physical hardening in my chest and a colder edge to my grip that left faint red imprints on her warm skin.
I leaned over her, one hand braced on the back of the sofa with white-knuckled force, the other tangled in her dark hair, pulling just enough to arch her neck, and railed her like I could fuck the memory of Sherry out of my skull. Deeper. Harder. Faster. The friction was scorching, her walls fluttering and squeezing with every stroke as another orgasm built violently inside her, her body responding with helpless, genuine surrender—soft, needy whimpers and feverish heat contrasting the sharp, electric edges haunting me.
She came hard.
Her body seized beneath me, cunt clamping down like a vice, pulsing in strong, rhythmic waves that milked my cock with wet, rhythmic contractions. Her scream was raw, broken, genuine, echoing in the room as her back bowed sharply, nails digging bloody lines down my back while she shook and sobbed through it, thighs quaking violently around my hips.
She gave up, her body turning fully vampire—fangs flashing in the flickering light, eyes glowing faintly—but I didn’t slow down, the sight only fueling the cold storm inside me.
I fucked her straight through it, chasing my own oblivion, using the tight, fluttering heat of her body to drown everything else. The system flashed again, cold and mechanical, a fresh wave of guilt tightening my throat like frost.
[Objective Progress: Carrise Vale - 94%]
The words burned like acid. I buried myself to the hilt and came with a guttural groan, thick ropes of cum flooding deep inside her as pleasure ripped through me like violence—hot, pulsing jets that filled her completely. My hips kept jerking, grinding, pushing every drop as far as it would go while her cunt kept milking me through the aftershocks in greedy, fluttering pulls.
Carrise clung to me, trembling, face buried against my neck like she wanted to bite me but was too helpless, her warm breath damp and ragged against my skin, soft sounds of spent pleasure vibrating into me.
I poured into her, the cum wouldn’t stop, flooding her until it started leaking out around my cock with every shallow thrust, warm and slick, mixing with her own arousal and dripping down.
She shook beneath me, trembling like she was having a seizure, every muscle quivering in the aftermath of overwhelming sensation.
[1/10 Marked]
[9 remaining]
[3 of 9 are sources]
I stayed buried inside her, breathing ragged, jaw clenched so tight it ached, the muscles in my neck corded with tension. The ghost of Sherry’s kiss still lingered on my tongue—sharper, sweeter, more electric—than anything Carrise’s cold body could give me.
And the worst part was how badly I still wanted to keep fucking her anyway, just to stop feeling it, to drown the guilt and the memories in her feverish, trusting heat for a little while longer.
