Chapter 381: Dying Inside Sophia.

I pushed back into her in one long stroke.

Her legs were folded high — knees driven back toward her shoulders, thighs pressed against her own ribs, the position opening her completely and costing her every breath.

I felt the strain in her from the inside. The angle made her cunt tighter, the slide deeper, my cock dragging along the front wall of her with every thrust where the pressure was worst.

The metal frame ticked under my knees. Above her head the rope still held, raw skin dark against the fibres.

She made a sound on the first stroke that was half groan and half fight.

I fucked her through the mess of us.

Deep. Steady. Each thrust pushed my own cum back into her before it could run out, the wet sound of it thick in the cell.

Her breasts were pushed up by the fold of her body, moving in short hard jolts when my hips met hers. Her mouth stayed open. Every exhale came out broken.

This hurts—

God, the kid is ripping me apart—

He's so deep I can't think —

I can't let it break — I can't —

Her hips tried to answer me despite the fold — small helpless pushes against the weight of her own legs. Then the answering died.

Her pelvis went still and started to tremble, a fine continuous shake that ran up through her stomach into her chest.

The muscles low in her belly jumped once and locked. Around my cock her cunt fluttered in tight panicked spasms, not pulling me deeper, trying to close against the thing rising inside her.

The position made it worse for her.

Folded open like that she had nowhere to put the pressure. Every stroke hit the same place and stayed there.

I felt the pressure stacking around my cock — a rising fullness, heavy, inevitable — and felt her try to twist away from it even though the angle gave her nothing.

Her wrists wrenched. The metal headboard rang.

No —

Not like this — not while I'm open like this —

I can feel it starting... oh God I can feel it—

It's... coming.

A raw sound tore out of her. Not my name. Not a word. The sound of someone losing ground.

I kept going.

I could feel how close she was from the inside — the way her walls started to seize in longer pulses, the way the tremor in her thighs became a violent shake against my hands, the way her breath cut to short desperate pulls through her teeth.

My own body was answering despite everything. The tight heat of her around my cock, the wet sound of every thrust, the sight of her folded and shaking under the hard light — it fed the ache in me even as her thoughts turned to pure panic.

Stop—

Get off me... get off—

"Uhhhhh."

I'm... dying. It's ripping me apart.

"Sophia."

I didn't slow down. The system still wanted her release and her body was a few breaths from giving it.

Her eyes flew open, black at the edges already, fixed on nothing. Her jaw locked. A snarl built in her throat and broke into a helpless moan when the next thrust landed deep.

Her whole body went slack in the fold.

Arms hanging dead in the rope. Head rolling to the side on the sheet. Mouth open. Eyes half-shut and empty.

For a moment she was lifeless under me — no fight, no tremble, no answering push — as if she had blacked out at the exact edge of the climax she had been trying to reach.

Only her cunt still moved, fluttering open around my cock in the first helpless waves of what was about to break.

I didn't stop.

"Stay with me."

My voice came out rough. I held her legs where they were and drove into her harder.

"You're about to... Sophia."

I increased the pace.

The wet slap of my hips against her filled the cell. Deep, relentless strokes into a body that had gone soft and open and almost absent, the river cresting so hard I felt her start to open around me from the inside out.

Her breasts jolted with every thrust. The metal frame ticked in a fast uneven rhythm under my knees. Her thoughts were gone — no language, only a white rising edge —

"Ahhhh—" A sound tore out of her. Raw. Dragged up from somewhere deep.

Her back tore off the mattress so hard the frame shrieked against the stone.

Both arms exploded forward. The rope snapped — a wet percussive rip of fibres, the broken ends lashing the air, the metal headboard screaming as the tension released.

Her legs kicked free of my hands with a force that drove the air out of my chest. Her face finished changing in the same heartbeat: eyes full black, fangs dropping long and wet, lips peeled back off them in a snarl that had nothing left of the woman who had asked me to make her come.

She lunged for my throat.

I held her thighs.

Folded her harder — knees crushed toward her shoulders, the angle vicious, impossible, keeping my cock buried to the hilt inside her as her mouth reached my neck.

Teeth punched through skin on the first strike. Deep. Locking. The pain was white and total.

I heard the wet sound of my own blood starting as her jaw clamped and she pulled.

I felt the hitch of it — heat running out of the wound into her mouth, her throat working in long swallowing pulls, a low animal growl vibrating against my skin with every suck.

My vision narrowed at the edges. My hands stayed locked on her thighs, holding the fold, holding the depth, keeping her cunt stretched around my cock while she tried to empty me.

The knowledge landed cold and clear.

If she came, the fire would break and the thing on top of me might become Sophia again. If she didn't, she would drain me until there was nothing left.

She's out of control.

The river was still stacked inside her, unfinished, screaming through the same body that was drinking my blood, and the only way out was through the climax she was trying to murder.

I held her there.

Thighs pinned. Cock buried. Blood running hot into her mouth while the metal frame ticked beneath us and her fingers punched into my back and the denied orgasm shook through her in violent unfinished waves —

—and I did not let go.