Torn

Filtered light drifted thought the yellowed, gauzy curtain at the window, throwing shifting shadows against the sooty walls. Shadows that swam and flew across the walls, crawling onto the ceiling, which seemed very much like a silhouette of the demons he stalked for so long.

Constantine turned his dark eyes from the morphing shapes to the woman beside him. He reached to touch her, to trace a calloused finger along the smooth plains of her back. But, he didn’t dare, didn’t have the guts.

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s only going to hurt her. No, it’s going to kill her.

He grimaced at the all too true thoughts tumbling through his head. He had no right to be in this apartment, no right to be in this room, and especially not this bed. He had nothing to offer this being beside him. He belonged to another. He belonged to a purpose, a soul-stirring purpose.

Why did I come here again? What is it she has that draws me to her? Hell, what has women since Eve had that draws men to them?

“John?” The silky voice floated over him, raising goose bumps along his nude torso in its wake.

“Go back to sleep,” he told her without meeting her eyes. His body ached in all the old familiar places. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re not,” she refuted, a smirk lining her bowed lips. She knew she had him, that was apparent, and why wouldn’t she. This was almost a daily occurrence now. “At least this says you’re not.”

What the hell does she get out of this? She’s never…

“Oh God,” he uttered aloud as, fist her hand closed around him, and then was replaced by her supple lips. But, she quickly separated her lips from him and shook her head, her lips brushing across the head of his erection.

“This is no place for you to be bringing him up.”

“You take me too literally.”

He reached towards her downy head and pressed her back to his aching shaft. His fingers tangled in the locks to guide her in her ministrations. There were times that she liked him to be dominant, rough, almost violent, and other times she wanted to be the one to hurt him.

A heavy hiss tore from his throat as her fingernails drug along his flank, scratching long, bloody lines in his flesh, marking his ass.

Guess it’s her turn! But, shit, that’s not good!

He jerked her hair roughly then, shoving her head down on him, shoving his fully engorged cock fully into her until he could feel himself butting against the back of her throat. “You sure you want to do this now?”

He couldn’t make out her guttural mutters, but he knew the answer. He always knew the answer. “You’re going to regret it. You know that, right?”

Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!

He was sure he heard it inside his head. Had he imagined it or had she found her way into his mind or was he simply loosing it? It didn’t really matter either way while he fought the tight grip of pain as she drug her teeth along his cock.

“I don’t know that, John? You know that…” He didn’t give her time to finish. He shoved her onto her back and shifted astride her chest, pinning her arms to her side. He was at the perfect angle to enter her mouth without her claws shredding him.

“We can talk later. I need this now,” he confessed, nudging the wide, flared head of his dripping penis against her lips. He was rewarded with her smile just as her tongue slithered out to lick away the clear droplet of pre-ejaculate from his manhood.

He knew it was a lie and should be very careful about the lies he told her. She was vindictive and would have no compunction about exacting revenge on him. But, that thought was fleeting as her lips parted and he slid inside her warm, wet mouth. And he truly began to think he was ascending to heaven when she didn’t try to stop him from sliding into her throat. How could it feel anymore wonderful? He knew when her cheeks hollowed and she sucked as he began to move his hips.

Stop! Leave! Get out while you can!

Those words were common enough; they preceded every orgasm he had while using this woman’s body. Shoving his better sense aside, he increased his efforts, his hips pumping towards her face. And, to his amazement, she gave up her craving to hurt him. He felt her arm slither free from his imprisoning thighs and she lifted her hand and began to massage his ass, kneading the muscled cheeks and then insinuating her fingers into the separation. She teased him, stroking and pulling away, and each time she ran the length of his ass he bucked violently forward.

“Oh, please…Please…” To his horror, he was begging her and he gave into the idea that she had dominated him after all. It certainly hadn’t been in the painful way he expected, but she had all the same.
Again, her fingers glided across him and he bucked into the portal of her mouth, but this time her fingers didn’t retreat. A single digit pushed inside and he howled in pleasure, his head thrown back and his body working furiously. He was so close to exploding from her forbidden intrusion that tears of pained pleasure gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“More!” He shouted and was rewarded as her whole finger filled him, and then another joined it, sliding in and out of him, mimicking his cock in her mouth. It was then, with less than half a dozen of her wicked strokes, that he lost control. His voice was shrill and loud, certainly loud enough to knock plaster from the ceiling, as his orgasm ripped through him. The long streams of semen that left his pulsing shaft filled her mouth and flowed over him, leaving a thick trail from the corner of her mouth down along her jaw. Satisfaction was an understatement; it thrilled him to no ends to see his cum leaking from the corners of her mouth. With one last pump of his hips, he forced her to take more of his cream between her lips. Then he slumped over her head, leaning on his forearms against the wall above the bed. Her fingers still remained buried in his ass, they still moved in a slow rhythm and he loved it, even if his body couldn’t respond.

“Still leaving, John?”

“Yes. I’m not coming back.”

“You’re a liar. You say that every time you leave my bed. But here you are again in a day or two.”

“I mean it this time. I’m not coming back.” He leaned away from the wall and tossed his leg over her, staggering to the floor. He stared down at her, again wondering why he had to have this woman, this thing, this being.

“It’s her. You want the cop.”

“Yes, Gabriel, it's her I want. A real woman. Angela. And, don't you ever mention her name again.” He moved to close a hand around her, around its neck, and recoiled. The spell she or he, whatever it was, had over him seemingly had been broken. He no longer wanted to touch her in anyway, not in violence, and certainly not in lust.

“You’re jealous.” His laugh was a humorless sound. Dressing quickly he left her there withering on the bed in her own frustration and agony. She was human now and would have to learn what it was to denied her play thing.