Predator

13

The bath was on the second floor. Liam took heavy steps, his dxxk thrusting deeply with each step, making Amelia tense up. She clung to him, not daring to move, fearing his growing arousal.

Finally, they reached the public bath. Water splashed on the floor, and Amelia buried her face, pretending to be dead. Suddenly, her chin was gripped.

"Look up."

In the dimly lit corridor, three basins were lined up under a large, grimy mirror. Even through the dirt, she could see herself—bruised, held in Liam's arms, his large dxxk still inside her.

"Look at how much there is."

Liam's hoarse voice commanded her. He withdrew sharply, covering her mouth to muffle her scream. The diluted cum poured out, filling the basin with a loud splashing sound for three minutes straight.

It was thick and copious.

Satisfied, Liam stepped into the bath, holding her. The old steel shower pipes looked grimy. Amelia reached for the hot water knob, but Liam slapped her hand away. "It's hot."

Ignoring his own advice, he twisted the knob, releasing a scalding stream that hit them both. The temperature was high, and Amelia shrank from the heat.

This was expected. Kenya, one of the world's most water-scarce countries, rationed water, making showers a luxury.

"Stand on my feet," Liam ordered, not letting her touch the ground. "It's dirty."

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Any woman treated like this would harbor hatred.

Like a lioness pinned down by a lion twice her size, biting her neck and forcing his barbed reproductive organ into her uterus, the pain would make her furious and she would fight back, her sharp teeth sinking into his invading neck.

Liam's hand caressed Amelia's neck, his fingers pausing at her throat, while his movements grew increasingly aggressive. After hundreds of thrusts, his swollen head, feeling like it was filled with blood, released a thick load of semen in the crevice of her buttocks.

He scooped up water to wash her, his erratic, heavy breaths loud in her ear.

"You need to stay by my side every day. If you ever get the chance to kill me, I'll let you go."

Amelia's unfocused eyes finally found their mark, fixing on the wound she'd inflicted on his chest.

Madmen like him never cared about such flesh wounds, letting them bloat under the hot water, the flesh turning outward.

Just as he always stood high above, bestowing suffering at will and casually brushing off life and death.

Amelia's eyes reddened with anger. She bit down on the wound, tasting blood but refusing to let go. Her face pressed against the pulsing area, wishing she could devour his flesh and tear out his dark, twisted heart.

"I will kill you," she vowed.