Free Princely Bastard by K. H. Alynn

howl. I howl this so loud that the whole fucking motel must hear it—and half of Los Angeles, too. “Aimee!”
    Faster and faster, she moves up and down me—impossibly fast. Not even that guy’s hands and feet this morning were moving like her. She sending me way past crazy, and I almost lose it.
    Though at the last second I pull away. Barely.
    “Do it,” she begs. “It’s okay.”
    “No!” I scream at her. “It’s not okay!”
    Not waiting for a reply, I reach under her arms and lift her into the air—and I throw both myself and her against the nearest wall.
    The whole thing shakes—the entire building. And I shake, too, as she guides me inside her. Then I cry out in agony as I slowly push myself into her, inch-by inch, with her cries even louder than mine.
    “Fuck!” she hollers when I can’t push anymore. “Fuck!” She also wraps her legs around me and pulls me somehow deeper into her. She pulls me until I can feel her bones pressed against mine.
    I want to come. I want to come right now. But I don’t. Instead I grab her thighs and start forcing her up and down me, with both our bodies spasming.
    We start moving as well—and banging into things. The TV falls and smashes onto the floor—and so does a table. Still we keep moving—into wall after wall.
    Suddenly, for some reason she grabs hold of something—the shades, and she rips them off the window as I swing her into the door, where I start pounding her. I pound her so hard that the door seems like it’s coming off its hinges.
    “Harder!” she screams, even though I must be hurting her. “Harder!”
    “I can’t!” I tell her, but I do what she wants, and I can hear the wood crack.
    “Almost!” she calls out. “Almost!”
    Shrieking, I grab her flesh and slam into her with everything I have left—and she shudders and shakes—setting me off. I explode inside her over and over, before collapsing onto my knees, knocking over both the end table and a lamp.
    Afterward, with everything spent, I just hold her, while caressing her body—her back and legs and hair. I’m touching her everywhere at once.
    “Aimee,” I whisper into her ear while chewing on it. “Aimee.”
    She doesn’t say a word back. She just flings me against the carpet, and my head knocks against the floor. Then she starts bucking on top of me. She also digs her nails into my chest. She digs them so hard that blood seeps out. But I don’t care. I don’t want her to stop. I want her to dig deeper. I want her to rip me apart.
    Faster and faster, she pistons on me—to the point that she’s nothing but a blur. I can’t see—all I can do is feel. I feel her destroying me.
    Again, she comes—and she pounds her fists onto my chest. She pounds them so hard I can’t breathe. But I don’t care. I don’t care!
    Finally, she falls on top of me—and I put my arms around her. And she clasps my head. She also kisses me. She kisses me while biting down on my lip.
    WE’RE IN THE shower—the two of us, with burning hot water pouring down onto our tattered flesh.
    Once more I’m inside her—with her legs draped around my waist and her back against the wall. Though this time we’re barely moving. And I realize I can’t get enough of her and know I never will. I want to stay right where I am, where it’s safe—I want to escape in her.
    I even try telling her these things, but the words just won’t come out. She can’t talk, either. We’re just making sounds—sounds that aren’t even close to human.
    But she understands me. Somehow I know she does.
    I AWAKE FROM a sudden burst of light.
    And I sense I’m lying on top of the bed, with Aimee lying next to me. I further sense that the same gray-haired guy who tried to kill me this morning is smiling down at us—holding the same gun he pointed at me earlier.
    “Sorry to disturb you, Your Highness,” he jokes, in that accent of his—which causes Aimee to groggily wake.
    “What?” she mumbles, while trying to cover