Hard Way by Katie Porter

only added to Dash’s arousal. Sordid and sexy.
    “I take. And you shut up. That’s how this works.”
    The sound of his zipper was like a shotgun blast, so far out in the desert. Only their breathing was louder. His, tight and controlled. Hers, a rasping pant.
    No warning, Dash shoved three fingers in her cunt. She screamed. Dash palmed her mouth. Those screams were muffled now. Helpless now. She was so slick, her arousal dripping down her thighs. He covered his fingers in her juices, then leaned flush against her bowed body.
    “You’re a lying whore. Protests and whining and struggles. Your body is giving you away.”
    He smeared those three fingers over her face, daring to let go of her mouth long enough to paint her lips with her taste. She tried to bite him. Had his reflexes been any slower, she’d have taken off a knuckle.
    She needed to be punished, the stubborn bitch. Dash straightened. Fast, harsh, he slapped her ass, over and over, until he couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t stop shrieking against his palm.
    Then his cock was inside her. He loved that. No warning. No sweet seduction of her clit and her pussy. Just using .
    Her outraged gasp throttled down to a moan. Her legs bound at the knees made shoving into her more of a challenge. She was tighter that way. Clenched. Fighting him even there. Dash spread his legs to bracket hers. Thrusts lifted her hips from the edge of the trunk. He bucked into her, using his knees to dig the whole of his weight and power into her slick cunt.
    More slaps. A counterpoint to the rhythm of his hips. More growled curses mixed with moans from Sunny.
    But he needed more. He needed her screams.
    Last zip tie. He wrenched her arms up from behind her back, then secured her to the cross bar where the trunk met the rear window. Her feet lifted off the ground and wrapped around the back of his thighs, probably to ease the pressure on her shoulders.
    He surged inside her again and fanned his fingers between her shoulders blades. The pressure he applied pulled her restraints to the extreme. With his other hand, he bowed her neck and forehead down. Sunny struggled against the many places he held her trapped, but that struggle felt more like fucking. Her ass reared back to meet his every thrust.
    “Goddamn hogtied bitch,” he rasped. Dizzy. Losing it. Yet he’d never been so focused. “Look at you, loving every stroke.”
    “I might as well, you shit.”
    Her hair was the tether he needed. He wrapped both hands through that thick silken mass and rode her. She screeched as she arched back toward the rear of the trunk. Her body became his toy. Any way he wanted to pull her, tug her, fuck her, she was his.
    But she was the one who came first. She spit his name like a curse, then shuddered on a long, satisfied moan.
    He loved that sound. Always had. When Sunny came, she did so with as much abandon as when she cussed a blue streak. No one would ever know that about her other than Dash.
    This was different. Tonight was different.
    She wasn’t getting out of this without feeling completely used. He would use her.
    “Did you come?” Although it took control and all the fierce meanness in his blood, he slipped free of her pulsating sheath. He shook her head, yanked her hair from side to side. “Answer me, Mrs. Christiansen. Did you like being treated like a piece of trash?”
    Her face was flushed and sweaty. Tresses that had been perfectly coiffed were a sticky mess at her temples and nape. “Piss off.”
    Dash should’ve been pleased with how much she enjoyed it. Their marriage was failing. They needed a buoy. A rescue. Apparently acting out sick, taboo fantasies was something they never knew they had in common.
    But he wasn’t in the mood. Sunny had come first.
    “Greedy bitch. It’s gonna get rough now.”
    “Rough? I’m going to be bruised all to hell tomorrow. People will notice.”
    From a pocket in his boot, he drew out a utility knife and cut the ties except for the ones