Morbid Attraction

Her throat feels dry and hoarse. Rosé looks towards the door, left slightly ajar in the rush to get fucked, and she imagines someone's watching—imagines the man she keeps seeing around, the windswept dark hair, and even darker eyes. The stalker she noticed recently.
"Please," she slurs, eyes closing shut. Her mouth stays open for a garbled moan as David's cock drags over her walls, so thick and hot and so deep inside her. So deep it'll leave an ache she can't wash off. "Please, fuck—" she cries.
"Feel so good, baby." His thumbs draw little circles where her back dimples were, his digits fitting perfectly and he holds her tight as he begins to grind into her.
Rosé keeps her eyes closed and keeps imagining someone is watching her. The fantasy, spirals into something else—it's not David behind her anymore, it's someone else. She doesn't know his name. He's cooing praise in that soft voice, telling her how good she feels as he bullies his cock inside her, takes what he wants without asking, and fucks her till it hurts; Rosé is frozen in fear. She's so horny, it hurts.
At that moment, David holds her arms behind her back, pressing her down against the bed, and fucks into her with such vigor. Rosé moans. Screams. Sobs. Curses. Tries to balance herself on the bed, shivering and spasms as he abuses her insides.
Groaning, David huffs large puffs of air, skin sticky with sweat under his shirt as it falls over his face with his frantic movements. His body felt sweaty, sticky, and uncomfortable, but so worth every brutal thrust, watching as she shivered violently under him.
She desperately bites the sheets, back arching toward David. She sobs, tears wet and rolling down her pink cheeks, eyes red-rimmed and nearly puffy, bottom lip swollen and red and soaked with spit.
David moans embarrassingly loud, dropping her hands and shoving his face into the crook of her neck. That tight knot in his belly returns tenfold, knocking him closer and closer to the edge.
"Fuck— M' close, baby." He plants wet, open-mouthed kisses up the column of Rosé's throat. She clenches around him, breathing erratic, stuttered, frantic. She nods, whining. "Me too. Don't stop. Please, don't stop."
David grunts, adjusting her. He holds her down, planting his hands on her thighs, as he grabs the small of her waist, fucking down into her, angling her just right until it reduces her into a melting, moaning mess.
Everything is too much, too soon. Rosé takes everything beneath him, grinding and moaning. She's putting on a show for her stalker. He's watching her get fucked. It felt so obscene. She can't hold it back anymore.
She sees stars. An explosion hits the back of her eyelids and she moans, all high-pitched and whiny. "Holy shit," David says without slowing down. "Fuck, that's so hot."
She whimpers. In the fantasy, she tries to crawl away from the assault. Here, now, in his untidy bed, David is sweet, almost too sweet; he doesn't fuck Rosé into an overstimulated haze, but pulls out and jerks himself off until he comes all over her ass. Cum drips down her cheek. And she feels a lot more disappointed than she thought, coming back to reality.
She pushes down the feeling and turns her head back to look up at him. Her mouth curls into a little smile and she wriggles her ass. David spanks her lightly in amusement and grabs some tissues off his desk to wipe her clean. "There you go,"
"Thanks," she rolled over and laid down on the bed properly. "You can… go back downstairs. I'm a little drunk," He ruffles a hand through her hair, and drops a kiss to her forehead. "Sure," he says. "Text me if you need anything, okay?"
"Of course,' she says, smirking lightly. "Thanks for—you know. The good fuck," David snorts, and blushes, rolling his eyes at her. "Whatever,"
As he closes his door properly behind him, Rosé looks towards the window. It faces the street but from where she's lying she can't see outside. A thread of ice and excitement curls around her ribs at the thought. Her spine buzzes. There's no one out there, she tells herself. Or was there?