Page 36 of Two Wrongs
Her essence and cum coat my lips and chin as she crests again, riding my face. I suck her clit between my lips and lap with a flattened tongue—on and on until she begins to mewl, her hands in my hair like she’s not sure if she wants me to back off or push her further—harder. Devour her. Not that it matters; it isn’t her decision to make because I keep her there, balanced on that knife’s edge of too much yet not enough, on the dividing line between pleasure and pain. My arm across her stomach, I keep her weighted against the bed, eating her out until her mewls turn to curses.
‘Fuck. No. Fuck me.’ Her hands claw my shoulder and push at my head, her thighs twitching around my fucking face.
‘Not yet, baby. I’m not done eating this pussy.’
I grab her hands. Pulling them to her stomach, I pin them in one of mine. I bury myself between her thighs, my tongue working her clit and my fingers stroking deep inside.
‘Enough! Please, it’s too much. Please, no. Dylan, stop!’
But I won’t. Not until her legs shake like Jell-O—not until her stomach quivers under our joined hands.
‘Oh, God. Oh, God.’ She chants a litany as I push her over the edge, her body welcoming the inevitable and pushing up against me until she’s utterly spent. Her movements become more gentle without changing the tone, the gentle undulations of her body still riding my face and hand.
Her eyes are glazed; her body spent as I pull my fingers from between her legs. Pushing up onto my knees, I lick her taste from my lips and stare down at her, taking a snapshot of this moment for posterity. My dick might be rock hard, but my heart is also heavy. We’ll never have this again; I don’t deserve it, and she’s too strong to be suckered into a repeat.
Her body jolts as my hand drifts between her legs, my thumb caressing her sensitized flesh. Like a magnet, I bring my thumb to my mouth, watching as her eyes flare like it’s the most sexual thing she’s seen. Lips softly parted, she lets out a quiet moan; her gaze glued to mine and utterly unguarded. At this moment, I could convince myself she still loved me. Almost.
As though reading my mind, her lids shutter closed, and she sighs again. Only this time, it sounds more like heartbreak. A better man would get off the bed and leave before causing any more hurt. He wouldn’t lie down beside her and take her full, lush breast in his hand. I groan as my mouth engulfs one pink tip, her nipple stiffening to my tongue. I tell myself I can’t stop now—the point of no return has long since passed—especially as she whispers my name, her hand cupping my head.
It’s a tender moment.
Loving.
Hurtful.
Not enough.
Her fingers trail across my chest, branding my skin with the small points of contact. Because that’s how I feel—burned. I can’t take it, so I press her hand to the bed and work my way up her body, tasting her creamy flesh until we’re face to face. I’m angry again. With myself. With her. And as she tilts her head for a kiss, I pull back, suddenly hating her soft, full lips—the source of her lies—but mostly, I hate myself. I have her under me by misdeed. She left me for a reason I can’t fathom, beyond a lack of love. What kind of sick fuck am I to crave her attentions still? She might be back—she might be under me—but not because she wants to be. Sure, she’s turned on, but that’s animal. Visceral. Not what she wants or what she needs.
I’m a monster. A fucking troll. A better man would leave. Apologise. Instead, I evade her lips, grab her hip, and roll her unceremoniously across the bed.
‘Ivy, Ivy, Ivy.’ I can barely hear myself murmuring her name over and over again, words that are soft but not kind. She lands on her stomach, the mass of her hair obscuring her face. Not that I’m looking as I climb over her and rip the remains of her panties from her legs.
I kiss her shoulder. Bite it. Make her cry out. Rub the length of my dick against her ass cleft. Run the roughness of my chin down her spine.
‘Get up.’ My words are soft as I thread my arm beneath her waist. Soft but full of contempt. ‘Get on your knees like the good girl you pretend you are.’ Pulling her up from the bed, white-hot need burns under my skin, and it’s not all about sex. It’s about power and need; the manic desire to break her apart with my bare hands. To conquer. To possess.
‘That’s it; spread your fucking legs.’ Before she can, I spread her ass cheeks with hard fingers and press my face between her legs. I lick her from clit to asshole, drawing out her groan and making her almost collapse. Straightening, I push her thighs together and bracket them with my own.
‘Dylan, please,’ she pants, trying to turn her head over her shoulder, which is pretty hard to do as I wrap my hand around the back of her neck.
‘Hush.’ It’s just a sound expelled through gritted teeth as I push her head forward and down. ‘Let’s do what we do best.’ Swiping my dick through her wetness, I push inside.
My body jerks—shock, I think—before I pull back and slam into her again, this time with a grunt that counters her cry. I begin to move, all action and little thought for anything else but blinding myself. To every misdirection. Every hurt. Her hot walls clench around me with every hissed curse I throw at her. I want it to hurt so bad, but for which of us, I’m not sure. Maybe I want us both to end it right here—to leave us both bloodied and bruised.
A fitting ending.
Her hands twist in the pale bedding, and I suddenly need to own the rasp of her breath, but I can’t find the coordination to slow down or wrap my fingers around her fucking neck. She begins to slip or pull away—I’m not sure which—and I sure as shit don’t care which.
I slide my hand under her waist, pulling her back from her collapse as my other tangles in her mane of hair.
‘I’m not done yet,’ I growl, grasping her hips in both hands and pulling her hard against me. Rooted deep inside, I grind against her ass. ‘You want it hard or soft? Maybe you want to touch yourself while we fuck?’
‘Yes!’Her answer is more hiss than actual word as I sense a shift in her breathing, and I unravel a little more at the hot grip of her walls around my dick.
‘You want me to go hard. You want this to hurt.’ I underline the last with a punch of my hips. Her fingers are as white as the bedding she grasps, her pussy pulsing greedily and drawing me down to my own collapse. Curled against her back, I resist the urge to twist her face to mine—to force her to surrender from her mouth. Instead, I groan into her neck low and harsh. ‘I fucking loved you. How’s that feel for you, Edera? That hurt enough?’
I swear the sob that rises from her chest makes the bed shake, the muscles of her tight pussy echoing her cry even as she pushes back, deepening my strokes.
