Page 114 of Easy
As he steps away, I lurch toward him, the flimsy garment tying my limbs forgotten in lust. No one has ever had this effect on me as every cell in my being screams for more from him. Desire replaces anger and shame as I wrap my hands in his pristine shirt and whisper, ‘Again.’
His response is wrong by yesterday’s standards, though everything that’s right for tonight as he grasps my forearms.Held in his hands, not in his arms. This isn’t an embrace as he kisses me slowly, kisses me tenderly, an action as soft as his next is hard.
‘You’re trying my patience.’ Twisting me around, he pushes me forward and down against the bed.
My heart is in my throat, my pulse thundering everywhere as he pushes himself between my legs. Leaning into me, he forced my body to sink flat, and the pressure of his teeth on my shoulder is a sign of my position. A sign of his control. I give it to him gladly, whimpering as his lips trail and graze my neck as his hands lift mine above my head.
The loosening of his pants. A rustle of foil.
My panties slide the rest of the way from my legs.
I think to myself,he’ll loosen my bra at any moment, when he slides one knee between mine, spreading me wider. A hand under my hips, he lifts me in readiness from the bed.
‘Fuck,’ he growls, all civility gone from his tone.
‘Pleasure.’ Is my response required at all?
‘For mine. Not yours.’
Too late, I think, hoping this time the utterance isn’t out loud.
Grabbing handfuls of sheet, I anchor myself, moaning loudly as he pushes inside. I’m so wet that my body offers no resistance to his power, unless you count the small smile I curl into the fist by my mouth.
‘Fuck.’ His tone is low and rough as though he’s fighting for control. ‘I can feel you pulsing around my cock.’
If his words weren’t enough to make me moan aloud, his next action is. I cry out in pure ecstasy in response to the snap of his hips.
‘You’re. So. Fucking. Tight.’ He punctuates his growls with his movements as I begin to soar.
I thrust my hips backwards, my arms still near my head in my desperation to please him. In my desperation for more. For harder, for deeper. For his teeth against my skin. His hand snakes around my waist, pulling me upwards and back onto him. In my desperation, my movements become frantic, his fingers curling around the fragile column of my neck, stilling me. I know I shouldn’t like it, and that I should say so right now. But at this moment, the action feels more like an embrace. Especially as his fingers tenderly touch my jaw, turning my head. Somehow, my breasts balance free above my bra; he teases the hard peaks as we kiss. A moment of slow, tender lips and wet swipes of tongue before he begins to move again. Small, precise, yet powerful thrusts. I feel him deep inside—feel his every muscle twitch and flex as he holds me close. I’m a doll in his arms—something fragile and delicate. Something to be positioned at his whim.
His, my body screams.His for the night.
At the thought, my breathing becomes shallow, my muscles holding him tight enough to make him groan.
‘That’s right,’ he rasps. ‘Let me feel your pleasure. Give it to me.’
From china doll to animal, I buck against him, desperate to take it all. Frantic to get to that edge—the feeling is white hot, pulsing through my limbs and under my skin as he holds me there, but the friction isn’t enough as he stills his hips.
‘You need this, don’t you, sweetheart?’ In the absence of words, I moan as I writhe against him. ‘But good girls say please.’
With one hand holding my neck, he slides the other between my legs. His fingers are light and deft and something other than what I need. I buck against him, desperate for pressure—for fast and hard fingertips. For his teeth at my neck. For his cock to sink into me. To push me into the bed.
‘You’re soslick.’ His words are as soft as a caress, his strong arms holding me tight, preventing me from moving, from slamming into him. From using my own fingertips. My breath is short, my chest heaving as need tightens my skin. I do need it—I need it all. But a good girl? Can I be? For him? ‘I can feel your need pulsing around my cock. Your clit pounds against my fingertips. I can make it so good for you—’
‘Please!’ I cry, the word expelled in a sob. I close my eyes at how desperate I feel. How desperate I sound. ‘Please. I’ll do anything.’
‘Like that, yes,’ he hisses with one hand on my neck, one sliding between my legs.
I see stars, the universe, as his fingers slide through my wetness, touching where we meet. I detonate—coming so hard that my cries sound anguished and desperate. I writhe against him, singing his praises and chanting my relief.
One minute, I’m in heaven, and the next, I’m pushed down to my hands and knees. There’s no time for post-coital bliss as he tears another climax from me. His hands hard on my breasts, the man rides me, driving inside over and over again. A harsh advance. A pounding. A pummelling. And I love it.
No kissing.
No stroking.
No endearments.
