Page 67 of Honey Cut
Has meis not exactly the truth—I’m manhandled there after he lies down on his back—and his fingers are clamped tightly around my hips. My hands scrabble at the tall headboard, trying to find something to hang on to so that my full weight isn’t on his face, but I can’t find anything to grab. Mark pulls me harder against his mouth anyway, sucking my clit and then working my hips over the impossibly soft velvet of his tongue.
My eyes are struggling to keep focus now; I’ve lost all control over my breathing. I can barely keep myself upright as the inner muscles of my core start pulling tighter and tighter. When I drop my head down, I find his eyes closed and his eyebrows pulled together, like he’s savoring this, like I taste good enough that he needs to shut out all his other senses in order to properly enjoy it.
And then when he opens his eyes, he looks at me with a gaze no less avid than I’ve seen from him while I’ve been cuffed to a bench.
“I’m going to come, sir,” I manage to say, not sure what the etiquette is here, when we’re alone.
He just slaps my ass hard enough to make me squeak. “You better,” he says and then starts sucking me again. There’s another smack on the ass when I least expect it and then another.
The pain is like a rush of fresh water every time, bracing and then shocking, stepping into a cold, clear pool and being washed clean.
He moves me over his face, like I’m fucking his mouth in earnest, but of course it’s all him, all those brutal hands on my hips, all his will and his dominion. It pleases him to have me ride his face, so I am. It pleased him to smell and nuzzle me earlier, so he did. It pleased him to make out, and so we kissed until our lips were swollen.
Maybe that’s the difference between public Mark and private Mark. In the hall, everything must give the appearance of power, must reify his position as master of decadence and discipline.
Here, he can do whatever he wants, things that on the surface might not look dominant but are still relentlessly so at their heart. Between the two of us, there is no confusion, no loss of the edge of control or power that thrills us both. Even if I’m getting kissed like I’m in the back seat of a car, even if I’m sitting on his face, it’s still him,him, at the center of me.
The bliss from his mouth is like a saw jaggedly cleaving me in two, and when it finally reaches my core, I gasp his name and curl forward, my hands finding his head and holding on for balance.
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve touched his hair, and it is a hedonistic pleasure all its own to feel the thick silk of it between my fingers and against my palms. In the growing morning light, it’s as gold as a crown, the halo on a medieval saint.
Mark lifts me off his mouth when I’m done, and his lips and chin shine wetly in the fresh sunlight. He gives me a sinful grin as he tosses me onto my back as if I weigh nothing and then crawls over me.
“Take off my underwear,” he says, sucking at my stiff nipples through the silk tank top I slept in. “Get me ready to fuck.”
He must only mean by disrobing him because there’s no question that his body is ready for intercourse. When I push his boxer briefs down to his muscle-cut thighs, his dick slowly bobs free, jutting in front of him like a ruddy, angry pole.
His mouth is hot through the silk, sucking lovingly and then hard enough to make me squirm, and finally I get his underwear to his knees and all the way off.
“I want to go bare,” he says, lifting his head to look at me. “Is that okay? If I leave my cum inside you?”
I have an IUD, and we both get tested every month as part of Lyonesse’s membership regulations. “Yes, please,” I whisper. “I’d like that…very much.”
I’m very, very slick now, but my sex-swollen cunt still takes Mark a few tries to fit himself into. He pushes his plump tip in first and then the first half of his erection, stretching me so full that I close my eyes. And then he braces his knees on the bed, wraps his arms around me, and shoves home in a slide that has me whimpering.
He lets out a shuddering groan as he moves fully within me, bare for the first time.
“You are a pearl beyond price,” he tells me on a broken breath. “You are made of heaven itself.”
He’s pinning me fully to the bed now, with his hands on my wrists, which are pressed against the mattress on either side of my head, and with the weight of him flattening my breasts against his chest. His hips move cruelly, stoking a fresh orgasm there, just enough roughness to make ecstasy sing through my blood. Every pull has him dragging up against my aching nub, and every push sends him so deep that I’m sure he’s almost to my heart.
He drags his mouth over mine in a scorching kiss. I taste myself now, sweet and distinct, and I try to lick myself off his lips, which makes him smile.
“You like how that tastes?” he murmurs. “Now you know why I can’t get enough of it.”
With him fully on top of me like this, I can feel the quivering in his arms and thighs, the trembling breaths in his chest, the shudder of his stomach. It is strange to be like this in the daylight, with the sun gilding our skin, with the water-light from the ceiling dancing over the bed, but perhaps it’s fitting too. None of the neon-shifted shadows of the hall, none of the leather-accented moodiness of the playrooms. I can see every fleck of gold that makes up the morning shadow on Mark’s jaw. I can see every knot and jag of the barely healed wound in his shoulder.
I can see the way he looks at me, like no way I’ve ever seen him look at me before. With desire, yes; with respect, also yes—no matter what depravities we play at, he’s always asked my permission, always given me safety, always cared about my opinion.
But this look…
This is something new. Something almost like what I felt between us on our wedding night as we played chess. Because as he’s staring down at me with eyes like the ocean and still that brutal use of my cunt, I feel?—
What could possibly be the word for it?Esteemed?Dear?
Adored?
He comes as he kisses me again, going still and then rutting like a beast, filling me full. It drips from me and still he keeps fucking, grunting, his head dropping beside mine and his harsh breath in my ear.
