Page 19 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 2

Each breath hitches in my throat, and I claw the sheets, rolling my head back and forth against the pillows, as my body fights the inevitable. I feel possessed by some demonic force building inside of me, something lashing at my muscles, tingling my spine and spilling warmth into the place he relentlessly assaults with his tongue. It twists and balls in my stomach, threatening to explode.

The room is quiet, except for my grunts and the lewd sounds of his mouth suctioning my flesh. Knees splayed as far as they’ll go, I tremble to hold myself together, to keep from slipping down this inviting rabbit hole.

No, no, no. My head battles. Not this way.

I’m strong, but my mind is losing the war against my body’s needs. I need this. I didn’t know I needed it until now, as heat builds low in my belly and promises something delicious.

His tongue is merciless, insistent on taking me to this place, this dark corner of my head where innocence is absent. A growl rumbles in his chest, prompting me to lift my head. I can’t see him, but I imagine him there. Between my thighs.

I’ve had a man’s hands on me before, ravaging me with little concern of whether or not it hurt. Nothing hurts except my pride and the likelihood I’ll hate myself tomorrow.

I squeeze my eyes, trying to put myself somewhere else, because I refuse to give him the satisfaction of my orgasm. I want to feed him his own medicine—see how it feels to be so impassive to someone’s efforts. I’m losing. I turn my head to the side, the tiny involuntary grunts escaping me with every lap of my sensitive mound.

My cunt, as he called it. So dirty. And I liked it. Damn it, why? Why didn’t I feel ugly and used and filthy when he said it?

I want to see his head between my thighs, his tongue working my body to orgasm. I don’t want to escape from it—I want to stay where I am and see what happens at the end of this. I have to know what this incredible sensation leads up to.

Heat builds inside of me, climbing higher until my cheeks burn, my toes curl, cramping with the tension. And then his finger glides inside, curving upward. He inserts another, abandoning his play of my asshole.

“Ah!” I want to kick out at him. Tears spring in my eyes, the commotion of my body confusing the shit out of me. I writhe on the bed, squeezing the sheets until my knuckles burn. The fire building inside of me threatens to catch.

It’s too much. But I don’t want him to stop.

He greedily sucks the last of my resistance and an explosion rips me open from the inside, pulses of pleasure radiating to all my nerve endings that ignite all at once. I cry out, the pathetic sound reverberating back at me in a cringeworthy reminder that this man just commanded my body in a way I’ve never felt before.

My first orgasm, and I want to tell him how incredible it feels, but I don’t.

I hate myself, wish I could hide and scold my weakness.

I want more, though. I need more. I lick my lips, feeling like a wolf that’d just gotten its first taste of blood.

“I’m going to fuck you now.” The tearing sound draws my attention to the shine of the condom wrapper caught between his teeth.

Slivers of movement tell me he must be rolling the condom on, my whole body burning with anticipation.

“Yes.” The word escapes me before I realize what I’ve said, and the first tear slips down my cheek. “Rip … if you’re going to … I don’t want soft. I can’t.”

Soft is for first times and for lovers, and Ripley is neither.

I don’t want to enjoy this, I want to hate him.

My body slides across the bed, as he yanks me to the edge. “Sweetheart, I think you and I are going to be a beautiful thing.”

Adrenaline pounds through my veins as he straddles my body, his rock hard erection standing proud between us as he slides it across my mound. I estimate the size to be bigger than any dick I’ve seen before.

A force hits my throat, keeping the air from my lungs, and I tip my head back gasping for breath. His tip lines up at my entrance, and I want to scream but I can’t. The pressure at my neck subsides at the same time he pushes into me, my pussy stretching around him, welcoming him inside like a fucking traitor.

His satisfied groan interrupts my thoughts, and when he says, “So fucking tight,” in a strangled voice, it tickles my senses. The thickness of his cock hardly makes for an easy glide, but the longer he stays there, the less I care about the pain. His first three thrusts are deep and brutal and the sting they invite feels as if he’ll split me in two. His body moves in a steady tempo, but with each upward drive, his dick fills me completely.

I will my muscles to relax, to accept the man’s size and relent to the pain.

He stills inside of me, slowing his pace to a tormenting glide, before he plunges into me again. In and out.

“I need to hold … can I hold on to you?” My small voice clings to the panic rising inside of me. At some point, he’ll move faster, slamming this monster into me.

“Yes,” he grits out. Animalistic grunts in my ear heighten my desire, and I long to bite down into his shoulder as I take all of him. His forehead rests against my shoulder, each drive pushing me closer to the edge. “Tell me no, Dylan.”

I frown at that, staring blindly at the ceiling as if it has an explanation. Why? Why would he have me stop this?