Page 127 of Ruthless Game

He withdrew them again.

I screamed bloody murder then, not caring that his roommates were probably home.

“David Max Lawson, you fuck me with that cock or I swear to god I’ll⁠—”

There was pressure, a huge amount of pressure, at my small hole, and then he was pushing his cock inside, rendering me silent. Gasping for air.

It hurt so good.

Nothing had ever hurt so good.

Only he could make me hurt so good.

“You were saying?” he asked.

“Carry on,” I managed.

Leaning forward, he grabbed one my nipples and pinched hard, and I screamed again, my insides coiling into that tight spiral that meant⁠—

—he sank deeper inside my body, growling. “Fuck, Emma, how do you always feel so goddamn good? Each and every one of these holes was made for my cock and my cock alone.”

“Please,” I begged, not sure if he was in the mood to torture me or reward me. “Please⁠—”

“Tell me you love me,” he said, as he bottomed out inside me.

“I love you.”

“I love you, what?”

“I love you, Max.”

“Good girl. I love you, too, which is why I’m going to give you what you want.”

And then he was powering into my ass, over and over, grunting, staring right into my eyes. The vibrator at my clit came to life, and it took less than a second before everything inside me erupted into a shooting star and I flew over the edge, screaming his name, screaming that I loved him, screaming god knew what, as I came, and came, and came.

The orgasm stopped, but Max wasn’t done, still pile driving into my ass.

“I love you, Starburst. You’re going to come again for me.”

“Max,” I protested weakly.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he growled, dialing the vibrator up until it was so high, I came again immediately, going blind for a moment. I lost track of my orgasms after that, lost in the way I felt so full, lost in the way pain turned into pleasure and back into pain again, lost in him, in us, in how filthy and raw our love was and always would be.

“Fuck, Emma, I love you,” Max groaned, and then with one more deep thrust, he shoved his cock all the way into me and came, painting the insides of my ass with his cum.

Sighing contentedly, he pulled out slowly, and for once, his cock wasn’t still hard. He stared at the bed.

“Fuck, my cum dripping out of your asshole is so goddamn hot,” he said.

“No more,” I whimpered.

“Of course, Angel,” he murmured, and then he was unbuckling my legs from my arms, untying my arms from the bed, massaging the muscles until I was loose and relaxed. He carried me into the bathroom, and I zoned out as he cared for me, washing my body, my hair, pressing kisses to my neck and my face and my shoulders as he told me how good and perfect and beautiful I was, how proud of me he was, how grateful that I’d share that with him. As usual, it was the praise- humiliation-praise sandwich that got me, and I collapsed against his chest, replete and complete.

Finally, he dried us off and carried me back to the bed, depositing me on it and curling me against him.

“I never thanked you,” he said after a quiet moment.

“Thanked me for what?”