Page 94 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
Before I can even begin to guess what he’s up to, he’s cracking me across the ass.
“Damn, I needed that,” he breathes, and then he does it again. The sharp sting followed by the greedy caress of his fingers does all sorts of right things for me. “More importantly, you needed that. About time someone took charge of this ass.”
Cade slides two fingers into me, and I gasp, gripping the couch for support.
“Shut the hell up,” I breathe out, but my voice isn’t quite as authoritative as I wish it were. I’m too hungry for more, in desperate need of a release. My pussy throbs and aches, clamping around his fingers and trying to milk them as he fucks me nice and slow and deep, working up wetness onto his hand.
With a satisfied grunt, he pulls his hand away.
“Crown can have that pussy; I want your ass.” He teases a fingertip over my rear opening and then presses against it, demanding entry, waiting for my body to relax beneath his touch. At first, I tense up, because I’ve never even thought about anal before.
Of course that’s what Grainger wants, to be the first man to fuck my pussy and the first man to fuck my ass.
“Don’t hurt me,” I whisper, before I can stop myself. The words are a bit too raw, a bit too vulnerable for my liking. That seems to give Grainger pause, but only for a split-second.
“Why protect you with my life then cause you pain? Don’t be stupid, Gidge.” He pushes a single finger in, and I gasp. It’s such a different feeling than I’m used to, like I’m being impossibly stretched, like I’m breaking all of nature’s rules but being rewarded for it at the same time. With a slow but exacting surety, he draws his finger out, pushes it in again, out, in.
I exhale and relax, letting my muscles turn to jelly, allowing myself to fall apart. Still, my cunt aches, and I wonder if this will satisfy her neediness.
Grainger doesn’t let me spend too long contemplating it, putting two fingers into my pussy without removing the one in my ass. He works me with his hand as I grind my pelvis against the sofa, stimulating my clit at the same time.
As if he can sense the moment of climax approaching, he purposely withdraws his hand. There’s the sound of clothing rustling, the crinkle of a condom wrapper, and then he’s pressing the tip of his cock to my ass.
“Don’t fight me on this, Gidge,” he warns me as I scratch my nails against the side of the sofa. “The more relaxed you are, the better this’ll be.” That’s the last bit of advice I get before he’s pushing inside, and I’m gasping, leaning forward instinctually until my palms hit the floor. “Oh yeah, that’s the angle right there.”
Grainger takes his time, turning this moment into sweet torture, pushing his dick in inch by inch. Each time my body gives him resistance, he stops, waits, and then dives a little deeper.
“Tell me I’m the first one to fuck this,” he commands, and even though I swear to God, I’m going to shave his eyebrows off in his sleep, I do it. I say it. Shit, I’m a sucker.
“You’re the first,” I promise him, and he groans, gripping my hips hard and keeping me in place on the couch. His movements are slow, almost languorous, this lazy, confident motion that makes me feel weak, that makes my body tremble beneath him.
But that isn’t me.
I’m not weak. I use the side of the couch to push myself up, to shove my hips back into him until he’s buried completely inside of me. There’s a little bit of pain, the agony of a first time, but mostly it’s just pleasure. Awful, awful, ugly, pretty pleasure.
“Jesus motherfucking Christ,” he says, which is as close to a compliment as we’re ever going to get. I take it. I hold myself up, giving him resistance to fuck me. It feels amazing, but there’s this emptiness inside of me, this begging need to have both holes filled at the same time.
I could take more than one devil to bed. Would they like that? Are they all too possessive to learn to share?
The orgasm is just out of my reach, and I know without a doubt that Cade isn’t going to let me get there. Instead, he uses me to please himself, stretching me and groaning, his fingers leaving bruises on my hips.
My breasts sway as he moves in and out of me, his pace increasing just before he grabs onto the back of my borrowed vest. He takes the fabric in a fist and yanks on it, giving himself better leverage as he comes hard. The sound he makes is unbridled, the cry of a wild demon, one that doesn’t submit without a leash of hellfire.
