Page 117 of Secret Obsession
I freeze, orgasm forgotten. My cunt clenches around my fingers, but I pull them out and grip the armrest.
He chuckles, and suddenly he tosses the phone on the desk. It’s facedown, so the light—and if he’s still recording—illuminates more of the room while only capturing the ceiling.
I see him better now.
He’s got his shirt off, his glorious abs on display and his pants undone and shoved down. My panties are in his grip, and he’s sliding it along his length. Stroking himself off with the silk.
My lips part.
He gets closer, still jacking himself off with my panties.
I narrow my eyes at it. The little glimpse of the metal piercings flash through the blue silk that he picked out this morning. Yeah, we’re still doing that. I’ve given up on trying to change it and secretly kind of like it.
Except when he’s being a dick, like right now.
He’s close enough that his fist is jerking himself off even with my breasts. I sit up straighter, reaching for him, but he catches my fingers and intertwines them with his. Keeping my hand away.
And then he’s groaning, and he covers the head of his dick with the fabric in his grip. His balls tighten, lifting closer to his body, and his cock twitches. I bet it’s throbbing in his grasp.
He finishes and helps me off the chair. I stand, my body pressing to his. He doesn’t give me room to breathe. He barely ever gives me room to think. But then he’s turning me around and putting my hands on the wall, and he’s kneeling behind me.
“Miles—”
His nose is in my cunt. Inhaling. His teeth nip at me, his fingers separate me. He devours me like this, like he’s never tasted anything so good, and my head hangs down. Every inch of me is tensing up. He keeps me on the edge for seconds, minutes. Time drags out, and his movements stay slow and methodical.
“God,” he groans. He shifts. His breath coasts along my ass cheek.
I should expect his teeth—but I don’t.
He bites me, and I jump forward. Without anywhere to go, really, he easily drags me back. He bites again, harder, and I whimper. His fingers massage it. His other hand is still between my legs, working magic on my clit.
Until he rises and lines up behind me.
Then I understand that this was just him warming up.
“Hold the wall,” he grits out.
I barely have time to readjust my palms and brace myself. He slams into me with the force of a hurricane, and I scream. It just comes out. A wordless, breathless torrent. He fucks me with unmatched vigor. Every time his hips slap into my ass, it feels like a spank. Pain and pleasure have me captivated, and the noises that come out of my mouth—I don’t even know what I’m saying.
Some sort of plea. To release me, to fuck me harder. Nonsensical begging.
He cups my breasts, curving around me to lift my upper body and pin it against him. His hips continue to pound into me, but now we’re moving forward. I’m smashed between the wall and him. Only his hands on my breasts, rolling my nipples, act as a buffer. My cheek is on the cool paint, no doubt leaving behind makeup and sweat and tears.
“Do bad girls come?” He nips my earlobe.
“No,” I groan.
He slams to a halt, fully inside me. His forehead touches my shoulder, and his fingers tighten on me to the point of bruising, and he comes hard.
My body is on fire.
Pulsing and tense.
I swallow and take a deep breath,knowingthat everything leading up to this moment was just foreplay. And this is the punishment.
He steps back and turns me around. I stare at him, but his face is completely in shadow. He retrieves my panties from where he must’ve tossed them on the chair, and he kneels. He maneuvers one leg through its hole, then the other.
I forget that he came in them until he’s got them back around my hips, and the cool wetness greets me.
