I grab his wrist; I don’t know whether to stop him or to hold him to me where I need him. I just hold him while he works me, and I arch my back and rock my hips into his hand, chasing an orgasm I’ve never wanted more in my life.
“Not yet,” he says when I’m so close I know I’ll come with one more flick of his clever thumb, but instead he pulls away from where I need him.
“No!” I cry out, but then he’s moving up and taking me with him as he throws me over his shoulder and lands a hard swat to my ass that cracks through the quiet house and makes my pussy clench. “Yes!”
He lets out a grunt as he drops me to my back on the bed, and I watch as he kicks off his boots and kicks off his jeans. In the waning light of the evening, I can see how beautiful he is.
“Show me your tits,” he commands, and I reach behind me and unhook my bra, letting it fall to the floor. I want him to touch me like he did in the locker room. “Touch them; show me how you want it.”
I cup my breasts and let my thumbs skate over the hard tips. I arch my back and press my legs together. I was close before he carried me in here, and now I feel like I might die if I don’t come.
“Does that pretty pussy hurt?” he asks me, his voice low, and I look to him to see him squeezing the root of his cock in his fist.
“Uh-huh.” I nod.
“Good, baby. Spread your legs and show me where it hurts.” I do as he says and let my legs fall open. “Touch yourself. Show me, but don’t come.”
“King,” I plead.
“Don’t come,” he orders. “If you do, I’ll be mad.”
“Yes,” I pant, unsure if I want him to be mad at me or not. I trail my hand down my belly from my breasts to between my legs, feel my own wetness there, and moan. I put pressure on my clit, and my legs begin to shake.
“Don’t come, baby,” he says, and I watch him stroke his cock in his fist.
“No,” I whisper, but I’m shaking so bad. My whole body is quaking as it builds, and I rub my center faster and faster.
“Don’t come.”
And then it happens. It rolls over me like a tidal wave, and I gasp his name as I find my release. “King.”
“I do like my name on your lips when you come, baby,” he says as he wraps his hand around my ankle and flips me to my belly, my pussy still quivering. “But I told you not to.”
And then his palm lands flat on my backside, and it stings.
And then another one on the other cheek, and it burns too.
And then my upper thighs, but the burn is morphing, building into something else. I anticipate it. I want it. I want more.
He grips my hips in his hands and pulls me up to my knees, his hand on my back pressing my chest into the bed. He uses his thigh to push my legs wide, and then he’s there. I feel him, the very tip of him at my center. I hold my breath in anticipation, and it whooshes out of my lungs in a big gust as he drives deep inside me. His hands on my hips keep me on my knees; otherwise, the power behind his thrusts would have knocked me flat.
And then he moves, plunging in and out of my waiting pussy in sure and strong strokes. With his knees holding open my legs, his hand at my back pressing me down, and his hand at my hip pinning me there for him, I’m at his mercy. I can do nothing but take him, take his fucking, and I don’t want anything else. My senses are overwhelmed, and even though I just came, it’s building within me again in a way I know there is not only no holding it back, but also when it crashes down upon me, it will ravage me in a way no other ever has.
“King,” I pant. I’m close, so very close to the edge.
“Sky,” he growls in reply as he pounds into me. He thrusts his hand at my back up and into my hair, gripping it, pulling it, and twisting my head so I can see him over my shoulder. He looks savage and fierce as he takes me. “When I fuck you, you call me Sky.”
“Sky,” I cry out as it rolls over me like a thunderstorm. My body shakes, and I’m helpless to do anything but dig my fingertips into the mattress and hold on.
“Fuck, yes,” he growls as he pounds into me harder and harder. His name on my lips seems to make him lose all control, and he fucks me wildly.
And then he drives deep one last time, holding me tight, so tight I know I’ll have marks on my hip from his fingertips in the morning, and he comes.
But before his cock even begins to soften, he pulls out quickly, and I miss the feel of him connected to me, surrounding me with his size and strength. And like a crash on the track that’s coming, you can see it, and everyone else can see it, but we’re all helpless to stop it. Through the whole thing, I watch him in horror as King practically runs out of my room, leaving me naked, his cum still warm on my thighs, and not once does he look back.
He stalks out, slamming the door behind him in a way that screams of finality. He is not coming back.
I knew the score and I played the game. I thought I could win, but as it turns out, I’m always the loser.
