I leave that statement alone because I don’t know what to say. That I feel the same way? That I should listen to my common sense, but when it comes to him, I’m senseless, helpless against the desire?
After a while, I no longer flinch while he finishes stitching me up. He covers the wound with gauze and a larger bandage, his fingers moving gently, like butterfly wings on my skin. He tugs down the towel from under my arms and goes about cleaning the more minor cuts and scrapes on the slopes of my breasts and breastbone. I try not to react to his ministrations, the slow, methodical way he slides that soaked cotton ball up and down, covering my skin, leaving behind a cooling sensation. My body doesn’t care about remaining stoic. Goosebumps erupt all over my skin. My nipples are hard, itching for his mouth again. I peek at him, his serious, sexy face filled with concentration, wholly focused on repairing damage. Damage that he inflicted, a voice chirps. Lastly, he covers each minor wound with oily antibacterial ointment, and a moan does escape when his hand accidentally brushes my nipple. I clear my throat, hoping I hid it, but when I look up at him, he is watching my nipple, a hungry look in his gaze. His greasy thumb flicks one nipple, and I feel like I’m going to aspirate. Heaven help me.
I expect him to do more, but he doesn’t. He simply puts everything back into his medicine cabinet and dumps the trash. When he’s done, I pull the towel back up, covering my bare breasts. “What about you?”
He looks down at me. “What about me?”
“Your face.” I study the angry red gashes from my fingernails when I fought him earlier. He steps closer and touches my lips,staring me deep into my eyes. I can’t decode the undecipherable look in his inky eyes.
“They’re fine. I like seeing them on my neck, Countess.”
I stare at him and then down at his dick. It rises slightly, pushing the towel up. I swallow, and he loosens the towel, letting it drop.
“I like having them on my body.”
I reach out and touch his cock, suddenly needing to know. I want to know how it feels to have him in my mouth. I drop to my knees, and it surprises him, and he holds onto the sink, laughing.
“You want it here? Now?”
I nod once, and he caresses my jaw. “Go ahead, Countess, show me. Put those lips on me. I want to feel your warmth.”
The smirk on his face shouldn’t make me feel good, but it does. It makes me wetter. I kneel, automatically wanting to feel his cock in my mouth. I hold onto his thighs as my body relaxes from not being on my feet.
His cock is directly at sight level, and I lick my lips, curious to see what it feels like to have all that metal in my mouth.
I trace the metal adornments, playing with the one that goes through his crown. “Which one hurt the most? This one?” I flick it with my tongue.
He touches my lip, dragging it down until it bounces back in place. “They all hurt, Countess, but I like the pain. I like to give it and receive it, especially when I’m fucking.”
Stone grips my hair tightly, and the tip of his cock bumps my closed mouth. I rub my lips over the tip. The head of his cock is impossibly soft, smooth, and silky. I open my mouth, accommodating the tip of his cock. The ring rests on my tongue. With my other hand, I trail my fingers up to the barbells on the underside, feeling the bumpy ridges that felt so good inside me. Running my tongue along the ridges, I can feel the metal is right under the skin. It feels different in my mouth. I’ve only eversucked two men’s dick, and it was nothing like this. He doesn’t seem in a rush to push my head down. Stone is leisurely about it, taking his time, moving his cock languidly back and forth, deep in my mouth, allowing me to explore him the way I want.
“That’s it. Open your mouth wider.”
He growls, grunting in my mouth. His hands are gentle when he cradles my skull in his hands. It’s not like before. I remember the power, the utter control he had of my head when he held me by the braid, but now his hold is soft, reverent. It makes me want to please him. I suck in my cheeks and swirl my tongue under the tip. The rods in the head of his cock graze the inside of my cheek.
“That’s right. You fucking take it. Open your mouth wider, Countess. Let me see your eyes water.” I gag around his cock at the back of my throat, and tears move down my face. I hold his balls, rubbing them, handling his metal loops lining the middle of his sac.
“Fuck’s sake, Countess. Keep doing that, fucking so good. Squeeze me harder.”
I stare up at him, his tattooed chest heaving. His chest heaving, labored breaths audible in the bathroom. His dark eyes are hooded, and his jaw is tight. A blunt finger touches the corner of my mouth and rubs through the saliva that I haven’t been able to stem.
“Such a pretty mouthful.”
Triumph and lust all clash together, warring with each other. I feel the need to gloat. Stone is out of control. I like that I can make him plead in that same awed voice I use when he’s touching me.
He pulls his cock out, rips the towel from me, and lifts me up in his arms. I blink at the brutal hold on me, the way he kisses my neck, scraping his teeth along my collarbone. He looks at me, and the savage look in his eyes is breathtaking. One minuteago, they were slumberous, relaxed, and now he’s tense again. Primal.
I don’t have time to think about where he is taking me. The long hallway goes on for what feels like forever. His strides are purposeful, and his cock is wedged between my ass, wet from my mouth, and his cum. I wrap my arms around his neck, letting him suck on my throat. The grip on my ass tightens and rocks my hips on his cock as he continues walking. I find his mouth and hold his face, kissing him, addicted to his mouth. I hold on tighter as soon as we enter a room. It’s dark with only the moonlight shining in through the huge ceiling-to-floor windows. The dark forest lies beyond, sinister, filled with bodies. I shiver
He lays me on his bed and I open my legs to accommodate his thickly muscled body. Open-mouth kisses trail down my neck, over my breasts, and when he finds my nipple, I cry out when he sucks intensely, drawing the entire areola in his mouth. I grip his head when the sharp edge of his teeth scrapes my nipple. It reminds me. My body is depleted, beyond sore. I’m not sure if I can take him again. I squeeze my eyes shut. “Stone. Please. I don’t think I can.”
“No, you look at me. Don’t look anywhere else but at me, do you understand?”
Hypnotized by his words, I try to focus on the idea of sex with him again. I take stock of my body. Below my navel is sore as hell. There’s a faint throb in each nipple from how hard he sucked, and I won’t mention the way the corners of my mouth feel overstretched and my lips inflamed from how strongly I sucked his dick not moments ago. I’ve never sucked a man’s dick that deeply, that eagerly, that hoggishly, slurping and wanting him to cum hard, to control him, he controlled me since he tackled me in the forest. My body needs a rest, but my mind lights up, a resurgence of lust coiling inside me.
“Yes,” I whine, unable to do more than confirm. I do what Stone says and look him in the eyes.
“Good, girl. You are even more beautiful when you follow my directions.”
