Orgasm denial he calls it.
Hate it.
What’s worse, my feelings are so damn chaotic. And changing too fast. It’s freaking me out. I don’t even understand what’s going on in my head when it comes to him.
So, I keep being a defiant prick, telling myself I’m too used to being on my own, on relying on myself. I’ve been doing it for almost seven years.
Maybe even longer.
Hell, surviving with my prick of a father wasn’t easy.
Rex’s hand vanishes.
A loud crack sounds, then fire flickers across my ass like lava. I grunt, biting back the moan trying to escape.
Fuck yes. Keep spanking me, asshole.
“You listening?” His fingers dig into the fresh sting.
“Nope.”
A barrage of harsh smacks rocks me into the table.
I whine and arch higher, begging silently for more. But he won’t give me what I want. Rex knows spanking just gets me hornier.
If only I hadn’t come last week from the impact alone, the asshole might not have figured out how much Ireallylike it.
He lets go of my neck, then grabs my hips hard enough to bruise as I brace myself against the table. He rails into me, slamming so hard my toes leave the ground.
I can’t stop the pathetic moans bursting out with each thrust or the drool dripping down my chin. Heat pulses through me, but it ain’t enough to make me pop.
Instead, my aching dick twitches as he nails my sweet spot over and over. “P-please. . . .” I gasp before I can stop.
Hate when I slip up like that.
The first night together, I was lost in the new sensations. I’d never been fucked before. Never touched or sucked. Rex was my first in every way, and I begged like crazy.
It’s why I wanted him gone the next morning. Well, out of the bedroom at least. But my damn mouth ran and he’d left. Plus, he’d said something about food, so I thought he’d be cooking, and I was so tired I fell asleep.
When I woke up, he was gone and I freaked the fuck out. I fell on the kitchen floor hyperventilating, ribs hurting, head pounding. Shit. I could barely breathe.
Even puked.
It took forever to calm down enough to move, then I grabbed whatever food Rex had left on the table and tracked him down, wanting to stab the asshole for ditching me.
I cried most of the trek—hated that too. But when I found him, I was scared he’d reject me. My insides were jumbled in knots, so I climbed a tree and watched him.
Only the bastard caught me.
And when he got all possessive, it was like the rock on my chest vanished. Felt lighter, could breathe easier.
Thing is, over these past months everything’s gotten more intense. Now, being away from Rex feels like dying.
Had to split up for a few hours here and there, and after fifteen minutes felt like my heart was being ripped out and my skin was being peeled off, only to get back to normal the moment we reunited.
Add to that the fact I crave his touch. Crave him. But it’s so intense I feel like I’m drowning, which I hate, so up go my walls again.
Some days I just miss the times before Rex. These damn emotions are just so draining, and I can’t control them.
