“I—” She cuts off with a sharp inhale as I curl my fingers, finding that special spot inside her. “I don’t know.”
“Then I’ll decide.” I increase the pressure, the rhythm, watching her unravel under my touch. Her skin flushes pink, her breath coming in short gasps. “You wanted to forget. So forget everything except how this feels.”
She comes apart on my fingers with a cry that she tries to muffle against my shoulder, her body clenching around me so tight it borders on painful. I work her through it, drawing out every pulse, every tremor, feeling her wetness coat my hand.When she finally sags against me, boneless and panting, I release her wrist.
“Now fuck me,” she demands when she can breathe again.
“Fuck you?” I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against her slick heat. She’s wet and ready, but still so tight. So fucking tight, even though I just made her come. It’ll be a damn miracle if I don’t rip her. “If you want me to fuck you, then look at me. I want to see your eyes when I claim this virgin cunt.”
She looks at me, her gaze locking with mine.
There’s a dazed look there, mixed with fear and anger. Against my instinct to rut into her, to claim her, hard and fast, I ease into her slowly.
Just the tip at first, her body resisting the intrusion, her muscles tightening.
“Breathe,” I tell her, holding myself still even though I want to thrust deep.
“I am—” Her voice cuts off as I push deeper, inch by agonizing inch. Her whole body tenses, muscles locking up against the intrusion.
“Relax.” I press my forehead to hers, our breath mingling. “You’re making it harder.”
“Good.” But she tries anyway, breathing deep and uneven, and I feel her body start to give way. This allows me to slide in another inch. In response, she makes a sound low in her throat that’s pure pain, and I almost pull out.
Almost stop this before I hurt her more. As if she can read my mind, she wraps her hands around my hips, refusing to let me retreat. Gripping tight, she sinks her nails into my skin, and I hiss from the bite of pain.
“Don’t stop,” she grits out through clenched teeth. “Don’t you dare stop. Finish it.”
I flex my hips and thrust forward, ripping through the final bit of resistance and burying myself deep. A pain-filled cry rips from her throat, and she tosses her head back. I grit my teeth and let her stretch around me.
“Fuck.” I hold completely still, giving her time to adjust to the invasion. “You okay?”
“No.” She lifts her head, and I see tears tracking down her flushed cheeks. “It hurts. It feels like you’re ripping me in half.”
I can only imagine. She’s so tiny, and I’m not exactly small.
“I know,” I whisper and lean forward, kissing her forehead and cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
Her entire body shudders. “Don’t apologize. Just—move. Make it worth it.”
Make it worth it.I’ll do more than that. Slowly, I pull out almost all the way before sliding back in. Each movement draws a gasp from her, the sound a mixture of pain and maybe pleasure. After a few strokes, her body relaxes around me, adjusting to the invasion and learning the rhythm.
“Better?” I manage, my voice strained with the effort of holding back.
“Getting there.” She rocks her hips experimentally, testing, and the movement sends pleasure shooting up my spine.
I move deeper, faster, watching her face as the pain morphs into pleasure. Of course she’s stubborn as hell and tries to set the pace, to take back some control by matching my rhythm and rolling her hips. Not fucking today. Catching both her wrists, I pin them against the counter on either side of her hips. She struggles against my grip, frustrated and wanting, but I hold firm.
“My pace,” I tell her, my voice low and rough with need. “Not yours.”
“That’s not fair.” She growls in frustration, trying to fight my hold.
“Life’s not fair, sweet girl.” I angle my hips, finding that spot inside her that makes her whole body jerk.
Instead of fighting me, a moan escapes her, and her body arches off the counter. Like a smug motherfucker I grin because I have her right where I want her.
I thrust into her again and again. Each stroke is deliberate and controlled, hitting that spot that transforms her gasps of pain into moans of pleasure. I watch her face, cataloging every expression, the flush spreading across her skin.
“There?” I watch pleasure chase the last traces of pain from her face.
