Hazel
Beingbeneath him just feels right. I open my legs and accept him easily, surrendering to his powerful body as it pushes me harder and deeper into the mattress.
The light is dim and familiar. This is the same place we made love before, only now it’s different. Because now he’s said those three little words I longed to hear from him so long ago.
Our bodies remember one another well. My nipples harden at his rough touch, pads of his thumbs brushing over the pink buds as he slides his cock against my slit, using my own wetness as lubricant to stroke his length over my clitoris with agonizing slowness. I buck my hips against him and pull him closer to me with my legs wrapped around him, needy and impatient.
“You’re so wet,” he whispers against my lips. “My little slut. Always so ready for me.”
“Only you,” I moan.
“It better be,” he says. “I’ll kill any other man who touches you.”
“It’s only you,” I whisper, glad he can’t tell how my cheeks are burning in the darkness. “Ive missed you. I couldn’t be with anyone else while we were apart. I couldn’t bear it. You were never nothing to me, Vincent. You were everything. Always everything.”
“Fuck!” Vincent groans, pulling off of me and sliding lower on the mattress so that his face is inches above my mound. “Open your legs for me. I want to taste your sweet pussy.”
I part them, but not wide enough for his liking. He pushes my inner thighs apart with force, opening me up so that everything is bared beneath him. And then he dips his head and I close my eyes as I feel his tongue against the place where his cock had been just seconds before. He strokes my thighs as he licks me up and down and then in circular motions around my clit as his hands reach beneath me, cupping my ass and squeezing.
He groans as if it’s him receiving the pleasure and not me, as though he can’t get enough of my taste. I writhe beneath him but am still held in place by his hands, his body.
My hips begin to buck as the tension climbs higher, heat pooling between my legs, my arousal dripping down my ass and into his hands. And then suddenly he sucks lightly on the small bundle of nerves, his tongue fluttering over it at the same time, and I topple over the peak, wave after wave of ecstasy going through my body, exhausting me, draining me.
He sucks until it’s all gone, until it’s over, or until I’m falling limp against the mattress, uttering nonsense words as my body shudders around him.
He crouches above me now, aligning the head of his thick cock with my opening.
“Fuck me like you own me,” I say to him, recalling how I told him the night that I came to his door that I’m not his property.
I was right and wrong at the same time.
Right because I don’t belong to anyone. Not him or anyone else.
Wrong because even though he can’t claim control over me, I can give it away willingly and temporarily to this man who makes me feel owned, claimed, as though I were made for him.
Vincent’s eyes go smoky at my words. He pulls back, sitting up and pulling me to sit up as well.
“Sit on my cock, facing me,” he orders, guiding my hips as I position myself over him. “I want to watch your gorgeous tits bounce while you ride me.”
I do as he says, and he takes greedy handfuls of my breasts, squeezing and playing with them as I ride his cock. It feels so good that I have to close my eyes, can feel another orgasm climbing high in my body. I can feel every inch of his length entering me, so thick and long that nearly hurts, reaching that place inside of me that makes everything tingle and ache at the same time.
I’m about to come again for a second time when he shifts me, directing me off of him. His hands grip my hips and he turns me over roughly, his hand on my back pushing me down so that I’m flat on my stomach against the mattress.
He gathers my hair in his hand and holds me in place while he guides his cock between my thighs. It slips inside of me easily despite the angle, the entry eased by how wet I am, how needy I am for him. He feels different in this position, deeper, the tip of his cock colliding with my g-spot with every brutal thrust of his hips.
I moan against the sheets. He releases my hair only to slide his hand beneath my hips and find my clitoris, stroking it with his fingers and reigniting the building orgasm from before. Now it feels raw, more intense and exposed. I circle my hips against him, meeting his thrusts and his fingers at the same time.
His breathing is ragged and I recognize it as the familiar sound of Vincent approaching orgasm. His fingers quicken.
“I want to feel you come on my cock, Hazel,” he says in my ear, his voice rough. “Come on my cock like a good little slut and I’ll reward you by coming inside of you. Do you want that? Do you want my come deep inside of you?”
“Yes,” I cry, my fingers digging into the sheets.
His fingers stroke me faster, harder, matching the pace of his pistoning hips, fucking me hard enough to make the ornate headboard thud against the wall, punctuating his every merciless thrust inside of me.
“Is this fucking you like I own you?” he grunts in my ear as he slams into me harder. “Like your sweet little pussy belongs to me?”
“Oh god, yes,” I cry.
