“Bigger,” I whisper when the curve is steep enough for me to map the trajectory. “I want everyone to see.”
There’s another second of hesitation. “What about when you’re playing sports, or hot, or… or…?”
“You’re acting like it’s a mark I’ll be ashamed of.” I strain upwards, pressing my forehead against hers, ignoring how the movement twists the blade farther into my flesh. “When it’s a scar I’ll wear with pride.”
She inhales twice, both quick breaths, then nods. As I relax into the mattress, she continues her design.
“Deeper,” I say when the pressure is barely enough to mark my skin. “It’s got to last a lifetime.”
The knife bites harder into my skin, the pain mixing with the growing rapture on George’s face as she marks me, carving a place in my life that she knows can’t be erased.
When she finishes the last cut, she holds the knife aside, balancing on the mattress with it clenched in her fist as she ducks her head and runs her tongue along the crimson lines, licking me clean of blood. Placing her mouth against me and gently sucking when it doesn’t well up enough on its own.
I want to pull her astride my face, taste her, crank her heat up to eleven, but she wriggles against my hold, reaching behind her to grasp my cock in her fist, softly pumping.
Just when I think she’s about to guide it to her dripping wet entrance, she shuffles farther down the bed, lowering her mouth to draw the head of my cock inside, enveloping it with the wet muscle of her tongue.
The sensation drives deep shudders through my body. My hands clench into fists by my sides, then I raise them over myhead again, giving myself distance because otherwise the temptation to grab her would become overwhelming.
Her tentative efforts become more adventurous. I groan as she licks in one long stroke from base to tip, her tongue swirling around the top, sucking off the drops of precum as my hips tilt towards her.
“Yes,” I say as she draws me into her mouth again, this time sucking at the head but relaxing around my girth to take me deeper. “That feels so good.”
Then I temporarily lose the power of speech as she bobs her head, moving up and down my shaft with quickening motions, her left hand grasping at the base of my cock, pumping in tandem with her mouth, then reaching farther down to cup my balls, squeezing and stroking until I’m right at the edge.
“Stop,” I beg, breaking my hand away from its self-imposed restraint and gripping the side of her face, the top of her jaw, easing her away, her mouth popping off the tip of my cock, while staying clear of her injuries. Drawing her back up my body as I growl, “I want to come inside you.”
“You were inside me,” she giggles, cheeks flushing so prettily that I almost orgasm on the spot, completely drawn in by her beauty.
I bend double to catch her mouth with mine, shocked when her tongue thrusts deep, then responding with the same enthusiasm.
“Sit astride me,” I order her, wrapping my free arm around her waist to pull her into position while my hand continues to cup her head, still scared of hurting her more than she already has been tonight.
“So bossy,” George grumbles back at me, the words echoing into my mouth. “When I’m on top, I should be the one in charge.”
I tug at her hair, gentle but serious. “You allowed to do whatever you like when I let you have free range but never, ever forget that I’m the one in control.” She wriggles against me, I guess in protest but it’s impossible to tell given how enthusiastic my body’s reception is. “Don’t you want to be my obedient girl?”
Her pussy is open against my cock, riding him rather than letting him inside, but I still feel it as she orgasms, as her soft cry turns harsher and her body spasms, a contraction spiralling farther afield as each wave ripples from her core.
My lips are tangled in her hair as I whisper, “You want to come for me again? While I’m inside you?” and her nod sends me into a delirium of need, a thirst that insists on being slaked. I let my fingers slide along her lips, teasing inside her as I feel how soaked she is, how brazenly her needs meet mine.
Thrusting inside her is an exquisite satisfaction. The moment I find my rhythm, she alters position, changing the angle, my head rubbing against her differently enough that she gasps, tilting her head back to open her throat, sucking in enough oxygen to continue the ride.
I cup her tit, bending my head at a sharp angle to take her stiff nipple into my mouth, rubbing my tongue against it, sucking it, drawing my head back as I palm it, then turning my attention to its partner, not wanting to throw her off balance.
“My turn,” she whispers, and I don’t know what she means until she takes my chin between her fingers, tilting my head back and bringing the knife in front of my eyes. “Mark me with your name.”
Heat surges in me as I take the weapon from her grasp, lightly tracing the blade over her skin. When I stare into her face, wanting to be sure, I see bruises are blooming across the left side of her face where it hit the table, the split lip clearly visible.
Already so many marks on her pale flesh. None of them yet mine.
With one last nod of encouragement from George, I insert the tip, letting it draw its first taste of her blood.
My hips are still pumping, creating the delicious friction that I crave, but I force them to still, let George slow her response, not wanting our movement to cause a mark I can’t take back.
I carve my initials smaller than hers on mine, making it possible to hide beneath a bra or a tank top. These lines are solely for the two of us to see; a private claiming but still indelible, enduring.
To see my initials, my name, mybrandon her is incredible. For all I’ve claimed her over and over in my head, this is the first time I have lasting physical evidence she’s truly mine.
