“You take it,” he growls when I choke, gagging around his girth, snuffling thin air through my nose, pulling harder than I’m used to so I can drag tiny sips of oxygen around the massive throbbing steel of his fat cock. “You fucking wanted it, so you take it.”
He lets go of my hair, clamping my face on either side like I’m in a metal vice, then thrusting in and out of my mouth, my throat, without the slightest hint that he remembers I’m a living breathing human being.
“Gagging and choking like you don’t love it,” he says, pulling back and letting me gasp in a lungful of air, then shoving himself straight back inside me, while I cough and retch and slobber all over him, all over me. “Make a fucking mess, why don’t you?”
He abruptly pulls out, turning me, shoving my head onto the mattress, holding the side of my face firm against it with one hand while he shoves me onto my knees, spreading my thighs wide apart with the other.
Three fingers plough into me, not a scrap of tenderness left. They scrape and pull against my entrance until I wince, pumping in and out of me at a dozen times the speed he could manage with his cock.
Then itishis cock, back inside me. Filling me and stretching me and making me feel like I belong to him and only to him, like the memory of any cocks before his are being erased with each penetrating thrust.
He switches the hand against my face for his opposite arm, curling it around my head, pulling it back against his chest, his upper arm against my ear, his fingers covering my mouth.
“No screaming,” he says with an evil laugh, delivering me a sharp slap on my tender butt cheek. “Remember how thin the walls are. You don’t want your friend to come to the door and see you spreadeagled on the bed, taking whatever scraps you’re given.”
And my muscles pull harder against him, so near to the edge that they become frantic, tensing and releasing, milking him for whatever he can give me.
“Nuh-huh,” he whispers in my ear. “Good girls don’t get their orgasms unless permission is granted. Good girls do what they’re told when they’re told to… and what I’m telling you now is don’t come.”
I squirm against him, my fingers digging and releasing each bit of his flesh that comes to hand. Wanting to beg, wanting to plead my case, but unable to around the thick fingers clamped over my mouth.
“Do you want to come, Princess? Do you think you’ve earned your treat?”
I try to nod but he won’t let me move.
“Aw,” he says in a sad voice, like he was wishing for any sign, even the smallest one, to let him know I was on board with his new plan. “I guess I’m the only one getting satisfaction today.”
My struggles increase, the desperation for release growing ever more powerful, until I’m bucking against him, fingers scrabbling for purchase anywhere, clawing, slapping, pinching, pulling.
“It’s almost like you want to communicate something to me,” he laughs, that same laugh that’s always driven me crazy. Crazy with anger, crazy with lust. “Use your words, baby. Use your words.”
And my frustrated mind finally comes up with the solution to focus my attention on his hand. I pinch and scrabble and dig at his fingers, trying to find leverage. Finally, I pry them off my lips long enough to wail, “I want to come.”
“Then do it.”
Permission granted.
My orgasm tears through me, spasms of pleasure growing in size and volume until my whole body convulses, the aftershocks gripping me in waves, each one spreading further until the heat turns up so high, I melt into the sheets.
Seb follows me over the precipice, clutching the back of my neck and releasing a long, slow groan into my ear that produces another weaker tremor for me.
I want to cry, it’s so good, and when I wipe my forearm across my face, it’s no surprise that it comes away wet.
“You’re okay?” he whispers, eyes scanning me for signs of pain, of debilitation but apart from being completely unable to move, I’m fine.
He nuzzles into the side of my neck, taking a late bite.
“The next time you try to send me back to my room before I’m ready, you’re taking double. You’re taking your buzzy little friend in your cunt, and you’re taking me in your sweet little arse.”
My sensitive muscles produce another belated spasm in response, and I murmur something against his chest as I fall back to sleep, satisfied and exhausted. Something fully appreciative. Something that acknowledges I don’t care how he uses me because I know I’ll end the day wrapped in his powerful arms.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
ESME
The second timeI wake and ask Seb to leave, he agrees. The dose of painkillers he fed me earlier are in full effect and I feel good after I have a quick shower, not bothering to wash my hair, and make the slow trek along the hallway to breakfast.
Rowena hitches her eyebrow at me, immediately discarding her group to come over and sit next to me. “I’d ask you if you’re all right, but it was clear to me at five thirty this morning that your day started out better than mine.”
