This Evie isn’t the shy creature who walks beside me at school, her muscles tight with the worry that she’ll do or say something wrong and everything good will be gone in an instant. Jerked away the same way all the good moments in her life have been stolen, leaving her with scraps when she deserved a feast.
This Evie has the confidence I’m missing.
Even now, when I’m frozen, trying to understand each new sensation, she tilts her hips, moving me when I’m trying not to move, squeezing her internal muscles until I think I’m about to come, about to climax just from resting inside her, overwhelmed with how good, how natural it feels.
Nothing like my hand and the sense of despair that there’s something wrong with me. In this instance, I’ve never felt moreright.More like the person I want to be.
“No,” she finally gasps in answer to my almost-forgotten question. “I’m being pinned down to a bathroom floor by a maniac who apparently doesn’t realise he’s supposed to thrust.”
“Like this?” I ease back a tiny fraction and surge into her again, the pleasure rippling into the deepest corners of my brain.
“Call that a thrust, virgin?”
“Bit late for that insult, whore.” But I don’t want to use that word, not any longer, not even in teasing. “Angel.” Better. “Where are all these lessons you promised? Where’s my step-by-step instruction booklet of how Evie likes to be fucked?”
I curl my hand under her body, cupping my hand around her breast and lightly squeezing, the feel of it somehow making my cock feel ready to explode.
Our nipples harden in tandem, and I rub mine against her back while gently circling my palm against hers. She’s pressed too tightly against the floor to allow more movement.
I must be crushing the air out of her lungs.
The fear catches me until I roll onto my side, bringing her with me. My cock slips out of her from the movement, andshe chuckles, digging her elbow back into my stomach until I untangle her arms, bringing one to my mouth for a kiss before letting go.
She reaches between her legs, taking me in her hand and guiding me back inside her. A slow exhalation ends with a whimper of pleasure and my pulse thumps even more strongly, taking her enjoyment as a reward.
My first movements are tentative, scared I’ll slip free again, scared I’ll hurt her. Then she reaches behind her head, curling her fingers into the base of my hair, tightening it into a fist and tugging, sending a flurry of delighted messages twisting and rolling, bumping into each other and turning, zooming in new directions.
Every cell in my body suddenly has an urgent signal to impart, too many, they tumble and tangle and entwine until all other thoughts are driven from my head.
I reposition myself, my right hand uppermost, curling over her hip so my fingers can stroke along her pussy, judging from her noises when to exercise more restraint, when to push harder.
My mouth finds the sweet curve where her neck meets her shoulder. Already, my teeth have marked it, but now my tongue stakes a claim too, licking and sucking and lapping at her skin, tasting the faint sheen of sweat, underneath it tasting the sweet subtle scent that’s purely her.
She tilts back her head until her mouth finds mine, using my hair to guide me where she needs to be, teeth grazing as she sucks my lower lip into her mouth, the rhythmic pull of her tongue encouraging it to swell, amplifying every signal of pleasure.
And finally, I move inside her. My thrusts are awkward at first, unsteady, jabbing forward with no skill, clumsy and tentative.
“That feels so good,” Evie murmurs and the half of me that thinks it’s a lie is overtaken by the half of me encouraged to move with firmer strokes, my fingers circling her clit, rapturous at the strangled gasp of pleasure that vibrates from her throat.
The sensation of her warm cunt wrapped around me is indescribable. Nothing has ever been this good, this rewarding, this terrifying all at the same time.
My chest is split open, my heart pulsing in full view, vulnerable and raw.
She could fell me with one wrong word, one cruel slap of her hand, but she doesn’t. Instead, she makes noises that fill me with encouragement, that make me want to give her more pleasure and more until she bursts with it, until she’s as joyous and frightened as I am.
I keep thinking I’ve found my rhythm, settled into my stroke, but every time the urgency grows until I move faster, until my claim is made deeper, harder, planting my cock so far inside her she won’t be able to remember anyone before me.
The urge to make hermineis so strong that I can’t help but give into the sensation, thrusting harder and faster until I’m pounding into her, skin slapping together until it stings like sunburn. I’m sure at any moment she’ll squeal, she’ll struggle, she’ll scream, and instead I listen to her gasp and moan, feel her pick up my rhythm and move so every sensation is heightened, every stroke lengthened.
I revel in the motion until the position I chose doesn’t work for either of us. Until I get to my knees, wrestling her in front of me, grabbing her hips and pulling her back onto me as I thrust forward, feeling her muscles grip and pulse and squeeze along every inch of my cock.
The wound in my wrist opens again, oozing blood that smears and streaks and smudges across her skin until she’scoloured crimson by the essence of me, by the miracle that gives me life; stained in its glory.
Her hand reaches behind her, blindly flailing and I relinquish the sweet curve of her hip to grab hold, twining my fingers through hers, feeling her clutch harder and harder until my bones grind together, her nails digging into the skin as I close my eyes to feel everything in all its graphic detail.
An image explodes from the darkness. Hands holding me down, laughter, someone touching me while I writhe and sob with disgust.
My eyes flick open, filling with the sight of Evie beneath me.She’sthe one on the floor.She’sthe one being ridden.
