“You feel that? The way your body needs me? This is just the beginning. You’re mine, kitten, and I’m going to ruin you.” I pressed in a couple of inches, letting her body adjust, listening to her small cries. “But I’ll make it feel so good, you’ll never want me to stop.”
I entered her slowly, stretching her wide. She tensed, and her pained noises started growing too loud until I pressed my thumb against her clit, giving her something else to focus on as I inched my hips forward.
“Just like that,” I whispered as the last of my cock disappeared into her. “You took it so well.”
She was such a good little slut for me.
“Breathe for me.” His voice was warm but dominant. It made me want to listen. “Relax and enjoy yourself. I’ll make it feel good.”
Could he?
It hurt. It hurt a lot. It was a slow, burning, aching stretch. I wasn’t sure it could change into pleasure, but then he thumbed my clit again, and the feelings that exploded through my body could only be described as fireworks.
I shook, not just from the bursts of pleasure, but also from the feeling of ultimate surrender, of what this meant, of the way I was letting him claim every part of me.
“Breathe,” he said again, and only then did I realize I’d been holding my breath long enough to make my lungs scream. “You’re doing so well, Avery.” My name dripped from his tongue like honey, thick and sinful. “I’m so proud of you.”
Was the way my chest swelled a good thing?
He started to pull away, just an inch or two, before pushing back inside me. The aching sensation heightened, and my body tightened.
“Don’t fight me,” he growled like an animal about to lose control. I gasped when he rubbed my clit again, finding a steady pattern quickly. “That’s it, kitten. Let that pain melt into pleasure.”
His hips continued their movements. In and out. Slowly. Stretching me. The pain faded as the coil in my stomach tightened. I squeezed my eyes shut; everything was too much, too deep. I was too full. His hand wouldn’t stop moving, demanding my body to obey.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, his hips picking up into a steady, deliberate pace. “My little slut, so willing for me.”
My breath came out in ragged gasps, the sparks of pleasure quickly morphing into flames, threatening to consume me.
“I can feel it, Avery. Can you?” His voice was dark, gravelly, laced with possession. “Your body is giving in, practically begging me to ruin it, and I can’t say no. Tell me you want me to ruin you. Tell me to fuck your ass. Tell me to make you mine.”
“Please ruin me,” I begged. “Fuck my ass. Make me yours. Please, Michael.”
He thrusted a little harder, deeper, and I cried out, though it was more like a half-sob, half-moan as I tried to be quiet. My body didn’t know how to process all the sensations. The way his cock felt in my ass, his finger circling my clit. The way his free hand held my thigh, digging in, leaving marks, using my body as an anchor to fuck me. The way I was surrounded by his smell thanks to the mask covering my face.
Everything was building faster than I could handle.
And he knew it. His finger moved faster. He was going to drag the orgasm out of me whether I was ready or not.
“Come for me,” he growled. “I want you to break for me just like this: stuffed full, moaning like a dirty slut.” He paused, groaning as he drove his hips forward. “Give me what I want, Avery.”
I shattered for him, tears streaming down my face as wave after wave dragged me under, my body trembling uncontrollably. It wasn’t just an orgasm—it was an ultimate release, a fucking exorcism of emotions.
Michael was talking to me, soft and praising, but I couldn’t focus. It sounded like we were underwater. Only when my body started to come down did I hear him say, “That’s my good fucking girl. Look at you…Fuck. Look at what I do to you.”
I was still crying, still shaking, when he finally stilled inside me, buried deep, shuddering his own release, filling me with his cum.
He pulled out of me, wiped me clean, and laid down next to me. Once he untied my panties from my wrists, he pulled me to his chest. I buried my nose into his shirt, breathing him in.
And we stayed like that for a long time.
His arms locked around me. My leg slung over his, holding him tightly. His chest rising and falling, steady and warm, grounding me. My body still clenching, still feeling him inside me, like it refused to forget him.
He didn’t remove the mask, and I didn’t bother asking him to.
Because, in that moment, it didn’t matter who he was.
I belonged to him regardless, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to know him.
