Oh god, I didn’t need anymore.
“You tell me if hurts. I’m going to make your heart jump out of your chest.” He slipped a finger inside of me and pulled on my hair at the same time compelling a cry to heave from the back of my throat like a dying animal. Pure frenzy wrangled out any sane thought. I braced myself on the back of the couch, ready to be taken into oblivion by a crazed serial killer and his red heart-shaped sunglasses.
He let go of my hair and slid his finger out of me.
I looked over my shoulder, my lower lip protruding from the lack of his touch.
He got on his knees, holding my thighs open, kissing one of my ass cheeks and then the other.
“Beautiful,” he said.
My chest fluttered.
Before I had a moment to speak, he drove his mouth onto me, licking and sucking, slashing me to shards with just his lips and tongue. When finally, I was soaking, a touch of plastic pushed at my entrance. I knew already what it was: the arch of the sunglasses frame. He pushed until the first frame was in and I gasped at what was now inside of me.
Red, heart-shaped, sunglasses.
Years and years of those stupid things filled up all the territory of my thoughts. Years and years I had spent with my hands between my legs trying to conjure the imagery of them. Years and years I had bought hundreds of pairs of red heart-shaped sunglasses but none of them made my skin tingle because they were not his.
And here they were, his red heart-shaped sunglasses, my daydream and nightmare, finally here, finally mine, finally giving me the consequence of my feelings toward them.
“Princess.” Dig stood up, keeping one hand below on the sunglasses that were half inside of me. “Is that okay? Does that hurt? Do you like—”
“Don’t you stop or I’ll turn around and rip your face off!” I wouldn’t do that. I was a good person.
With his free hand, he held me around my waist, keeping me still. While he pressed a kiss to the back of my neck, he began to slip the next frame inside of me. I breathed through it, my brows knotting together, my head running with chaotic thoughts on how I would explain this to my therapist.
“Hold on tight.” Dig reached over and repositioned my hands, making sure I was locked against the couch properly. When he was certain I wouldn’t move again, he shoved the sunglasses in deeper.
I whined through the stretching pressure, keeping my legs open, wanting to be filled. He reached down between my legs and found my clit with his thumb, sweeping over it gently. The stinging pain from the sunglasses and the tender fondle over my clit with his thumb mixed into a recipe of touch that had me whining out a new chorus. Each time he pushed the sunglasses in deeper, he stroked my clit, swapping from pain to pleasure, pleasure to pain.
“You’re doing so good,” he said. “We’re halfway.”
“Only half?”
The pressure of the sunglasses had me close to wailing.
“You want to stop?”
“Don’t stop!”
“Here you go.” Dig’s voice was soft against my ear.
He pushed the last frame inside of me, the touch of his fingers along my entrance stroked my stretched skin. He waited a moment for me to adjust to the new sensation.
My eyes squeezed closed, savouring this moment. “I think there might be something wrong with me.”
“No, Delphine.” Warmth pooled against my neck from his whisper. “The only thing wrong with you, isme.”
I opened my eyes. “Huh?”
He pulled the sunglasses half out of me and pushed them back in.
All colours washed from the world, all sounds dispersed, all I could feel was him and his red heart-shaped sunglasses claiming territory over me, owning my pussy as if it had been made just for him.
The tension and pressure of the sunglasses filled me whole, and he began to fuck me. Pulling them out carefully and back in. My breathing turned rapid and serrated. I unravelled all strain in favour for cruel ecstasy, living and dwelling in this perfect moment.
“You like that?” he spoke through his breath and leaned over me while he fucked me with his sunglasses. Bringing up his hand, he touched my heart, feeling the adrenaline pulsing through my chest. “Oh, yeah, this is going to work.”
