Something that didn’t appeal to me this morning, but is now what I need.
What I have to have.
My finger slides inside her, a slow, deliberate invasion. Her gasp is sharp, her body clenching around me. I pause, letting her adjust, then begin to move, a slow, in-and-out rhythm that has her writhing on the bed.
She's so tight. Hot. Wet. I can feel the way she tightens around me, her body fighting off the intrusion.
Another finger joins the first, stretching her, preparing her.
My thumb finds her clit, pressing down, circling the sensitive nub. Her back arches off the bed, a strangled cry escaping her lips. Her hands tighten on the headboard, her knuckles white. She's so close. I can feel it in the way her body tenses, in the frantic, shallow gasps of her breath.
I speed up my rhythm, my fingers pumping into her, my thumb working her clit. Her head is thrown back, her lips parted, her eyes squeezed shut.
“Is this what you want?” I ask, my voice a low purr.
She doesn't answer. She can't. Her body is a taut bowstring, poised on the edge of release.
"Answer me," I demand, my thumb pressing down harder.
A sob escapes her lips, a raw, broken sound. "Yes, sir," she says, the words a surrender. "Oh God, yes."
The confession is a trigger. Her body convulses, her orgasm ripping through her. Her back arches off the bed, her inner walls clamping down on my fingers, a series of desperate, shuddering waves of pleasure.
I don't stop. I keep my fingers moving, my thumb working her clit, drawing out her orgasm, pushing her past the point of pleasure into a realm of overwhelming sensation. Tears stream down her cheeks; her body wracked with sobs of release.
It's beautiful.
She's beautiful.
And she's all mine.
I wait until her body goes limp, her breath coming in ragged, exhausted gasps. Then I slowly withdraw my fingers.
She’s a wreck. Her hair is a tangled mess, her face stained with tears, her body flushed and trembling. She’s never looked more beautiful.
I lick my fingers clean, tasting her thoroughly. Before the end of the night, I’ll have tasted directly from her.
I stand up, my movements unhurried. My gaze sweeps over her, a proprietary gleam in my eyes. I’ve claimed her, marked her, made her mine.
I unbuckle my belt, the metallic click a loud, ominous sound in the quiet room. Her eyes, dazed and confused, follow my movements. She knows what’s coming. The fear is back in her eyes, wild and desperate.
I unbutton my trousers, letting them pool around my ankles. My cock springs free, hard, heavy, and demanding.
Her eyes widen, her breath catching in her throat. She’s scared. I can see it in the way her body tenses, in the way her hands tighten on the headboard.
Good.
I kick my trousers aside, then position myself over her, my body covering hers. I’m braced on my elbows, my weight resting onher, but not crushing her. I want her to feel me, to be aware of my presence, of the power I hold over her.
I look down at her, at the wide, terrified blue of her eyes, at the trembling curve of her lips.
I lower my head, my lips claiming hers in a possessive kiss. I pour all of my frustration, my anger, and my lust into this one kiss, branding her with my need.
My hand slides down her body, exploring the soft curves of her waist, the gentle swell of her hips. I grip her thigh, lifting her leg, wrapping it around my waist. The position opens her to me, a vulnerable, trusting surrender.
I position my cock at her entrance, the slick head nudging against her wet folds. She flinches, a small, involuntary movement.
But I don't enter her, not yet. I move my hips against hers, sliding my length through her slick heat, coating myself in her arousal. Her breath hitches, her body arching into mine, seeking more.
