I can't see for the burst of stars in my vision, can't breathe as he fucks me hard, relentless, every thrust driving me up the bed. The creaking, protesting bed, the headboard slamming against the wall. Every gasp's effort at oxygen is useless--he thrusts again, knocking the air out of me. He leans down without slowing his pace, burying his face in my neck, teeth finding my pulse. He bites, groaning into it when I cry out, my pussy clenching around him.
Bite, suck, mark--each time he does it makes me wetter, hotter, until I can't separate pain from pleasure anymore. His cock pounding into me, his teeth in my flesh, his hands gripping. The heat coils in my belly, winding tighter, tighter.
"That's right," he mutters, adjusting his angle, pulling me closer, bringing his pelvis to grind against my clit with every thrust. Electricity shoots from the point of contact. I can't escape it, everything converging, the coil about to snap, about to break.
It's about to shatter--he bites my shoulder, his teeth sinking into the junction of my neck.
A scream rips from my throat, raw and broken, my back bowing off the bed, my whole body locking, the orgasm slamming through me. Pulsing to the rhythm of his cock, my pussy clamping down on him like a vice. I can feel every inch of him as I contract, pulse after pulse, so intense it almost hurts. I can't see, my vision white, ears ringing, can't breathe, his teeth in my flesh anchoring me to my body.
He works me through it with every thrust until I'm trembling with aftershocks, sweat slicked and flushed, wrecked completely.
Only then does he let go of my neck, kissing the heat with his tongue, then looks down at me with dark, satisfied eyes and a smirk.
"That's one."
Oh, fuck.My eyes go wide, my pussy clenching around him.
He groans when he feels it, impossibly hard inside me, looking at me like he's going to consume me. I can barely move and he wants more?
Let's fucking go.
I've never been so happy to be in so much trouble.
In a dizzying flash, he pulls out with a slickness and a filthy, wet sound, leaving me shockingly empty. Aching. Wanting and whimpering, my pussy clenching like it's trying to pull him back in. My thighs tremble. I can't close them.
He doesn't ask, doesn't wait for me to move--hands on my pliant body, he flips me over. The world spins, leaving me dizzy and disoriented, my vision blurry and head fuzzy, and I'm on my stomach, face in a pillow.
"On your hands and knees." His voice is commanding, rough. It's not a request.
My body responds before my brain, wanting to obey. I try to get my knees under me, but my muscles are jellified. My arms shake--I can barely hold myself up and give up, flopping back onto the pillow, his jersey gathering in my armpits. My ass is in the air. It's the best I can do.
"Is this okay?" I say with a mushmouth.
His hands are all over my ass, kneading and spreading and pulling. "God, you're fucking gorgeous. Fucking perfect. But are you too tired? Do we need to--"
"No!" I snap. "God no, I've been dying to get railed, so please, rail me."
He makes that animal noise again, and my pussy comes to life at the sound. With firm hands, he grips my hips, spreading my legs, shifting me so I'm where he wants me. I'm shaking everywhere, exposed, open,waiting.I can't see him, the lack of senses and anticipation amplifying every touch. His hands fondle my ass, possessive and appreciative. It's so much more intense like this, not being able to see, and I whimper needfully, wondering when he'll touch my pussy, needing him to touch me, the anticipation building. I'm aching and empty--how did he do that already?--desperate for--
The head of his cock is hot and hard, nudging my entrance, teasing and testing and then, with one firm stroke, he fills me up.
I press into the pillow with a shocked gasp. --Somehow he keeps finding ways to get deeper inside me. My thighs tighten, hands fisting the sheets, and I gasp from the glorious pain, backing off him a little because holy shit. Any deeper and I'll taste latex.
My groan is muffled by the pillow. My body is trying to make room, pussy clenching around him, every nerve on fire, still sensitive from my first orgasm.
"Breathe, baby," he soothes, his restraint hanging by a thread, hands gripping my hips. The second I do--a sad, shaky, ragged thing--he says, "Good girl. Now, hold on."
It's a warning and a promise
A beat of silence. I grip the sheets, my body tensing, a single, shallow breath--
He slams into me.
My cry is sharp and shocked, my body jolting forward from the force--I'd collapse if his hands weren't iron on my hips, holding me in place, holding me up. The angle is devastating, deeper than should be possible, and I can feel him everywhere--in my stomach, in my lungs, in my soul.
He fists the hem of his jersey, using it like reins to pull me back onto him. "My name on your back," he growls. "Everyone's gonna know who you belong to."
The pace is brutal, unforgiving, each thrust driving me forward, his grip dragging me back. I'm not in control of anything--my body, the sounds it makes, my mind. The wet slap of skin is obscene and perfect, loud in the room, mixing with my gasping cries and his grunts. I try to shift away, not from pain but from the intensity--too deep, can't think--but his hands lock me in place.
