“Razor, maybe we-oh, my-” a miserable moan drives my head back into the pillow, his wet, silky tongue drawing my clit into an expert suction.
I sink my fingers into his soft hair, encouraging his mouth to keep working me, my hips rolling to fight for the solace he’s manipulating me with.
He smiles against me, breaking the hold on my clit and covering my entire boob with his palm, squeezing and kneading the tender tissue, reopening the mark he cut into me earlier. “Fuck, you’re such a mess already.”
I look down at him, meeting his carnivorous eyes and watching him tease me back into his mouth. I’m aware I’m a disgrace for him. I know I’m a mess. I feel it. It’s dripping down my butt.
All I can answer with is a whine and a nod, my stomach wavering and tensing, accepting the pressure of rehabilitation housing within me.
Black collapses my view, writhing and panting, filling the room with moans of his name and unintelligible pleas.
He grips me harder, bruising the muscle and fat folded over my hip, his other hand smoothing up my chest and collaring my throat.
Pressure on either side of my neck pumps my head with air, the slow hiss of what feels like helium crashing my sight and heightening the drop he’s about to send me flying on.
His tongue is slow and controlled, the complete opposite of the assertive, claiming grip he has on me. Everything becomes dependent. My oxygen. My blood flow. The burn of the orgasm spiraling in my nerves.
“Please. Please-please-please-pleeaase,” I whine hoarsely, bucking my hips, making myself an absolute freak show for the chemical rush I’m addicted to.
And then it’s consuming me. Without mercy.
My jaw unhinges, letting out the strained cries of escaping purgatory. I grab his hair harder, the frenzy eating through my legs and shaking them, the pleasure cutting up through my stomach with a hot, blissful knife.
Like the free bleed of a strummed chord, my body sings, floating in effervescence.
Still holding me with power, he relaxes the noose on my neck and turns his mouth to my trembling thigh, kissing and nipping, licking the glaze of sweat from my skin.
I pant, blinking through the lens blurring my vision, my lips puffy with sparks. “I only want this with you.”
I say it before I think it.
I’m not even sure what I mean. Maybe it was meant to be a subconscious conversation with the guilt I carry for kissing Ora. Or the way I briefly fantasized about her.
He bites me harder, roughly coasting his palm down my stomach, our mixed sweat making the glide slick. Then, he’s bringing his thumb to my clit and toying with me, surging a line of electricity up the path he just rubbed down my navel.
I jolt, removing my sore hands from his hair and grabbing my boobs, thinking he’s gonna keep playing with me until another orgasm is negating my internal destruction.
But he’s retracting his teeth from the grooved imprint he left, climbing up my body with wet lips and shadowed eyes, his arm dipping the mattress beneath my shoulder.
“What happened to you not wanting to kiss me? Huh?” he whispers, turning his head and crushing my mouth with his, hungrily biting my bottom lip and pulling it away from my teeth. “You gonna take that away from me, fuck bunny?” Grinding his stiff cock up my clit, he squeezes my hip again, going back in for another kiss he can’t refuse.
A whine shakes my throat, feeling around his strong sides and over the patches of raised scar tissue on his back. “I want you to hurt me physically. Not mentally,” I answer him, my hot, airy words getting trapped between us.
Ensnaring his eyes to mine, he hooks under my knee, opening me even more and hiking my leg higher—and he tenderly brushes a knuckle down my jaw. “Thenlet metake care of you. All of you.”
Concrete fills my chest. It waters my eyes and thickens my throat, my stomach flipping from the nerves of him rocking back, the tip of his dick sliding against my wet entrance.
I swallow hard. Then, I’m stretching.
My jaw shakes loose, and he gnashes his teeth, his prominent muscles protruding with a tic that has a growl rumbling low in his chest.
“Force?” he grits out, slowly easing inside me. “You begged me to force you, but look at you, Bunny. You’re takin’ it like you fuckin’ need it.”
Accommodating his shape, my breath gets trapped in my frozen lungs, blurrily going in and out from how violent the need for him to go deeper is destroying me.
The pressurized stretch runs tingles up my pelvis, around my hips and up my stomach. I still can’t breathe. I’m stuck, trying to focus on the pleasure written on his face in the warm light.
“Breathe,” he exhales, dipping his mouth down to my throat, taking his time sinking into me.
