Page 20 of Shatter

When he's finally finished, he pulls out slowly, dragging the head of his cock across my tongue.

I've come, but I feel hollow and empty. He moves around to the other side of the bed and gently grips my ankles, pulling me so my head is resting on the mattress again.

I want to fight him, kick him, for moving me like a Goddamn doll, but I can't.

Because he's looking at me like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. My hair must be a wreck. My face must be a wreck, but the softness in his eyes is alarming. I'm sobbing, now. Overwhelmed and unsatisfied and sorry for myself.

"Do you ache?" he asks and I nod. "What do you need?" he asks, his voice as soft as if he were speaking to a baby.

I shake my head, sobbing, because I don't know.

"Stay there."

So, I do.

When he comes back, he kneels on the mattress next to me and gently cleans my face with a washcloth. My tears have slowed, my head is fuzzy, but I don't think they've stopped.

When he's finished, he rests a hand on my cheek.

"There's my Little Bird," he says with such softness it makes it hard to look at him. "I know what you need," he says, but before I can ask or argue with him, he's lifted me by my hips and flung me towards the headboard, rotating so he's lying on his back.

"Ride my face."

I start to shake my head 'no', but he smacks my hip.

"Do you trust me?" he asks from somewhere below me.

I nod my head, even if he can't see it.

"Then ride my face."

I grip the headboard and lower myself onto his face. His tongue pierces me and I moan. I've just come, so I'm achy and sensitive, and his tongue feels amazing, but it's not enough. I'm not going to fake it for any man, even if Harrison is the only man whose confidence I do care about. So, I let him build me back up.

I start to rotate my hips, seeking more - more contact, more pleasure... just... more.

I can feel the frustration in me rise as my orgasm builds but still feels too far away, like it'll never get here.

But before I can complain, Harrison's lifting me again, and slamming my hips down onto his, impaling me on his cock. We groan in unison at the stretch. At how fucking good he feels. This. This is what I needed. We start off rough, both needy and anxious. His hips slam up to meet mine as I grind on him. It hurts in that perfect way.

But when I open my eyes and see his, already watching me, something changes.

The hurry fades away. I rest my hands on his shirt, realizing he's still wearing it.

I'm sweating, breathless, but I tug on it.

"I want this gone."

Without hesitation he leans up and pulls it off, all while staying inside me.

Our movements slow as I trace my hands over his chest and abs. I rock back and forth slowly. Somehow, this morphed from a kinky punishment, to a quick fuck, to... are we making love?

I rock again, this time not caring about how close or far my orgasm is. I want this to last forever.

Harrison's watching me as much as I'm watching him. And while his gaze roams my chest, he doesn't linger there, and I appreciate that about him. His hands roam up my sides, over my breasts, down my arms.

And when he laces his fingers through mine, I know I'll never be the same.

Because how could I?