He stands again and without warning, the pressure is back but it’s harder now as he pushes into me. He exhales, waiting there.
I take my bottom lip between my teeth, and my eyes squeeze shut. My legs are still suspended; they’re beginning to shake harder, but I barely notice because it’s taking all my concentration not to give in to the beg of my hips. My insides want this, to pull him deep and keep him there. But I don’t. “Please don’t,” I whisper. “I’ll do anything. I’ll be better.”
He anchors my hips to the mattress and thrusts hard, burying himself in me. I cry out just as suddenly, wiggling into the mattress, straining against my restraints.
“Oh, God,” I bawl. “My virginity.”
“Mine.” He stares down at my face as his chest heaves with deep breaths. My body adjusts to this thick piece of him that feels both foreign and familiar. When the pain lessens, I yearn for a soothing touch to replace it; hands on my face, a kiss, anything. He’s watching me so intensely that I think he might give me what I want, but his hips drag back instead and when he slides back into me, his abs flex.
“I’ve never had such a tight pussy.” He draws back again and thrusts harder. I squeal with each pinch of pain. As his rhythm increases, he falls forward onto extended arms. “I’m going to ruin you for every other man,” he says with gritted teeth. “You hear me?” His eyes fix on my chest, watching my breasts bounce with each contact of our hips. “Lock your ankles behind me.” It’s with relief that I rest my legs at the base of his back. “That’s it,” he groans. “God, I want this. To fuck you so bad.”
I’m overwhelmed with it all, the profound fullness of me, the rawness of his skin on mine, the shackle that keeps me from touching him. “But you are,” I say.
“This isn’t fucking,” he says. I gasp with a deep plunge, my head falling to the side. My cheek presses into the comforter to see his hand fisting it.
“What?” I ask, only half-aware.
“When I fuck you, you’ll know it.” One hand moves to my breast, and I yelp as he pinches and pulls my nipple. “You’re melting like butter.”
I am. I’m dissolving into the bed beneath me as a fierce and unrelenting force builds inside me. Each echo of a spasm draws me deeper into the recesses of pleasure.
“What is this?” I ask just above a whisper. “I need it.”
“Need what?”
“Fucking.”
He already fills me so hard and so deep that I can’t believe what I’m asking for. I brace myself for something that doesn’t come. Instead, he’s withdrawing, and I’m grasping desperately, my body and my mind, for what I’m losing. He steps back, his hardness glistening and bobbing between us.
“Why?” I ask. “Why are you stopping?”
He raises a menacing eyebrow at me. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here, Cataline. Get off the bed. I want you on your knees.”
It takes a moment for his command to reach me. I wriggle to the edge of the bed, but it’s so high that my feet don’t reach the floor. While he stands still as a statue, I slide over the edge and fall onto the ground.
“Faster,” he says. “Come here so I can stuff that smart mouth.”
At the hardness in his voice, I begin to tremble. My body contorts, and my ass juts into the air. I get on my knees as quickly as possible. I’m tempted to retreat under the bed and hide there until he leaves, but he looks just angry enough to snap if I disobey. I crawl to him. One hand finds the back of my head, and he presses his smooth head to my lips with the other. “Wider,” he says when they part.
He slides in, coaxing me open all the way, groaning as his shaft forces down my tongue and coats my mouth with my own sharp, metallic flavor. “I’m saving your pussy for last,” he says. “I bet you taste like goddamn cotton candy. Tell me how sweet you are.”
I flinch as I choke a response, my eyes watering. My wrists burn from fighting to get free. He uses my mouth faster, rumbling his approval. His eyes don’t leave me until he shuts them briefly and bites his lip.
He pulls out suddenly with an audible pop and grabs himself, pumping furiously. I wrench and twist my face, but he jerks my head back into place by my hair and comes on my mouth and chin. I try again to duck, but I’m immobile as he spurts all over my neck and collarbone, his cum dripping down my breasts. My cheeks flame, but the low, unearthly noise he makes almost sounds like a laugh.
19
Calvin
Below me, Cataline sits back on her calves. Her hair seems midnight blue in the semi-dark as it falls messily over her shoulders. In a raw moment like this, it’s easy to read the fear in her eyes.
Her body is sticky with me. Soon enough I’ll regret what I’ve done and what I’m going to do, but now, she is my wet dream come to life. And I’m hardening into steel again just from looking at her.
“Fucking.”
That word from her mouth will haunt me in the best and worst ways. I want to. I want to tie her to the bed and fuck the piss out of her until she begs me to stop. Then I want to flip her over and claim her tight ass like I did her pussy and her mouth until she milks me dry. I step away from her. Norman was right. I will destroy this girl.
“Stand up,” I tell her.
She looks at the floor a moment, thinking. Without her hands to balance, getting to her feet is a struggle.
“Earlier you asked me to fuck you.”
“I didn’t ask—”
“Do you still want me to?”
Her eyes dart from side to side as she chews on her lip. She blinks to my already stiff cock and away just as fast. I’m sick for the way I love watching her fight herself. Her thighs squeeze together discreetly. “No.”
“No? You look like you want to come.”
She shakes her head.
“You don’t want to come?”
“If I did, I would do it myself.”
My eyes roll back into my head, and I have to touch my dick to ease the ache. I recognize the grit in my voice for what it is when I respond, “I’d love to see that, Sparrow.”
She frowns. “What?”
I swipe my jeans from where they’re heaped on the floor.
“Can you untie me before you go?” she asks quickly, as though she isn’t sure she’s allowed. I watch her as I step into my pants unhurriedly and pull them up around my hips. “Please?” she adds. I zip them but leave the button undone.
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” I say and back up with my eyes locked on her.
She blinks at me adorably as she shifts on her feet, and her shoulders twist, trying to free her hands. I turn to grab the desk chair and set it a few feet from the bed. I fall back in it with an ankle over one knee and sweep my hand out in front of me. “By all means. Do it yourself.”
Tears instantly leak from the corners of her widened eyes. She shakes her head hard, her hair cascading like a chocolate waterfall. I let myself have this moment. Stripped in front of me, I can’t help, don’t want to help, my gaze from scanning every inch of her. She’s leaner than I imagined, or, I wonder, has that happened since she’s come here? Her hair falls long past her shoulders, grazing over the mounds of her breasts so just her pink nipples push through. Her breasts—she’s hidden them well over the years. I’ve fantasized about them beneath the unflattering button-downs she wore in the office. They’re bigger, fleshier than the blouses let on. Her waist sucks in, her hips flare, her tummy is flat and taut. She has a small bush, and I wonder if she’s always kept it that way or just since she’s been here. I wish I’d checked the moment she arrived. I want to know what that pussy looks like completely bared for my mouth. I want to lick her and show her how good it can be, but first I want to shave her.