Chapter Twenty-Two Larissa #3
But what if … Jealousy wins as I claw his skin in retaliation, fighting back in the only way I know how—intent on making sure he can’t see any more foolish emotion from me.
It’s his kiss that erases all thoughts of anyone else as he continually consumes me.
When I again match his hungry, breath-stealing licks, he breaks away, staring down at me. “You still want this?”
Hands roaming over the corded muscles of his neck, I gaze up at him and nod.
“You’re not as smart as I thought you were,” he slings as he bends to lower my sweats and panties.
“Says the man who’s about to fuck me,” I snap, kicking them away before doing a quick maneuver that has us both tumbling onto the floor. Within a breath, I’m straddling him and running my bare pussy along his dick.
Eyes firing with heat, he lets out a low chuckle.
“I bet that stung like a bitch.” He stifles any reply I might have by thrusting a finger into my mouth as I aggressively start riding the ridge of his cock.
In a flash, I’m back on the linens as he leans down menacingly.
“No more, or you’re going to hurt yourself. ”
“Careful,” I rasp as he lowers a hand between my legs and runs a finger through my pussy lips before adding another. “If you say things like that, I might start thinking you care about me.”
“You’d be fucking wrong,” he claps back, thrusting his fingers into me so deeply that my back bows.
Unable to hide the discomfort, I let out a small gasp.
“Jesus, you’re tight,” he grits out as he continues to finger me until I’m nothing but moans.
I’ll stop breathing before I beg—that he won’t get.
That will be what stops this. He continually runs his finger inside me, flicking the same spot over and over until I’m covered in a sheen of sweat, chasing the high the movement brings me.
I’m just about to tumble over when he flips me, carefully lifting me to all fours.
“Face on the mattress. Spread yourself for me.”
I hesitate, the mere idea of the act so damned degrading, I weigh whether it’s worth it. He wants to demean me, to make it clear that this means nothing, and his subsequent words confirm it.
“Your little vanilla blowjob was nice and all, but I’ll take it from here.” He runs the thick head of his massive cock along my entrance as my damned moan betrays me. “Show me, or this ends,” he threatens.
Cheek to the blanket, I reach back and spread myself apart, humiliation stinging my face. With one order, he debased me and flipped our pecking order back in his favor. Even in bed, he’s considering this a game, and at that moment, I hate him for it.
“Jesus, you’re fucking flawless,” he utters, seeming mystified as he runs the fat head of his cock between my ass cheeks down to my entrance. Teasing me with his head—the ache to be filled unbearable—I damn near stop breathing as his words register. “I don’t have any condoms.”
“I’m clean.”
“And I should trust you?” he scoffs.
“Yes,” I hiss. He presses his thick head into me, and we both still a second before he voices a raw “fuck it.” With one thrust, he buries the whole of his massive cock inside me.
Turning, I smother the scream that leaves me into the blankets as his cock grows impossibly harder, stretching me past the point of pain and into a space I’ve never been.
With the feel of our fit, he goes deathly still.
“What … the fuck—” He starts to pull out of me, and I reach back and grip his hip to stop him.
“I’m not a virgin,” I hiss through the pain, “don’t flatter yourself in thinking so.”
“You’re not.” His panting increases, the crack in his control clear in his voice as he speaks. “You’re not fucking ready for me. Nowhere near it.”
He couldn’t be more wrong. I’m the wettest I’ve ever been in my life, but it’s the sheer size of him that has my lower half seizing from the invasion, my thighs shaking as I spur him on.
“Like you care. Fuck you—move,” I croak, unable to save face despite my words. “Now,” I whimper, on the verge of mewling. Begging. Something I refuse to do, even now. As if sensing my resignation, he rears back and is barely able to fit himself back in.
“Jesus Christ, it’s … Larissa, what, what the fuck is this?”
“Move, now. I will die if you don’t. Move, Tyler. Now.”
He again pulls back to the tip and pauses, slowly inching forward, and I know he’s looking for deception. A second later, I’m filled again, and I damn near collapse at the full feel of him.
“Hold yourself open for me,” he grits out, his recovery in the lust coating his voice.
I can feel him teetering on the edge of something primal, and I’m almost too terrified to tip him over.
I’ve never been so full or felt so much at once.
It’s an exquisite sort of pain, and it’s all I can do to keep from pinching my clit and coming.
He thrusts in a third time, and I know then that he has his limit and is close to reaching it.
His fingers bite into the skin of my ass as he curses and pulls out before rolling me onto my back and slowly sinking between my legs.
Eyes locked, chest heaving, his eyes somehow find mine in the dark as he slowly teases my entrance.
Too far gone to even think about turning back, I start to utter my protest.
“What are you—”
My answer is a possessive kiss as he thrusts into me. My back bows at the invasion, my nipples grazing the wall of his chest. He feeds greedily as I grow just as frenzied, matching every thrust of his tongue while lifting my hips for more. Ripping his lips away, he glares down at me.
“Jesus, fuck, stop,” he grits out, seeming exasperated. It’s then that I know our divine connection is besting him, and he’s fighting it.
Gripping my leg, he pulls it up to his hip and begins slowly thrusting into me.
The stretch is a lot less brutal but still manages to send shock waves throughout my body.
As he continues, he begins to ease in and out of me with less resistance while increasing his pace.
It’s when he bottoms out that I stop matching his hips, and his eyes flare.
“Too late,” he snaps, tearing through me as if it’s his right.
“Open for me,” he orders, and I obey, widening my thighs as he rises, rolling his gaze slowly down to watch himself disappear inside me—eyes trained on where we connect.
With the slight shift of his hips, we both cry out at the pleasure as he runs his cock along my clit.
I immediately start to buckle, on the verge of implosion.
Sensing it, his eyes snap to mine as our mouths part, the friction becoming only more surreal.
My world tilts as I begin to shudder with the onslaught.
Listening to my body, I adjust my hips as he continually strokes me perfectly inside and out.
“Fuck, fuck,” he groans as he starts to fuck me, his groan echoing my cries with every deep, exaggerated drag of his cock. Every single roll of his hips, every targeted thrust torpedoes me toward the edge of something otherworldly as I toss my head back.
When I croak his name, his eyes flicker with satisfaction before he groans in what sounds like defeat. My legs start to shake uncontrollably as my needy clit begins to spark, my lower half coiling as a thrum fills my body.
My legs fall open as I allow myself to go lax, riding the pleasure and pain as he invades, taking possession of whatever remains.
Lips parted, both of us covered in sweat, I gaze up at the man made of metal and realize that I’ll never feel this good again.
Not in the whole of my life will sex ever feel this fucking good.
Before now, I never quite understood what my mother meant.
It’s then I realize this connection, this feeling consuming me—us—is precisely what the stars are made of.
Just as I think it, he pulls out of me and I’m being lifted by his palm and forearm.
As I go to protest, I’m yanked to his mouth before he begins thrusting his tongue into me.
I lose all control, my cries and moans mixing as I grip the blankets, fisting them in my hands.
Bucking my hips, I grind against his frenzied mouth as he noisily licks my pussy before gliding his tongue up to suck my clit and ripping the orgasm from me.
Euphoria washes over me as I explode into a mix of tremors, my cries echoing inside my own ears as wave after wave seizes me.
My body trembles and jerks as I succumb to every sensation.
He licks me through it, thrusting his fingers in while jack-hammering his tongue, absorbing pulse after pulse.
The second I’m able to gather my bearings, I watch his eyes slam closed before he turns me on my good side.
Facing me away from him, he palms my thigh to rest my leg over his hip and drives back into me.
We both cry at the new friction, the connection impossibly richer, my orgasm soaking us both where we meet as he begins to brutally pound into me. Every stroke punishing ecstasy.
“Jesus … fuck,” he croaks, gripping my neck with bruising fingers while using his others to manipulate my clit.
Thrust. Flick. Thrust. Flick. Thrust. Flick.
In seconds, I’m coming again, moaning uncontrollably as he crushes me to him while biting into my neck.
With the added pain, I shriek as the orgasm intensifies, trembling in his arms. With that, I feel the final snap in him.
His thrusts start to become erratic, his control gone as he pushes me onto my stomach.
Ignoring the pained cry that leaves my lips, he buries himself with each thrust. Hands gripping my ass painfully, he jackhammers into me until my pulse fills my ears, my body trembling.
His breaths and our mixed sounds fill the tent as he drives me into the pile of blankets until I’m screaming on every exhale.
“God, oh, fucking … oh fucking—God,” I shriek, my voice giving out as another powerful orgasm unfurls throughout my limbs and I go blind with pleasure.
“J-Jesus … f-fucking … Christ,” Tyler stutters out before stilling, his long groan just as stunted as he ruts into me, his slick chest trembling violently at my back.
The pleasure and pained sounds coming from him are surreal as he comes apart behind me, inside me.
Gripping the back of my neck, he grits out his order.
“Come,” he beckons, “come now.” His order sounds more like a plea as I topple over.
The roar he releases rings my ears as he grips my hips and unleashes hell.
His cry of release fills my entire being, the tent, and the fucking woods around us as he empties into me.
The feel of it setting me alight all over again.
Seconds after his body stills behind me, he collapses partially atop me, still pumping so hard that he prolongs my release.
The tent quiets in comparison to the steady pulse in my ears as our erratic breathing meshes while I grapple with what just transpired between us. It’s then that I realize I’m twitching in aftermath. What I just experienced with him far surpassing anything I’ve ever felt.
A long minute passes, maybe less, and I swear I feel the light caress of fingertips while soft lips faintly brush my shoulder.
Unsure if I imagined it—my reality distorted beyond comprehension—it’s as I come further to that sound starts to register.
As I attempt to gather what fragments of myself are left, Tyler’s warmth and weight disappear from my back.
A stuttered heartbeat later, I come to my senses, into myself, and into the truth of what just happened. For him—nothing.
The light rustling of his clothes tells me I might regret my decision, and soon, but only because … who in the hell fucks like that?
Regret because I know no one will ever be able to match that.
Even with my very limited experience, I know my chemistry with him isn’t something I can recreate with just any man.
It’s then I curse the fucking fate that has me sincerely loathing the man who can make me feel so much … so fucking good.
Remorse for willing it to happen because, in feeling it, I already want to do it again. And again. With him. A man who wouldn’t have lost an ounce of sleep if Julien had seen fit to take my life tonight.
My idiocy in wanting him reaching new heights as the sound of his zipper marks the end of my chance in ever gaining that feeling again.
A new addiction cut short. Within another steadied breath, Tyler disappears from the tent like the earth didn’t just shift.
Like heaven didn’t exist between our conjoined bodies, even as he unleashed his own brand of hell.
More regret for allowing it, because he couldn’t have possibly felt what I just did.
If he did, he’d be equally hungry and unable to move, just as in awe of what happened and starving for more.
If he felt what I did, leaving the tent—me—wouldn’t be possible.
But he couldn’t have felt what I did, because I’ve already been dismissed. Used as promised.
The truth rings clear in his absence as I stare into the dark under the weight of the whole of it—that if Tyler truly did want to fuck me out of his system tonight, he most likely accomplished his mission.