40. Delaney
DELANEY
Ass.
He wants to fuck my ass.
I hear the animal in his voice, the threat hardening in his body.
My thighs tremble as the last shreds of my orgasm fly out my fingers.
I gasp around the word “yes” before I know I mean it, because there’s never been a more urgent need in my body than this.
“That’s my good bitch.”
He flips me like a pancake, and now I’m chest-down, cheek to the cold pillow, ass up. I claw at the bedsheets, trying to keep my bearings, but he doesn’t give me a second. He slaps both hands to my hips and pins me in place, and there’s nothing gentle about it.
He pulls my hips back until I feel him, big and thick through his jeans, rutting against my bare skin like he’s already buried inside me.
My breath goes shallow. I’m wet between my legs, but the sharp air on my asshole sends a ripple of nerves across my spine.
The clank of his buckle. Then the zing of his zipper.
He slides his fingers over my pussy, dipping them in two at a time.
“Fuck, you’re so wet, Delaney.” He breathes heavily. “I’ve never done this without lube before, but you’re all the lube I need.”
Then his fingers are on that forbidden place, massaging, and then probing.
“So tight,” he growls. “And all mine.”
I gasp as a finger breaches the rim.
At least he’s going slowly. After everything, I half expected him to just barge right in.
“So sweet and tight,” he whispers.
I gasp again as another finger slides in. He’s stretching me, and it’s painful…yet…
“Oh, God,” I whimper.
How does this feel good?
“That’s right,” Samson says. “Now you’re mine. All mine.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t move. All I can do is brace myself as he presses the fat head of his cock against the tightest part of me, forcing me to open for him.
“Samson…” I half-plead, half-growl.
It hurts. Christ, it hurts. But the pain is what I want, and he knows it, feels me shudder when the burn spikes behind my eyes.
“Easy,” he grits out. “You’re mine, Delaney. Take it.”
Once I’m used to the size, the pain dissipates.
And then he thrusts balls deep.
I scream. Or maybe I just think I do, because my mouth is wide but nothing comes out but a shuddering breath. Every cell in my body is stretched taut, screaming, alive and violated and owned.
Samson starts slow, grinding against the resistance, making sure I feel everything. Soon the pain blurs into something bigger, raw and strange and beautiful, and the next sound out of my mouth is a broken sob.
He moves faster, rougher, one hand braced on my tailbone, the other tangled in my hair. Every thrust shocks through me, flashes up my spine, and I want him everywhere, want to be full of him, want to break on the force of this animal need.
I slide my fingers between my legs, desperate for something to hold as the world slips out from under me.
“That’s it,” he rumbles. “You love it. You filthy fucking girl.”
I can only arch for him, meet every punishing thrust, let the sound of bodies and breath fill the room.
He leans over me, his chest burning against my back. “You make me crazy, Delaney. Now come again. Come for me. Now.”
And somehow, I do.
It’s a twist of sensation so sharp I break in half, pleasure and pain fusing. I clutch at the sheets and let him use me, let him fuck me until every thought is gone but the memory of his voice and the weight of him inside me.
I didn’t know it could be like this, didn’t know my body could become something else, a whole new instrument only he could play.
I can only surrender, can only splinter apart on the end of his cock while his hands keep me perfectly pinned.
He slows, rocks into me once, twice, and then pulls me sharply back with a fist in my hair so my head falls back on his shoulder. He’s panting like an animal, the rumble in his throat vibrating into my bones.
“Good girl,” he whispers as he scrapes my ear with his teeth. “Take all of me, every last inch.”
He doesn’t slow, doesn’t hold anything back now. With each thrust he spears deeper, pulling my hair so hard my scalp burns. I clutch at the sheets, my body stretched between agony and glory.
He’s not gentle. He’s not trying to be anything but savage, but that’s what I want. All that hunger, all that violence, sifted into me.
My hips are sore, my thighs shaking, but I stay spread, stay open, because I need him to finish this the way he started. He slams into me, and I feel the quake in his body, the low growl of surrender and the way he falls forward over me, his body grinding out the last furious beats of possession.
I’m still on my knees, dazed and aching and thrumming, when I realize I’m nearly crying.
Not in pain, not anymore.
Only an ache for what just happened, that I could want it so badly.
He collapses beside me, drawing me back in hard and fast. He lifts me so I’m lying half on his chest. I press my face into his neck and breathe in his salty scent.
He brushes my hair back, grazing my scalp with his fingers as if he’s checking to see if he’s broken the skin.
I want to tell him he hasn’t.
I want to tell him he could bite deeper and I’d still reach for him.
Instead I lie there, so ragged and spent I could dissolve into the mattress and be content to never get up again.
He says nothing. I say nothing.
That’s a first.
The world feels different afterward.
Like something that was held back is no longer contained.
I’m not standing at the edge anymore. I stepped over it.
I chose it.
I chose him.
I lie there for a moment, staring at nothing, feeling everything.
The house around us. The locked door. The key.
The truth sitting just out of reach.
And him.
Always him.
This isn’t just an investigation anymore.
It hasn’t been for a while.
I know that now.
I know it in a way I can’t undo.
I turn my head slightly. He’s there. Still. Watching. Not relaxed.
If anything, he’s more dangerous than before.
Because now he knows I’m not walking away.
And worse…
I know it too.
I should say something.
I don’t.
Because there’s nothing I can say that won’t make this more real than it already is. More permanent. More impossible to step back from.
So I don’t speak.
Neither does he.
But the silence between us is no longer empty.
It’s full of every line we just crossed.
And everything we haven’t even begun to understand.