Chapter 22
Gage
It occurs to me, when I’m close, so fucking close to slamming home, my weeping cockhead covered in Ami’s sweet cream from her soaked slit, that something has already changed.
I’m one hell of a na?ve bastard, because I knew that I wanted her from the second I saw her, walking down that aisle at our sham of a wedding, but I didn’t realize that I needed her.
Maybe it’s because I’ve spent my whole life without someone there to love me properly.
Or someone to love in return. I have my club brothers now, but that’s not the same kind of love.
I don’t want to say I’m desperate. Because I’m not.
If she asked me for time, I’d give her all the time in the world, just as long as she promised to be mine at the end of it.
I’d give her anything she asked for. I’d even sign those damn papers, if she needed me to.
I’d give her another year, happily, if she’d tell me that she was mine and she needed that shit to find herself, or whatever people said nowadays when they were confused and fucked up and needed a shred of inner peace.
As long as she’s mine at the end of it, I’m game.
I realize, as I thrust into her, as stars burst behind my closed eyes at her snug cunt closing all around my dick, pulsing and contracting before I even move, that I’m a thousand versions of pathetic. The problem is that I can’t bring myself to care.
Because she’s right.
As much as she’s mine, I’m equally hers.
I know it’s been no time at all. That we may have known each other for a year and it’s been a fraction of that time since she literally strolled right back into town, but beginnings are beginnings and a lifetime is a lifetime and that shit has to start at day one.
Our day one is already over and done. We’re moving at the speed of fucking light, but we have a hell of a lot of lost time to make up for.
“God… oh my god,” Ami pants, and I snap out of my thoughts, and what the hell am I doing thinking anyway, when I’m inside of her tight, hot heat and she’s clenching all around me, tight and fucking wondrous.
“Want you to say my name,” I growl.
My hands close around her hips, bracing her as I pull nearly all the way out and slam back home.
I’m not gentle. I don’t know how to be gentle.
If she asked me to, though, I’d figure it out real fucking fast, but my girl doesn’t ask for sweetness or flowers or poetry.
She wants me as hard and fast and as maddening as I want her.
“Want you to look between your legs and watch me fucking you. Watch my cock glisten with your juices when I pull out. Watch you take every single inch of me when I thrust back in. I want you to watch… so you know who’s fucking you, because I sure as hell am a lot of things, but I’m not god.”
“You’re an asshole,” she grinds out, but her neck snaps down and she whimpers when I pulse inside of her before pulling out nice and slow and sinking in just as slow, treating her to a real show.
Since her entire body rattles around me and her cunt squeezes tight, I do it again.
One more time and a volley of goosebumps dot her skin, raising the hair on her arms, which are straining to hold herself upright on the bed.
Her legs start trembling, her knees knocking against the edge of the bed, even when I hold her hips snug against me.
She wriggles, searching for the perfect spot, letting me hit all of her when I pull out. She takes me deeper on the next stroke, and deeper on the next, opening herself up to me, grinding and bucking and writhing like a wild animal while I drive into her.
Her breathing escalates, getting harder, violent, little sobbing gasps that rattle out of her chest and fill the air like the wet, slick sounds of our sex, our bodies slapping together, my thrusts so hard that my balls slap wetly against her folds every time I drive into her.
I fuck her hard, and when I feel her cunt tightening around my cock, nearly cutting off my damn circulation, I wrap my fist in her hair and tug her head back so I can reach her mouth.
I swallow her cries of pleasure as she shatters around me, her cunt rippling, pulsing, wrapping my cock in a death grip.
I’m nearly there, nearly thrusting up into her so far she’ll feel me in her stomach, but I’m not ready for this to end.
She came without me commanding her. She chased her own pleasure, pleasure I gave her, pleasure created together.
This time, this time she’s gonna come when I tell her to and not before.
This time, she’ll be ready to take direction without fear or resentment.
I let her take her pleasure, let her come down from her high, until she’s no longer trembling, just vibrating. I wait until her breathing is more than hard, gaspy sounding pants. And then I pull out, ripping her sweet aftermath away from her.
I nearly grin when Ami cries out in protest. God, she’s all fire. She might have dimmed for a while, but she’s back, burning bright.
“Want you on top,” I grind. “Want my own show now. I think that’s only fair, given that I was a nice guy and took care of you first.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“I wish I was. Would have been better for me growing up.”
She turns back to me, biting down on her lower lip, chewing it like she realized that her comment was pretty ill-timed. At any time. I let out a low chuckle that actually contains a little bit of mirth, just to assure that I’m not pissed.
“It’s alright. I have a tougher skin than that. Have to, making it on my own. I know what you meant.”
“What I should have said was something along the lines of patience being a virtue.”
My grin widens at that. This, at least, I can deal with. “I’ve never been overly virtuous, fortunately for you.”
“Fortunately?”
“Yeah. Because I’m about to spread out on that bed and let you use me how you see fit.
And by seeing fit, I want you on top my dick, finding your spot, riding me with your head tipped back and your eyes closed and your mouth parted in wonder as you struggle to draw a breath against all that pleasure closing up your throat.
I want to see you with your pupils blown, your perky tits bouncing against your chest, your nipples ripe and wet from my mouth.
I want to see you take my dick and grind down on me, dance and grind your way to another climax. ”
“I- I thought you…”
“Don’t worry about me. This is for you.”
“Last time was for me.”
“Every time is for you.”
She blinks at me like she can’t quite believe I’m real. I want to blink at myself. Last time I checked, I still had a dick and it was still hard and throbbing inside the tightest cunt in the entire fucking world, but I might have just traded in my man card, saying shit like that.
I pull out, my cock glistening with Ami’s juices.
Her thighs are wet, smeared with her cream, and I dip my finger in the warm trail and bring it to my lips, sucking it off and closing my eyes and humming in pleasure.
Ami’s eyes widen, and it shouldn’t be said that I’m a selfish man, so I trail my finger down her thighs again while she trembles, and brush it against her bottom lip, painting her with the sweet, glistening delicacy of her own luscious arousal.
I take my time walking past her, giving her a full view of everything I’ve never shown anyone else. Her eyes trace every detail, her gaze scalding my skin. I spread out on the bed, tucking my arms behind my head, waiting for her.
She stare at me like I’m a predator about to strike.
The hunter who cornered his prey. Like I’m trying to trick her somehow, by giving her the power for the moment.
What she doesn’t understand is that it’s well worth it.
She’s a goddess and when I said I wanted a show, I was serious.
I can’t think of anything better than watching her while I make her come all over my cock again.
After a minute, her lips press together.
Her tongue sweeps out to wet her lips before she climbs onto the bed and crawls towards me.
There’s a high chance that I’ll die from pleasure before she even gets on top of me and takes me inside of her, but I’m not going to complain.
She’s wondrous, her hair shining in the daylight, spilling down her shoulders.
The golden glow from the edges of the blinds illuminates her flawless skin.
Yes, I see the word inked on her stomach.
No, it’s not pretty, but it doesn’t matter.
It never mattered to me in that way. It mattered in the way that I wanted justice.
Wanted to kill the bastard who dared to hurt her.
Dared to touch what was mine, even before she knew I existed.
Now that I’ve done it, my rage spent and simmering, when I look at her, I just see her.
I see a survivor. A beautiful woman who fought the hardest battle within herself and is still here, learning how to live and breathe and maybe even love again.
My lips press together and I focus on my cock, since it’s easier to stare at my hard on, beads of precum glistening at the tip and rolling down the thick length, than it is to think about anything associated with that word.
It’s a word I’ve never known or understood.
So I’ll stick with this. Although, this—feeling like this—it’s foreign to me too and doesn’t feel safe.
It’s like trying to teach yourself how to breathe under water.
“You look like you’re thinking about something,” Ami teases me gently, her own brow furrowed, as she spreads her beautiful shapely legs and sits down on my abs. She carefully avoids my throbbing cock, teasing me in her own way, and fuck, it’s sexy that she trusts me enough to do this.
“Just about you.”
“About me?” Her tongue sweeps out over her lips again and I barely resist the urge to drag her face to my mouth and bite her there, hard, just to lick the blood away after.
“Yeah. About you. About you and me and how it feels fucking good.”