Chapter 16 #2
He braced himself with one hand, smoothing the other over my hip, dusting across my shoulder and wrapping around my throat. My cock throbbed, chasing away the spike of panic that threatened to rise. André squeezed my pulse points, and I milked another drop of precome to the sheets.
Oh, so you like the choking now—kinky bitch.
I begged. I begged like I’d never begged for anything in my life.
The more I wanted to come, the louder I pleaded.
It wasn’t long before my head started to spin, and I was about to erupt.
André only increased his thrusts and when he fell uneven, I knew we were both close. Dark spots dotted my vision.
“Please!” I cried out, fucking the bed as hard as I could. The more desperate I grew for oxygen, the more I wanted to explode. “Dear God, please, please, please, please…”
I chanted like a prayer, looking up to meet André’s eyes in the mirror. He smiled, peering at me beneath heavy eyelids. Groaning, he railed into me like he’d never get enough—and that hungry gaze never left mine. “Now, David.”
My body caught up before my brain did. I collapsed onto the pillow while André fucked me through my orgasm. I sighed, come spreading beneath me. Is it normal to come this much?
With a cry, André dropped his hand and gripped my hips, the hot rush of his release bursting inside me. My vision returned in spots. A contented sigh, and I rested my head on the pillow. André rode out his orgasm, whispering sweet praises in my ear.
With both our highs subsiding, André kissed my cheek.
I could only manage a weak nod. He climbed off the bed and helped me to my feet. I swayed, only being held upright by his arm around my waist. He glanced down at my neck, which had to have been turning red. “Was that too much? Did I hurt you? Did I—”
I silenced him with a hand on his chest. “I’m okay.” Bashful, I glanced behind me. “I think the wet spot on your bed should be enough to tell you how much I enjoyed that.”
His mouth curled into that salacious grin, and he gave me a gentle kiss.
“W-w-was I good enough for you?” I stammered.
André furrowed his brows, as if I shouldn’t even be asking that question.
“Baby, you were perfect. How does a shower sound?”
“Wonderful.”
While André stripped the bed, I wobbled into the bathroom.
André tended to me first in the shower, washing my hair, then tenderly scrubbing down my body. While I leaned against the wall, he grabbed the sprayer on the side and began to wet his hair. I watched intently as he took his time, drenching the dense curls.
“You still want to learn?” he asked when he caught me looking.
“You’d trust me to do that? Ana said she never touches your hair.”
“Ana gets bleach happy so no, she doesn’t touch the hair,” he said with a smile, “but there’s not much you can mess up with water, and I can help.”
André washed and conditioned his hair, letting me stand under the scalding rainfall showerhead as did so.
Without drying it, he handed me a towel and we stepped out.
While I got dressed, he scooped something out of a jar and combed it through the curls.
I dressed, and stepped up behind him at the mirror.
I took a deep breath in, and something dawned on me.
“That’s why you always smell like coconut.”
André only smiled and pulled the stool from under the vanity sink. He grabbed another jar and handed it to me. “Use more than you think you need, and remember to brush it through.”
“Do you ever get tired of doing this?” I asked, beginning to work the cream through his hair section by section like he showed me.
“Sort of, but I don’t have to do it very often, so I usually just suck it up. Besides, the results when I don’t are enough to scare me
André’s curls were so thick that it seemed to take forever, but I was entranced. The way each lock bounced back after being combed out was almost hypnotizing.
“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”
I arched a brow at him in the mirror. “Have you seen the three strands of hair I’ve got?” I twisted a few sections of the curls around my finger and let them fall in the mass with the rest of them.
Every now and then, André would pick up a spray bottle on the counter and re-wet his hair. In between, he leaned on the counter, on the verge of falling asleep. He hummed. “It feels really nice to have someone else do it for a change.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I joked. “My hand’s cramping up.”
André reached up and grabbed the brush from me. “You have no idea how good it feels that you were even curious. I’ve got it from here.”
Watching him flip between the water, the product, and the brush was like watching magic.
I could blink and he’d have a different tool in his hand.
Periodically, he paused to force a rogue curl into submission.
I paused to get dressed and when I returned, he was repeating the process with gel.
If I couldn’t be helpful, I chose to play the good boyfriend and bring him snacks and a drink, watching, fascinated from the doorway.
It was dark when we finally left the bathroom. We straightened up the bed, and André ordered dinner while I put a new set of sheets on. When he opened the nightstand drawer, I saw a glimmer of something silver, but chalked it up to nothing more than a pair of handcuffs.
As we ate, I stared blankly at the TV, not really taking in anything on the screen.
I was too busy thinking about the way André had choked me before.
I’d liked it—I’d really liked it. But I didn’t understand why.
Regan used to control me; he used to choke me as well…
and I ran from that one. Trying to understand why I now enjoyed it was infuriating.
“Baby?”
“Hmm?” I was so deep in thought I didn’t realize André had been speaking to me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, muting the show.
“I-I um…” A nervous laugh bubbled out of me. “I just keep thinking about the choking.”
André smiled, his eyes turning dark. “Did you like it that much?”
“I did,” I answered. “But I don’t understand why. And it feels different.”
“What do you mean?”
Oh boy. I guess I had to tell him sometime.
“R-Regan used to choke me, but it didn’t feel like that. It really hurt, and sometimes I wouldn’t be able to breathe for a while after.”
“He wasn’t doing it right.” André’s voice cracked and when I looked at him again, his eyes shone for a different reason—unshed tears. “He was doing it to hurt you, David. It probably hurt because he bruised your windpipe. I’m sorry. If I’d known I—”
“No,” I interrupted. “I don’t want that to stop you. It felt really good.”
André eyed me warily. “Maybe I’ll just take it easy on you from now on.”
That I could work with. I kissed him, setting my food aside so I could melt into his arms.
I didn’t want to spiral down the abusive ex-boyfriend rabbit hole again.
I was sick of Regan ruining everything for me.
Even after everything he’d put me through, he still couldn’t give up.
I was tired but every time I started to heal, I would see those dark eyes looming over me.
With André’s lips on my skin, and his wet hair tickling my neck, I fell into a deep sleep.