58. Ivory
The hand at her mouth fell away along with the knife, then something else nestled between her thighs. It pressed against his finger at her opening, too big to slip in easily but hard and round enough that she knew it would fit. The tip wasn’t shaped like a dildo, and her mind reeled as she tried to figure out what it was.
“Do you want to be fucked with my gun, sweetheart?”
A moan left her lips, utterly depraved even to her ears. Those words, combined with the grit in Adrian’s voice—the low, commanding tone he could use to get whatever he wanted—nearly sent her over the edge for a second time.
He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes. But I want to hear you say it. Ask nicely.”
“Please fuck me,” she whimpered, half delirious.
“Mm, very tempting.” A heavy sigh left his lips as he brushed his mouth over hers. “How could I ever resist you? Did you think I’d forget how you said those words?” He let them share a delicate kiss, soft and tender and sensual. “You won me over from day one, from the moment you wanted to be mine.”
Amid her scattered thoughts, she searched for a reply, but with a tongue heavy from his taste and lips tingling in the aftermath of their kiss, no words could match the glow deep in her chest. Fortunately, Adrian didn’t seem to need one. His finger slid out and pulled her attention back to the gun. Though the ribbon still wrapped tight around her eyes, she could tell he was using her juices as lube, spreading her arousal up the barrel in preparation to penetrate.
When it pressed against her again, it wedged in the slightest amount, stretching her just like he said it would. The hardness of the steel made it difficult to adjust, the thickness of the barrel more than what she was used to. A nonsensical plea left her lips, yes and more and thank you all jumbled into one.
“That’s it.” He slid the gun back and forth, warming her up with gentle strokes over her clit, down to her puckered hole to elicit a gasp, and then sunk it inside again. She squirmed with needy impatience, pressure building up within like a corked bottle.
“So perfect,” he mused. “I love making you feel good, rubbing my gun against that hard clit and watching you try to fuck yourself on it. Earning my cock like you want it more than anything else in the whole world.” He tilted to get a better angle and pushed it in gradually, slow enough for her to accommodate the intrusion. The handle brushed her thighs as the barrel seated as deep as it could go. “You make me so proud.”
Her heart fractured at his admiration. With one long stroke, he pumped the gun in and out. She clenched down, accepting its fullness and trembling with an ache so deep it split her psyche. Perhaps this wasn’t the gun’s intended use, but it proved just as deadly.
The trembles grew as he picked up the pace. They seized her legs and belly and shoulders, blood rushing in her ears, friction winding through in her core. Her body expanded and contracted as he forced her to take it, to crave it, and she was so close, almost there—
“Don’t come.” The knife pressed to her neck, right above the leather belt. Adrian’s voice sounded as strained as she felt, harsh and rough. “Hold it.”
His thrusts didn’t stop or slow, and she had to force herself to suck in a deep breath. The blade stung against her neck while the gun punished her pussy. She was dripping, whining, caught in the snare of forbidden release. But she didn’t come.
“Good girl. Well done.” He pulled out the gun but left the knife, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “I think you’re ready. You’ve earned another inch, and now there’s only one left.”
A cap clicked. Cold lube spread over her already-soaked ass. Then his finger dipped into her virgin hole, and she shivered. Forced into stillness by the knife at her throat, the tightness inside squeezed, the flames of his touch licking every hidden angle. Her jaw hung open as another finger pressed inside, the two of them twisting and stretching and filling.
Only fingers, yet it was so much, so big and demanding. Embarrassingly good.
The knife left her neck, then Adrian pulled on the belt. It constricted around her throat and drew a long whimper from her lips.
“So generous,” he praised, “letting me take both of your holes. So filthy.” With the rushed pull of a zipper, his dick plunged into her pussy. She gasped, impaled and quivering and defenseless. Filled in both places, it was almost impossible to move, to even breathe. He was everywhere, plugging her ass and her cunt, with his hand at her throat.
The leather jacket brushed against her breasts as he leaned in and whispered against her cheek, “Your asshole is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Ready to be fucked. Have I earned it, sweetheart? Will you let me give you the last inch?”
She moaned again, trying to nod through the belt and the pleasure. “Yes. Yes, sir.”
He hissed as he drew himself out and left her empty, hovering for a moment as if it took all his strength not to finish then and there. “Feel what you do to me,” he rasped, teasing her pleated hole with his fat tip. “Feel how much my body wants to please you.”
How much was accurate. There was so much, too much. Even coated in her nectar and lube, his dick had to shove against her to try and fit. It had to punish as it pleased, to take more than she thought she was able to give.
A chorus of helpless moans spilled from her lips. Then he slipped in. The flare of his hood notched inside, and her muscles held him in place.
He kept the belt taut and stroked her jaw, feeding himself into her ass. “There we go,” he murmured, voice strained and breathless. “Just a little more. You’re doing so well, Iv. My perfect little witch. You feel amazing, magical. Shit —” His hips flexed, and she felt him bottom out.
“All eight inches,” he breathed. “Everything you’ve earned, sweetheart. Does that make you happy?”
“Yes, sir,” she hummed. The words sounded far away like they were floating above her. “I’m so happy and full. I want you to fuck me. Please.”
“As you wish.” Then he began to move for real.
Each drag of his cock felt a million times more electric, the sensation hooking so deep it felt like he could reach all the way to her heart. She relaxed around him as the pressure from earlier climbed higher. Her hands clung to the straps, body strung together only by the thread of desire between them.
“Mm,” he groaned. “Can you take more, sweetheart?”
More ? She bit her lip. “If you want me to, sir.”
He cursed and held himself still as he reached to the side. “That’s right, you’re going to take whatever I give you. You’re going to come with my gun in your pussy and my cock in your ass.” As he spoke, the words became her destiny, unavoidable and prophetic.
The gun’s barrel slipped between her folds. He tried to hold her open and make it easier to take, but even with the promise of pleasure, it wasn’t easy. If the stretch had been obvious before, now it bordered on unbearable. Adrian worked the gun in gently, holding her and whispering praises all the while. How incredible she felt, how tight and hot, and how good she’d feel being stuffed full.
Keeping himself buried to the root, he eased the gun in and out until she moaned and ground herself against it. Then he started to move, and she lost all sanity.
Searing sparks of pleasure tore through her veins. They sizzled in her abdomen and sunk down to her toes. The only things left were pleasure and pain, a harmony of the two that wasn’t one or the other but a fusion, a transformation that surged through every cell and imprinted his name on each one. Wound his being with hers.
Just like he’d promised, he’d carved his way into her soul and filled it to the point of bursting. He destroyed her, then pieced her together with his mark. With his claim. His permanence.
His thrusts grew steadier, sure and potent as his thighs kissed hers and drove her into the door. Their pants echoed off the walls. He released the belt to cup her face, and it was the sweet tenderness of his touch that broke the thin surface of her reserves.
Everything imploded at once, fierce and shattering. The climax poured out of her in endless wet waves, one crashing down after the other in a formidable storm.
“So fucking beautiful.” The gun clattered to the floor. Then his lips dominated hers as he shoved in one last time and pumped her full of his semen. He kissed her as he came, his hair tickling her skin and heat blossoming low in her belly.
“I love you,” she whispered, soothing him with her lips as he shuttered and stroked her face.
“I love you, too, Ivory.” Together, they descended from the high, kissing and gasping and murmuring disjointed words that made her heart remember how to beat. At last, he took the belt from her neck and slipped her hands out of the straps. “How do you feel?”
“Amazing,” she mumbled. “Exhausted.”
The ribbon fell from her eyes, and she blinked as the room came into focus. Her black knight stood there as handsome as ever, rubbing her skin and making sure the marks would fade, letting her senses return. She looked down, and it took a moment for her to register what she saw. First, a towel utterly soaked . Second, a gun she didn’t recognize, made of brightly colored plastic.
“Wait,” she whispered. “What’s all that?”
He smiled, then bent to pick up the gun. “It was quite the sight. A world wonder, actually.” He let her hold the foreign gun—a plastic toy. “All thanks to my new squirt gun. Accurately named in this case.”
“I didn’t,” she breathed, eyes wide.
“You did,” he confirmed. “And I’ll make you do it again the next chance I get.”
If she wasn’t so worn out, she’d have more energy to feel some type of way about that. But as it was, she could only jump to the next thought. “If this was a toy, was the knife fake, too?”
“This?” He held up a metal ruler. Holding her arm, he dragged the edge along her skin. The point of the corner bit into her the same way as the perceived blade. “I wouldn’t risk you getting cut. But I will let you believe it in the moment.”
She managed a weak laugh and shook her head. “You’re more dangerous than I thought.”
He hummed absently, though his eyes showed more than a healthy streak of pride. “Can you stand?”
Doubtful. She gripped his shoulders as he undid the rest of the straps, then tested her shaky legs. “I think I can. But I’d prefer if you held me.”
Without complaint, he swooped her into his arms. “I’d prefer if I held you, too.” Grabbing the blanket off his bed, he bent to kiss her forehead. “I have a movie set up in the living room.”
“That sounds perfect,” she murmured.