Chapter 21 #2
I lose control, rolling from beneath her and pulling her down.
We’re on the floor together, and she’s beneath me on her belly, panting.
I dig the steel tip of my boot into the floor, bracing to keep her still.
One hand digs into her hair, and I sink my teeth into the soft skin where her throat meets her shoulder.
She bucks, wailing.
That…that is adrenaline in my veins. I release her long enough to reach between us and free my cock. My belt clangs against the floor, my zipper hisses. I grip her hip, dragging her onto one knee. She’s so wet, I slide up into her easily.
“No,” she pants.
We pause, both breathing hard.
“You need to safeword me, baby?” I manage, mouth pressed to the nape of her neck.
“Not there.” The words are barely audible.
Freezing, I glance down. She’s as hungry as I am, but that catches me off guard and has me throbbing against the softness of her ass.
I don’t have any lube in the house, but there is that Crisco from the gas station.
It’s probably a bad idea, but I’m so fucking desperate, I’d use anything to get my dick inside her right now.
“You want that?” I murmur. “You want me to fuck your ass like that, baby?”
She whimpers, nodding hard. Pulling out, I lift up, getting to my feet. She lays where she is without moving, her cheek pressed into the rice and flaking boards. On the table sit the groceries. I push back one of the plastic bags and find the jar of Crisco inside, where she left it.
I peel off the top, and inside, one half is still crisp, untouched.
Untouched.
Something clicks in my brain, but I don’t have the heart to follow that thought. Working quickly, I take what I need and kneel over her body, pushing the front of my pants down. Cupping my hand, I fist my cock, spreading it over my length.
“Hitch your knee up higher, baby,” I murmur, leaning over her.
She obeys, biting her lip. I run my hand over her ass, leaving trails of oil on her skin. The low whine she lets out when I touch her asshole is euphoric. It brings me back over the edge, wiping my mind clean. My fingers slip inside, and I’m surprised at how relaxed she is—she wants this badly.
I want her like this too. Raw, surrounded by these things that made us.
My fingers pump, in and out, until I can’t hold back anymore. She’s loose, moaning with her ass pushed up as I pull my fingers out. Bracing my palm on the flaking floorboard, I guide myself into her. She tenses so hard, I can’t get the head in.
“This your first time for this, baby?” I pant.
She shakes her head. “No, but it’s been a while.”
That makes me see red, but not at her—at the hands that touched her before mine. Rice digs into my slick palm. I brace my fingertips until my knuckles go white. My head dips, and I kiss the nape of her neck and bite down. Not as hard as last time, but enough to distract her for a second.
She relaxes. The head of my clock slips in. My vision flashes at how tight she grips me. Her spine arches, face to the side with her cheek digging into the rice, undulating her hips, begging for more.
My knee aches, torn open through my pants. She’s a beam of light within long-empty walls, a cold war over, surrendered to these feelings that only she seems to understand and want as badly as I do.
“More, please,” she begs.
I give her all of me, sliding in until she’s warm against my groin.
Then, we both break our last barrier, and everything is raw, animalistic sex.
Fucking, moaning, fingernails raking into the floorboards.
I can smell how turned on she is, on my face, on my hands.
I can feel that I’m already leaking precum into her ass. I wonder if she feels it too.
“Please,” she moans. “Please.”
We’re on a tightrope. I test her, and she tests me back.
We fuck, her with her spine curved up, taking me.
Me braced over her, panting hard as waves of heat and pleasure roll through.
She’s clamped down on me so hard, I don’t know if I can finish like this.
I’ve got Crisco down my inner thighs as I pump deep, rutting my hips against her naked ass.
“Jensen,” she gasps.
I dip down, grazing her shoulder with my mouth. “Baby.”
“Hard, slow,” she begs.
Fuck.
I drag my hips back, pausing, and then slam into her ass. She arches, and I feel the pain shudder through her body. This time, it seems to soothe her, and she eases the stranglehold she has on my cock.
“You beautiful fucking bitch,” I say. “God, you love taking me up your ass like a whore. Tell me.”
She moans, barely audible. I take her chin, forcing her face to the side.
“Tell me,” I order.
Her lashes flutter, eyes rolling back. I fuck slow and deep.
“I love it. I love taking you in my ass,” she whispers.
I grind my hips, pressing her clit into the rice beneath her hips. She twists, writhing. Her lips part, and I push my fingers into her mouth.
“Suck them. Suck like you suck me off,” I grit out.
She obeys, pulling them to the back of her throat.
Then, she shudders, seizing, and she comes so hard, she’s frozen.
With the other hand, I rip the clothespins off her nipples, and she screams around my fingers.
The Crisco is making a mess of the rice and peeled paint beneath our bodies.
Through it runs her arousal, trickling over the floorboards.
White heat travels down my spine, and I let my forehead drop to the nape of her neck. My spine bows. My hips rut into her ass as I give her everything I’ve got. I’ve felt less beaten at the end of a losing fight.
And that’s so fucking dangerous.
“Della,” I whisper into her hair.
She moans, still quivering.
“Are you alright?” I press.
She takes a breath and lifts her head. I shift my thigh and pull my cock from her. There’s pussy and Crisco and rice all over my pants, all down my thighs. Gently, I roll her onto her back and stretch out beside her. Her eyes are misty, blinking hard.
“Hey, come back to me,” I tap her cheek.
Slowly, her breathing evens. I stroke her hair and hold her to my chest. When she’s ready, I lift her to her feet. The sun cuts through in a beam, falling on her hair, making it translucent. I’ve never felt so naked with anyone before.
“We should wash up,” she whispers.
I carry her upstairs and turn on the shower.
She grabs the dish soap on the way up to get the slickness off our skin.
Everything smells like cheap soap and sex as we wash it off.
The drain clogs with bits of rice. I scrape them out, and she laughs, her shoulders finally sinking as the come-down hits her hard.
That’s when I take her in my arms and kiss her like she means something. Slow, deep, exploring her mouth.
“Jensen,” she says, pulling back.
I raise my brows.
She looks like she wants to say something, but then she shrugs. “I think it’ll take both of us to clean up the kitchen.”
I smile. “Yeah, think so.”
We don’t talk about what happened, not any more than we did the first time we mixed pain with our pleasure.
I wash her, spreading her thighs to make sure I didn’t hurt her ass or pussy.
There are little marks on her delicate skin.
I kiss them, remnants of blue dish soap bitter on my tongue.
She washes me, and I let her, even though it feels vulnerable to be taken care of.
We get out, dress, and clean up the kitchen. It takes the rest of the afternoon, a few hours of not speaking.
Then, she reheats dinner while I feed the horses and lock up. I sit in my usual seat at the wobbly table. She sets down a plate of pork belly, refried in oil and served on a bed of rice and greens.
It’s dark now, save for the single golden light bulb hanging by a string from the ceiling. She sinks down opposite me and hands me a fork.
I can’t begin to guess what she’s thinking.
We eat in silence until everything on our plates is consumed.