34. Ivy
Ivy
M y pussy is sore, so fucking sore that when he pulls out of me, I have to try and think of how I can make it stop.
He’s fucked it, licked it, and smashed it with his cock and mouth.
I’m not sure how much more I can actually take.
I manage to step away, and when I glance down at his groin, I see his cock is still hard.
I start shaking my head, and he just smirks as if he’s enjoying every moment of breaking me.
But even a girl like me has her limits. I thought I had stamina, but a whole day of fucking non-stop has destroyed me from the inside out, and I can barely use my legs.
“I have to leave,” I say, finally throwing in the towel. “You need to go to the hospital for that.”
“No, don’t leave me. Please ,” he whines as he tries to reach for my hand.
I slip out of his grasp, then go to the kitchen to find my dress and throw it on.
All the while, he practically stalks me.
Viagra or not, Hawke’s stamina is unlike any man I’ve ever been with.
I need to get out of this house while my pussy is still able to function.
I know the moment he grabs me again, my body will betray me, not listening to any logic. So I keep the distance between us so that he can’t fill me with his cock again. It’s not my fault he took too many Viagra, and now it’s fucked up his penis.
I scoop up my purse and head for the door. I’m not showing him any more mercy; that cock is a sinking ship right now.
“Ivy, please!” he calls out, but I choose to ignore him, pushing through the pain this asshole has battered my body with. I’m sure hours from now I’ll be grateful, but right now, my body fucking aches and my hips feel like they’ve been snapped off, trying to endure his size the whole time.
“Good luck. You know, with that.” I point to his cock and quickly shut the door behind me. I hear him laugh, which also kind of sounds like he’s about to cry, as I head to the car. He pulls the front door open, throws his hands up in the air, and screams my name, completely naked.
“Come back! We aren’t done! You can’t be serious, Ivy!”
I laugh as I drive away because there’s no chance in hell that I’m turning around.
I haven’t even pulled through the gate at the end of his driveway before he’s calling me. He continues to call, and I ignore him, with very little sympathy as I pray for my pussy.
As soon as I’m home, I run a bath, not even waiting for the tub to fill up because my first priority is letting my sore pussy soak. She worked overtime today.
I sigh as I relax back in the water, a small smile curving my lips as I think about all the positions he had me in. Hawke loves to put me in weird positions, and I love it as well.
Today was strange. I was mad at him—still am, I think—but he was able to take me out of my head for a while and prevented me from obsessing about not being able to move forward until I see Jared.
My phone continues to ring, buzzing on the bathroom counter, so I lower myself deeper into the water until it covers my head and muffles the sound. I lie there, finally letting my mind decompress.
So much has changed, particularly because of one big oaf who keeps getting himself and his dick into trouble. Bubbles escape my mouth and rise to the water’s surface as I laugh. Only Hawke would do something as stupid as taking three Viagra. It’s fucking ridiculous. And hilarious.
When the water starts to turn cold and my skin starts to prune, I get out of the bath and check my phone. It’s still buzzing. I don’t even have to look at the screen to know it’s him.
I can’t help but be curious about his predicament, and so, after I dry off and dress, I grab my laptop and tuck my feet under my ass as I sit on my couch and hack into his cameras.
He comes up on the second camera, still in the living room.
He’s sitting on the couch, spread eagle, his hand wrapped around his cock as he pumps it, his other hand holding his phone to his ear.
Persistent fucker. I almost feel cruel now.
I flip my phone over and see his name appear again. This time, I do answer.
“Finally.” He huffs, and I can hear his hand moving.
“How is your problem going?” I ask, biting the inside of my cheek. This guy, I swear…
“Better if you were here,” he growls.
“I don’t think you’re allowed near my vagina until it recovers.” I watch him on the camera and his hand pauses.
“So you’re saying there’ll be a next time?” he questions, and when I don’t answer, he says, “Lover?”
“Maybe.”
“Good. How about tomorrow?”
“Ummm, no.”
“Today then?” he says. “Please, come back.”
“I think you can take care of that yourself. Besides, you might not be home tomorrow if you’re getting the blood drained from your cock in the hospital.”
His hand freezes on his cock. “That’s not really what happens, is it?”
“Sure is. Better get that hand working faster.”
“Fuck,” he curses as his speed increases.
“Put your back into it,” I say cheekily, and his gaze darts straight to the camera. A slow smirk draws across his face as he continues stroking himself.
“You’re enjoying this a little too much,” he scolds. “Tell me, what did you like…”
“When I left,” I joke.
“Liar.”
“I liked it when you bit me,” I confess.
When I was in the bathtub, I looked at my body, which happened to be covered in bite marks. And I liked it. I liked it even more when he was the one doing the biting. How and why I like it confuses me. And I know he wouldn’t judge me because he loved doing it as much as I loved receiving it.
“Good, what else…”
“All of it.”
“Are you wet?” he asks.
“No. I’m sore.”
“I could make you feel better. My tongue could make you feel better.”
“I’m going to sleep now,” I say sweetly.
“It’s daytime,” he reminds me.
“Yes, and you kept me up all night, fucking me.”
“And I can repeat that today if you like.” I can’t help the laugh that leaves me at his words as I hang up on him.