Chapter 27 #2
He spreads my ass cheeks, and I feel him sliding my juices over my asshole. “Do you hate me for punishing you, flower?”
“Yes,” I gasp, even though I think I’m more turned on than I have ever been in my life.
“Why are you so turned on then?” He pushes his thumb inside my asshole, and I fall forward onto my forearms, too weak to hold my own weight.
“I’m not,” I cry as he pumps it in and out of me, going all the way to his knuckle. It feels dirty and so fucking good at the same time. I shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t be enjoying any of it, but I am. “I hate you.”
His chuckle vibrates through my body. He’s so damn close to me. “Or is it yourself you hate for wanting this? Wanting me to play with you, punish you, and fuck your tight little asshole just because I can. See, I think you enjoy my kind of pleasure.”
“No,” I moan as he pumps inside me again. It’s getting harder to deny by the second.
“Then why haven’t you used your safe word?” He twists his thumb, stretching me.
I moan incoherent sounds as I stare at the blurry grass in front of me, knowing he’s right. I never will because I want this. I want him to hurt me just a little before he fucks me; it feels euphoric that way.
“You can stop me anytime, flower.”
He says his nickname for me like he’s testing me, tormenting me more like it. But I won’t use it. He removes his thumb, and the last crack of his belt comes over my ass cheek.
“Fuck,” I cry, my whole body trembling and shaking. This is too much and not enough all at the same time.
“Was that four? Or are you begging me to fuck your tight little hole?”
“Both,” I whimper, my body damn near convulsing.
He tosses the belt out of his grip, and I hear the zipper of his jeans sliding down.
Then, his body is pressed right in close with mine, the tip of his cock sliding through my juices before he pushes inside of my pussy, stretching me with a growl of appreciation from him and a breathy moan from me, almost relief flooding my veins. I needed him to screw me so damn badly.
He pumps in and out of me a few times before he pulls out and lines himself up with my asshole.
He pushes in the tip, but my body has other ideas.
I shoot forward, closing up tight so he can’t enter me.
My fingernails dig into the soil as I try to grip on to something for control.
“If you don’t want this, tell me,” he growls, sounding like he’s on the verge of losing control himself.
“I want it,” I get out, not even recognizing my voice anymore. I sound far away or like I’m someone else.
“Good. Then fucking open up for me.” He snakes a hand around my front, his fingers wrapping around my throat as he pulls me in extra close to him, my bare skin rubbing against the softness of his T-shirt.
His other hand moves around the front and toys with my clit, rubbing my juices over the sensitive flesh in a way that has me widening my legs for him.
He knows what he’s doing, my whole body lighting up with the control he has over me and his rough, demanding touch.
He moves to push inside me again. My fingers dig into the grass, soil getting under my nails as I grip on, trying to let him in.
Trying to trust him enough to give him this part of me.
This time he eases in further, and I let him, pushing my ass back onto him at the same time.
It burns like a motherfucker, but I want more.
I try to move, try to wiggle my hips, but I can’t in his tight grip on me.
All I can do is take his massive cock up my ass and feel the burn as he stretches me.
He doesn’t pump in and out of me; he just holds me impossibly close and keeps stroking over my clit.
My body tingles all over, so ready for him to move inside of me.
This isn’t the first time I have had anal sex, but it’s the first time I wanted to and the first time it felt good as much as painful.
“Screw me already, what are you waiting for?” I say when I can’t stand the anticipation anymore.
His lips, brush just below my ear, then he moves so our lips are locked, and he kisses me roughly, forcing his tongue inside my mouth.
When he pulls back, I’m panting. “So fucking good for me, aren’t you, my dirty girl.
” That was the permission he needed. He moves inside me, his thick cock stretching me with every thrust.
“Jagger,” I cry his name, hating myself for it but not able to stop his name from slipping from my lips at the same time. This is what he does to me. Makes me a mess just for him.
“Cum for me, flower,” he growls, his voice vibrating through my whole body as he sinks his teeth into my shoulder.
My body combusts, shivering and shaking as he pulls the most earth-shattering orgasm from me, and I collapse down onto his jacket, breathing in his intoxicating scent. Over and over again, my pussy throbs and pulses till I’m seeing stars.
I’m sure he’s right there with me, the hand that was around my throat moving to my shoulder blades as he rides through his own release, fucking my ass until his grunt of satisfaction comes. “Fuck yes, Daisy. So fucking good for me.”
We still, and all that I hear now is both our heavy breathing filling the silence of the night. He strokes my lower back as he pulls out of me. I collapse on the grass, my eyes closed as I try to get my racing heart under control, my body spent in the most satisfying way.
The fabric of his T-shirt brushes my arm, and I let my eyes open sleepily to find him lying beside me with his pants already done up. I sigh, a little disappointed. Not sure why he gets all of me, but he will only give me such small glimpses of himself.
Without a word, he delicately undoes the binding of my panties from my wrists.
I shrug my dress back on, needing to be covered up, but don’t bother with my bra, sliding it through the armhole of my dress before discarding it on the grass.
Then I come back down to look up at the twinkling stars, if anything to avoid the way he’s gazing at me.
I sigh and let the beauty of this place take me away from the reality of what we just shared.
It’s just fucking, Daisy, just Jagger’s way of filling his deprived sexual appetite, and for whatever reason, his focus is on you.
I try to remind myself what this is because it felt like something else, and I can’t afford to get swept away with hopelessly romantic notions of what this could be.
He fucked you up the ass, for God’s sake, that isn’t romantic.
But there is a messed-up part of me that felt something more tonight.
“Are you alright?” he asks when we have been lying like this for some time.
I glance toward him. “Like you care,” I mutter, trying to stop the damn emotions that are swirling around from seeping in and taking over.
His fingers intertwine with mine, and he squeezes gently. “I care,” he breathes, his words too kind, too caring for him, and that only makes me even more emotional.
“You have a funny way of showing it,” I cut back, keeping the edge of annoyance in my voice.
It’s easier than admitting I want him to care about me.
That I’m desperate to be important to someone.
Nope, that shit needs to stay locked up tight.
A soft breeze sweeps over me, and I shiver, cooling down.
He pops up on his arm, looking me over for longer than he should, for longer than I want his assessing eyes locked on me. “Time to go inside.” He stands and then holds out his hand for me to join him.
Reluctantly, I take his hand. I can’t stay out here on the lawn all night, even if the prospect of going inside with him has my stomach churning.
Taking his jacket, he slips it over my shoulders and holds me close to him, like this thing between us is so natural.
We move back across the lawn and up the pebble path and steps to the front door. He types in a code like he did with the gate, and the door pops open, letting us inside. He flicks on the light, and the room comes to life.
The room is country cottage meets industrial warehouse, black metal trimmings and appliances meet cream kitchen cupboards.
Warm hardwood floors are layered with ornate rugs.
The fireplace is stacked stone, the sofa is brown leather, the beams exposed, and the windows are high, showcasing the view.
But that’s not what has my mouth gaping open in surprise.
It’s the dining table decked out with a bottle of champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries, grapes, cheeses, and crackers.
There is even a cut-crystal vase with what looks like fresh-picked flowers from the garden.
And little fairy lights hanging from the beams overhead.
I glance back at him, tears now taking over. “What is this?”
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “If you had met me in the private suite tonight, I was going to talk you into coming away with me for the night. But you were a brat, so we had to do it the hard way.”
I smirk back at him, not able to help it, swiping at the escaped tear. I can’t believe the cold-hearted grump had this in him. “You can do romance?”
He motions to the spread in front of us. “If this is romance to you?”
“This is beautiful, Jagger, I’m in shock.”
He scratches the back of his head, looking uncomfortable. “Well, I thought it’s better than the bowl of cereal you normally come home to.”
Butterflies dance in my stomach. I shouldn’t let them, shouldn’t be grinning back at him all stupid and lovesick, should turn and run for it, because the dirty screwing I can handle. But this, this is something else, and a small niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me this is dangerous.