26. Wrinley
Wrinley
H e told me to fight him. That’s what I’m doing.
For once, I want to obey him.
I want to be good for him.
But I suspect he needs the struggle as much as I do. It takes him no time to react accordingly. His hand is still in my hair when he directs–no pushes–my head towards the floor, and I push back against him, like I’d rather be doing anything other than this.
“Fuck you,” I spit. “I’m not a fucking toy you can just use however you want, asshole.”
“Heh, that’s where you’re wrong.” He pushes harder, forcing my cheek to meet the leather of his black boot. “You’re my fucktoy, Wrinley. Act like something different and maybe I’ll treat you differently. Now lick it clean.”
“No.”
He responds quickly by taking his other booted foot and using it to press my head where he wants it.
“Yes. You’re not getting up and certainly not getting fucked in that tight cunt of yours until you do it, so I suggest you hurry.
You wait too long, I’ll just whip my dick out and come on your pretty little face. ”
“Awe, you think I’m pretty, Axel?” I grin, my head still pressed between his boots. He doesn’t answer, but leans over to touch my bare ass. Then he proceeds to spread my cheeks and taunt my back hole with his index finger.
“I could always fuck you here, instead.” Fucker really knows where my buttons are because even I know I’m not ready to take that huge cock of his in my asshole, no matter how much I’d like to.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, dickhead.” Oh god, I don’t even know where that came from. Shit.
“Okay,” he says as he begins to breach my ass with his finger.
“Fine,” I stop him. He presses down against my head, encouraging me to do as he demands and like a good little toy, I begin to lap up my cum from his other boot in hurried strokes.
“That’s a good girl. Make sure you don’t miss any.”
He turns his boot, this way and that until he’s sure I’ve done a good job and eventually pulls me back up by my hair to stand.
I’ll have to make sure I put up a little less of a fight next time we do that, because I think I enjoyed it way too much.
The sheer embarrassment of it alone has me ready to come again.
“Undress me.”
Fuck, he’s so hot when he’s bossy. Then again, he’s always fucking bossy, so I guess he’s always hot.
Fuck my life. I’m royally fucking fucked.
“Wrinley.” His use of my name as a command has me itching to get back on my knees for him.
Instead, I make fast work of his belt and jeans to push them both down his toned legs, then untying his boots, so he can step out.
I saw his ‘situation’ at Gravity when I choked on it, but standing here in the light, with his cock hard and angry like maybe, it hates me too.
I can really see what he’s working with and I’m suddenly doubting how tight my pussy is, because, how the fuck did he fit that thing inside me without sending me to the emergency room?
I must be taking too long. Before I can grab the hem of his t-shirt to remove it, he grips it behind his neck and whips it over his head in one shot.
It’s a classic hot guy move, but honestly one that never fails to hit a girl right in the clit.
It didn’t miss the mark. Between that move and seeing him in all his naked glory, she’s throbbing and ready to grant him entry.
“Get on the bed and spread those legs for me.”
I don’t waste time following his instruction as my ass hits the plush comforter, I’m pretty sure I got when I was twelve.
I should maybe be more horrified that we’re doing this in my childhood bedroom that’s clearly frozen in time, but the forbiddenness of it all has me teetering on an edge I never want to step away from.
I want to step off and fall with him–over and over and over again.
The mattress dips when he kneels between my wide stretched legs and leans forward to slide his thumb through my already soaked pussy.
The last time we did this, it was hard… rough…
rushed. I’m grateful it happened that way.
But this time, the way he’s assessing and taking everything in–taking me in–tells me he’s committing every piece of me to memory and I’m not mad about that either.
His thumb stops at my piercing, and he presses down on it, causing a jolt of pleasure to shoot up my spine. “Tell me about this,” he orders.
I let out a breath.
“Jesus. Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to form your thoughts into questions?”
He quirks a brow. “Cause I had so many great role models. Answer the question.”
“Like I said. It wasn’t exactly a question, but I’ll let it slide this time.
” He presses down on the piercing again, eliciting a gasp.
“Fuck, okay. Your sister and I went on a girls trip a few years back and I got it then. It’s just the hood, but it really enhances things…
if you know what I mean.” I shoot him an exaggerated wink for good measure, but the growl that escapes his lips tells me he’s nowhere near amused.
Interesting.
“So, what I’m hearing is you let someone else touch my cunt.
” He pinches the piercing and pulls, causing another sharp pain to shoot up my spine and my back to arch off the bed to relieve some of the pressure.
“Let’s get one thing fucking straight, right now.
From this point on, if I ever find out someone has touched you, that isn’t me, I will kill them.
And then I’ll punish you . I know you like the pain.
This cunt is mine and it’s getting wetter by the second right now, but I promise you won’t like the punishment if you force me to dish it out. ”
He gives the metal ring a twist before releasing it and I whimper at the sensation.
He’s wrong though. I have no intention of telling him this, but I don’t just love the pain.
I do, however, love his brand of pain. I’ve always watched depraved shit to get off, but this…
It’s the soul-soothing salve I never knew I needed.
He wouldn’t actually kill someone over me, though. Would he?
“I know you’re obsessed with me, but murder is a little extreme, don’t you think?” I joke.
His eyebrow raises as he leans forward to run his hard length slowly between my soaked folds, teasing me with the promise of being filled by him.
His already tight abs clench, making himself twitch against my clit and my eyes can’t help but roam downward, past the v-lines and pleasure trail that point to what’s quickly becoming my favorite part of him.
“You clearly have no idea what I’m willing and capable of doing.” Then in one quick movement, he lines himself up and buries himself inside me, stretching me around him like a tight fitting glove.
“Fuck me,” I groan, not from pain, but pressure. “I wonder if I’ll ever get used to how full you make me.”
He smirks. “Oh, I’m sure you will eventually. I’ll make sure of it.”
That thought should warm me, thinking I’ll get more of him. But it only serves to trigger what we’ve worked so hard to bury tonight–the anxiety, the fear.
Our truce is over after this.
We get to go back to hating each other.
Back to business as usual.
It’s what we both agreed to and what we both clearly want.
Isn’t it?
“Hey,” he grabs my chin with his whole hand, directing my eyes to meet his. He’s still inside me, throbbing against my inner walls and all I want is for him to start moving before the tears I’m holding back become a reality. “Stay with me. I’m not going anywhere. Focus. On. Me.”
I nod and blink back the tears as his lips meet mine in a kiss so punishing, I’m pretty sure the Earth stopped rotating on its axis. It’s rough and demanding, with an undercurrent of understanding and empathy.
I wrap my arms around him in response, to pull him closer.
I want–need–all of his weight on me. The five-o-clock shadow he’s been rocking all day chafes my skin, but I think I like that too.
Our tongues tangle as I reach up to run my hands through his soft waves, grasping the strands and tightening until he gasps in my mouth.
He slowly pulls his hips back and begins to pump them back and forth, the entire length of him moving at a slow and almost painful pace.
When he finally pulls his lips from mine, I see the same sadness from earlier, but now I also see the pain that lingers in the corners of his eyes and in the lines that form on his forehead.
“I still hate you,” I moan, keeping my eyes locked on his as he continues his slow, rhythmic thrusts.
“I know,” he whispers back as he grazes his tongue along the seam of my lips. “I hate you too, baby.”
Baby.
That one fucking word spurs the flame that had been lingering in my core.
My pussy clenches against his cock in response and he returns the favor by increasing his pace until he’s fully punishing me with his body inside mine.
The flames creep up my body until my cheeks burn hot and I’m trembling as he mercilessly pounds his pelvis against mine.
His hands move to grab the hair at the back of my head, pulling until my back arches to push my tits into his chest and our bodies melt into each other like we’re one solid entity.
His forehead lands on mine.
His breaths are heavy.
My breaths are heavy.
“Come on my cock, Wrinley,” he pants. “Come on my cock, right fucking now.”
The old bed frame squeaks underneath us as I do exactly as he says, my release taking over and forcing me to rock my hips up to meet his as I ride the wave.
His muscles tense above me and his eyes maintain their focus on me as his cock pulses and he releases jet after jet of his hot cum deep inside me.
As he comes down from his orgasm, he reaches his hand up to caress my cheek with his thumb. “ Mia ,” he whispers so quietly I almost don’t hear. “ Mi debilidad .”
“What did you just say?”
“It’s Spanish. It means you’re my weakness. You’re mine.”
I want to argue and tell him I belong to no one, but I think that might be a lie. I think he might be right about this one.
This started as a means to forget, but I’m long past forgetting now. I don’t think I could if I tried.
I am his.
And I most certainly don’t hate him.