Chapter 11 Not Silas
NOT SILAS
Icrash into a dining table chair that’s on my path, knocking it over.
I bound up the stairs and burst into the bathroom, wrenching the cabinet door open.
Uncaring, I send its contents flying all over the floor as I grab the lube from the back, Roxana’s various cream dispensers clattering as they roll across the tiles.
My thirst rages inside me like an inferno, and running down the stairs, taking them in leaps of two or three at a time, I pull my tee over my head and discard it.
I re-enter the kitchen and round the dining table in the direction of the living room, already undoing my belt with a savage tug.
The sofa comes into view, parallel with the table, and so does the lower half of Roxana’s body, her smooth, firm legs, and the sharp curve of her arse, still up in the air and ready for me to take it, use it, ravage it . ..
I free my dick from my trousers and lather it with lube before I even make it to her.
“I won’t be gentle,” I warn her urgently as I squeeze more lube out of the tub and start spreading it around the tight, inviting place between her arse cheeks.
She turns her head to look at me, her eyes slanted and sleepy, oozing with lust, her face framed by the dark waves of her hair. “I wouldn’t want you to be,” she assures me and then sighs tremendously when I push a finger inside her, working her arse and coating its tight passage with lube.
I feel lightheaded from the way all my blood drains away from the rest of my body to accumulate in my erection, its steadily increasing pressure severing my last ties to sanity.
Impatient, I add another finger, stretching her, preparing her for what is to come and knowing at the same time that it won’t be nearly enough.
“Just do it already,” Roxie urges me on as if reading my thoughts. “Fuck me. I want you to. You know I can take it. I can take your big cock, Daddy. Fuck my ass raw.”
She starts bucking her hips, coming to meet my fingers, showing me just how much she’s ready to take me in deeper, and grinding her clit against the sofa’s arm with needy moans. Something snaps inside of me, and it’s game over; there go the last shreds of my self-restraint.
I barely pull my fingers out before I’m pushing the tip of my cock against the tight rim, now slick with lube.
I have to force my way in first, her body resisting the intrusion.
But once I get deeper, her sheath-like entrance starts sucking me in, and I have to fight its pull to drive out again, almost to the tip, before ramming back inside.
Roxana screams, but not before I crash my palm flat against her flank.
Her yell morphs into a relieved groan when I’m as deep as I can go, and her struggle to take me ceases.
“I must be hurting you,” I force out, clenching my teeth in an effort to hold my building climax at bay.
“Yes, but I love it,” she replies, her voice so husky it’s barely more than a rasp. “It hurts so good when it feels like you’re about to split me in half, Daddy.”
I thrust into her a few times, spanking her whenever I pull out and then holding her tensing body firmly in place when I throw my hips forward again.
And her every gasp, every little “fuck”, every vehement “yes”, every slap of flesh against flesh, that all is to me what fire is to gasoline.
I marvel at her hunger for me, her appetite for being wrecked by me, almost comparable to my own thirst for her.
“You take me so well.” I’m not even sure if I’m praising her or just thinking out loud, distracting myself from the wild throbbing in my balls, the violent shudders running through me. “So well that there’s no more of me to give.”
I keep the hand I used to put the lube inside her on the swell of her hip, but reach around with the other one, worming it underneath her so that my thumb rubs against her clit as I breach her pussy with three of my fingers, wasting no time in finding and kneading her G-spot.
Roxie cries out in ecstasy, her core instantly spasming.
“Are you going to come for Daddy?” I ask, lowering myself over her, the warmth of her body caressing my chest.
“Yes, Daddy,” she mewls.
“And are you going to be a good little slut for Daddy and come only when he lets you?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I breathe deeply through my nose, savouring the primordial musk that hangs around us, the air thick with the way we are ruining each other, our bodies slick with sweat.
I pick up my pace on all fronts, rutting into her harder with my cock, plundering her pussy even more relentlessly with my fingers and flicking my thumb across the tight, ripe bundle of nerves at my disposal. Her moans get louder and her arse clenches tighter around me as she nears her culmination.
She’s bucking her hips now, meeting my thrusts greedily. Her screams bounce off the walls, my own savage groans keeping them company.
“Take it. Fucking take it all,” I growl into the shell of her ear, nipping at it.
And I’m working her faster yet, frantic, desperately needing to chase her to the edge so that I can push us both off it.
“Now, baby, now,” I call out, my chest constricting, and I sink my teeth into her shoulder, not letting go until I taste blood.
Almost instantly, Roxana breaks around me with a shrill cry, drawing my orgasm out of me with vengeance, my body seizing and cum rushing out of me and spilling over our thighs as it overflows from her utterly ravaged hole, and we throb around each other, our heartbeats fusing into one ...
A sharp rap on the door snaps me back to reality.
And as it does, I’m flooded with embarrassment when I realise that the front of my trousers is wet, and that my dick is still jerking and sputtering the last remains of my release.
A release I had without so much as touching myself, brought on by nothing more than remembering a confused dream.
Should such a thing even be possible in someone who hasn’t been a teenager for over two and a half decades?
What in god’s name is happening to me? I think, and as I articulate the word ‘god’ in my mind, a brief burst of pain slashes through my temples.
Roxana bursts in through the door just as I bend in half, grasping my head with my elbows propped up on my knees.
“You alright?” she asks, but not in a worried tone of voice; rather like someone asking out of politeness, except knowing Roxana, politeness cannot possibly be the reason.
I straighten up, pulling myself closer to the desk on my swivel chair so that the evidence of my “accident” remains concealed. I raise my eyes to Roxana’s face to find her regarding me with ... curiosity. She wasn’t being polite. She was being inquisitive.
I find her sudden interest in my well-being very far indeed from reassuring, disquiet crawling down my spine like a chill. Has she ... noticed something off about me these past few days?
“Tea?” It’s only then that I spot the mug in her hand. “I thought you might want some.”
“Good thinking.” I indicate the slew of papers strewn across my work surface. “Ta, love. I can’t believe I left these until the last minute.”
“Happens.” She shrugs, setting the cup down on the coaster next to my pencil holder.
Then she walks over to my reading armchair. Is it just me, or is she sitting down a little gingerly ... the way someone might after getting their arse whipped with a cane and then fucked?
She regards me with a small, amused smile.
“This weekend has gone by very fast,” she remarks off-handedly as I take my first sip.
I inhale some of the liquid and hack and wheeze, my hand still holding the mug and spilling some of its contents over my students’ essays. I realise at the same time how very drained I feel, fevered, as if I were mortally ill.
“It’s like there hasn’t been one at all,” I croak in response to her.
She lets out a small, guttural ‘hmmm’, a sound as if she had confirmed something for herself. She gets up to her feet again, readying to leave.
“Was it the same for you?” I ask on an impulse.
She stops by the door with one hand on the handle, considering.
“No,” she says after a while. “No, I had a very nice, very ordinary weekend.”
But before I can figure out why she put so much emphasis on the word ‘ordinary’, she walks out.