52 - ROVING HANDS #2
I wanted it. Wanted it deep, wanted it in me, wanted to be doing whatever he told me to do.
He set the pace with his hand in my hair, long, slow, using my mouth like it was his to use, and it was, and that was what I wanted.
Not being pleasured. Being used. Made into pleasure for him.
He pushed deeper and I gagged. He stopped but I kept my hand up and open.
Then he held it there. Deep. Choking me with it.
I stayed exactly where he'd put me, no air, tears coming, and some part of me I'd never met went quiet and glad in a way I had no words for. My hand stayed open and steady.
Then he let go and pulled back and I gasped, dragging air, mouth wet, eyes streaming, and I still didn't move my hand.
He lifted me up off my knees. And then a change I wasn't ready for: he wiped the tears off my face, careful, with his thumb, and kissed me, soft, unhurried, nothing like what he'd just done to me.
Gentle in a way no one had been gentle with me in years.
It went through me worse than the choking had. I didn't know where to put it.
"Beautiful," he said against my mouth. "My perfect girl."
I looked at him through wet eyes. "Thank you."
He walked me back to the bed. "I'm not going to wait anymore."
And then, for the first time all night, an expression crossed his face that wasn't certainty, and he looked around.
"What?" It came out scared. I thought I'd done something wrong. "What is it?"
"Lacey." A beat. "I don't have anything. I didn't plan for this. I don't have a condom."
I reached down and took his cock in my hand.
Maybe I wasn't being a good girl. Maybe I wasn't. I didn't care.
"I don't care, Derek. I don't care. I want you inside me." My voice broke on it. "Please."
He pushed me down onto the bed.
He pushed my legs open, hard, and came down over me and took my wrists, both of them, out at my sides, pinned under his hands into the mattress.
He pushed my legs up. I felt him against my clit, grinding, hard enough to hurt.
"Please, Derek," I gasped. "Please."
"No." Even. Relaxed, even now. "You wait."
He put his mouth on my throat, and bit down where my neck met my shoulder, enough to hurt, and let go. Then I felt him shift, felt the head of him against me, right where I was aching and empty.
"Beg me for it."
"Please, Derek, please—" It poured out of me. "Please fuck me. Please—"
"Louder."
"Please fuck me!" I yelled it, loud, letting myself hear it, the words I'd been raised never to say, out of my own mouth, at the top of my voice, and God, I loved how they sounded.
And he drove in, all at once, no mercy in it, stretching me open too fast and too deep, and it hurt and I didn't want it not to. My back arched up off the bed toward him. I'd never wanted anything the way I wanted that.
Slow strokes and I clenched around him almost instantly, right there, right on the edge. "Yes," I whispered. "Yes—"
He pulled out.
"Please don't— please don't stop—"
"Look at me."
I opened my eyes.
"Making you suffer for it," he said, "is part of what I want." And the thrill of that went through me worse than his hands had.
Then he was back inside, hard.
"Tell me when you're close."
I didn't want to. I knew what it meant, that he'd stop the second I said it. And I knew I'd tell him anyway, because I'd do anything he asked by now.
"Close—" the minute I felt it. And he stopped. Held still, deep, right at the edge and not letting me over, and I almost cried.
"Please don't stop. Please. I want this so much."
"You have to know," he said, even, certain, "deep down."
He did it again. And again. Took me to the edge and held me off it, until the tears came for real, until I was past anything I'd have called myself an hour ago.
"Please, Derek. Please let me come."
"You want to come for me?"
"Yes. I want to come for you. I want to do whatever you want."
"That's my girl."
Then hard, fast, deep. "Please don't stop," I was saying it over and over, "please don't stop—"
"Come for me, Lacey."
And I did, like he'd ordered it out of me, like even that was his, clamping down on him so hard I screamed, pushing up against his hands where they pinned me, back arched off the bed, my whole body going off at once, everything I'd held down my entire life finally, finally let loose.
It seemed to go on forever and I screamed through it, and I could hear myself, and I heard him say, low, "Yeah. That's right."
And just as I was coming down, he came, hard, slamming up against my pubic bone, bruising, and I wanted even that. He sank his teeth into my nipple while he did it, gasping, and the pain went where all of it had been going all night. Then slower, and slower, and I could feel him spilling into me.
He didn't collapse on me the way I thought he would. He held himself up, still buried, still grinding against my clit until I couldn't tell them apart.
Then he pulled out.
"Clean me up, Lacey. With your mouth."
I didn't hesitate. I crawled down the bed and took him in my mouth, tasting him and me together, and I did it because he told me to and because I wanted to, and I'd stopped being able to tell those two things apart.
He put his hand in my hair and stroked it, once.
"Every time," he said. "Every time we fuck, you clean me with your mouth."
I nodded around him.
Every time, I thought. And under it, greedy, already afraid of the answer: How many times do I get to have this?
He pulled me back up to his chest.
I was shaking, inside and out, both at once. I felt cracked open in a way I had no defense for. I didn't know what he wanted now but I would do anything, if he'd just tell me.
"It's okay." His hand came up into my hair, slow. "It's okay, Lacey. Relax. You were perfect. You were beautiful."
He kissed me, soft, nothing left of the man who'd just used me, and it landed harder than any of it had.
"Are you okay? Are you with me?"
I didn't understand why he was asking. It was also the exact thing I needed to hear. I felt like I was surfacing from somewhere with no name, coming up out of deep water, or being born. I couldn't have told you which.
"Yes," I said, automatic. "Yes. I'm fine. I'm wonderful."
"Just relax. Give me a second."
He got up and walked out, and for those few seconds I was alone in his bed, naked in a way that frightened me. Not exposed. Abandoned, the drop coming up fast under me. Then he was back, a bottle of water in his hand, and the floor came back with him.
"Sit up, beautiful."
I did. He knelt beside the bed and held the bottle to my mouth. "Here. Drink."
He held it while I drank, while I blinked myself the rest of the way back into the room.
His thumb moved on my cheek. "How you doing?"
I looked at him, and I was still humming, but now I knew what it was.
"That was unbelievable."