Chapter 4 #2
I bite down on the gag, and a moan tries to rip up my throat but gets trapped.
He gives me more.
Tongue stretches more, slides over the clit, drags left to right, right to left, pressing the nub flat then flicking it, again and again until my thighs start to shake.
Every pass makes my clit throb harder, fatter, until it feels like it’s pulsing with its own heartbeat.
I’m dripping now, and he just keeps licking, broad and relentless, until another broken moan claws its way out around the fabric in my mouth.
The next swipe is long. A slow, wet slide from clit all the way back to my hole, and back again. Over and over. My toes splay open in the air, then curl in tight. When he finally circles my hole and spears his tongue inside, I jerk so hard my bound wrists pull tight against the leather.
He pushes his tongue all the way in, swiping the front wall, that one hidden button, again and again and again.
My pussy flutters and grips around the intrusion, leaking more slick onto his tongue.
I can’t stop moving. My hips rock back as much as his grip allows, trying to ride his face, trying to get his tongue deeper, harder, anywhere.
The gag is soaked. My muffled begging is nothing but desperate, broken sounds.
Please—please—more—fuck, I need—
He doesn’t let up. His tongue spears in and out, fucking me open. My thighs are shaking so hard they’re knocking against his ears. My clit is aching, untouched now but swollen and throbbing from how close I am. I’m right there, right on the edge, cunt clenching rhythmically around his tongue.
I can’t stop squirming. Can’t stop moaning. Can’t stop begging through the gag.
But he doesn’t let me finish.
He lets go instead, and my knees hit the mattress with my whine.
A foil packet tears behind me. Fabric rustles. The second sound stacks on the first. Then he’s spreading me, thumb tracing the tight ring of muscle.
I hear him spit before the wet warmth lands, and his thumb follows it, pressing in. The burn is immediate and sharp. He spits again, right onto my hole, working the saliva in with his thumb until I’m slippery and gaping and twitching around his finger.
His thumb pulls out. Something bigger takes its place. The blunt head of his cock presses again, and he doesn’t ease in. He pushes, one steady forward motion that forces me to take him, and the stretch is blinding. A white-hot pressure that shoots up my back and spots my vision.
He bottoms out. Holds. His hips flush against my ass. His breathing torn up the way mine is.
“Fuck,” he says. Almost a whisper. Almost not for me.
Then he pulls back and slams forward, and I scream into the gag.
He’s big. I knew from earlier, but knowing and feeling are different things. He fills me to the limit, the stretch nearly tearing my rim, and the next thrust doesn’t give me time to adjust.
His hands grip my hips and set a rhythm. Deep, full-length strokes that withdraw almost entirely before driving back in. Each one knocks a sound out of me that the gag mashes into a guttural vibration.
His hand reaches around. His fingers find my clit, and I jerk in his grip.
The fullness in my ass. The pressure on my front.
The leather creaks around my wrists. My thighs are shaking.
He rubs in tight, fast circles, his fingers slippery, and I’m already close.
The orgasm is building in my lower belly, a tightening that keeps tightening with no release valve.
“You said-rough.” His voice is behind me. Low and breaking. “Is-this rough-enough?”
I nod into the mattress. Shit. I don’t think I could take more.
“Nod-again if-you want more.”
I nod harder, even if my body is at its limit. I asked for this. I won’t be the one to call it.
“Fuck-take-this. Take it all.”
And that’s it. He changes the angle, so the head hits the taint with each thrust. The bed batters the wall, steady and loud, and that’s the only thing I can hear or remember before he’s bulldozing his way into my ass past its tolerance. Past mine.
“Come-on-my cock.” He grunts. “Come-on-my cock.”
And I come. The release gushes out, running down my thighs, drenching the comforter under my knees.
My body convulses, every muscle locking and releasing, and I’m screaming into the gag, biting the cotton so hard my jaw aches.
He doesn’t stop. He fucks me through it, his hand still working my clit, drawing the orgasm out until I’m shaking and oversensitive and trying to pull away from his hand, but it’s impossible to escape the grip of a man who is pure muscle.
“I’m going to fill this ass,” he warns. “Going to pump you full and watch you leak.”
His hands tighten their grip, and he drives in deep. Once, twice, three more strokes, and then he stills. He throbs inside me; I feel every twitch. He groans, an animal at the kill.
“Fuck. Fuck.“
Then he pulls out slowly while I hiss through the gag. He unbuckles the belt from my wrists, and I let my arms fall to the mattress, the blood rushing back into my fingers in a hot, tingling flood. Then he pulls the fabric from my mouth, and I spit the taste of cotton onto the pillow.
Rolling onto my back, I look up. I trace the crack with my eyes and let my breath come back to me.
From my periphery, I know Kai is standing beside the bed. Pants down, looking at me. But I don’t look at him because his hands, which were so steady on my hips a few seconds ago, are trembling at his sides.
I smile in my head. “Finish packing.”