Chapter 33
A tattoo on his neck stretched when he clenched his teeth.
“Bend over the couch!” His voice skittered up my legs.
A smile ripped across my mouth, and I almost tripped over my feet as I scrambled to get to the couch. I set myself behind the back of it and braced my arms and chest over the arch.
He walked over to me, taking his time, checking over my poise with approval.
I bit into my lower lip to tame the overly large smile. “What are we doing now?”
“Get that smile off your face.”
I smiled harder. “I’m ready.”
“Fucking hell.”
He looked at me for a long moment, admiring the way I was bent and proud and eager.
He took out a packet of sterilising wipes from his pocket and pulled one out, showed his back to me, took off his sunglasses and cleaned them with a wipe.
I cocked my head trying to find his face, however he had it hidden away.
“Eyes forward,” he said.
I looked ahead.
There was a noise—plastic being torn, I think. A moment later, he positioned himself behind me, his shadow loomed right down onto the couch cushions.
He reached under my t-shirt, setting his hand over my heart. With his free hand he pulled down my underwear. My skin pebbled from being suddenly exposed. I leaned into his hand. He coasted his fingers down, stroking my entrance. I whined, closing my eyes.
“God damn, you’re already wet.”
“Again,” I whispered.
“You clearly want me.”
“I do.” I waited for his fingers to return.
His hand on my chest stroked my heart. Soft at first and then firmer until he had a rhythm going. This was odd foreplay, but I did not complain.
“Come on Princess,” he said. “You can do it.”
“Do what?” I bit my lower lip and pushed my ass closer to him. “I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.”
He tapped my heart. “Where is it?”
“Where is what?” I looked over my shoulder.
“Eyes ahead.”
I whipped my head back around.
Dig left my chest and moved to my back. He ran his finger down each notch in my spine, learning every ridge, sending shivers along my skin. When he landed on my tail bone, he sunk his hands down my thighs and used his knee to knock my legs out wider.
Next, he reached out his arm showing me what he held.
His red heart-shaped sunglasses packed into a condom.
I blinked twice as fast.
“You like these, Princess?” he asked.
Glaring at the sunglasses I nodded like a maniac. “Yes, yes, yes.”
He chuckled and took them back, seconds later something pressed over my clit, the smooth glass of his sunglasses under the condom brought me into slight gasp. I sucked in a shuddering breath at the touch of the plastic frames, opening my mouth in odd glee. “Oh my freckle.”
“Yeah,” he said deeply. “You want to wear them, Princess?”
I needed to scream yes. “Well… they are very nice… not really my personal style, they look very good on you though… yes, I want to wear them.”
“You’re not going to wear them over your eyes.”
I choked out, “alright.”
I stood there, wet and needy, with red heart-shaped sunglasses pressed against my clit, my heart already beginning to spike with adrenaline for what was to come.
His eyes were disclosed. The knowledge of that was enough to rush me into exhilaration.
All I had to do was turn around and I’d be able to see his face.
“Princess.” His lips brushed my earlobe, the sweet heat of his breath skimmed along my cheek. “You’re going to take my—” he paused and cleared his throat. “Do you want me to fuck you with my sunglasses?”
“Yes!”
“You do?” He paused. “Really?”
“Fuck yeah, I do!”
“Let me know if it hurts.”
“It’s not going to hurt.”
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back. My roots screamed on my scalp from the force of it.
I think I found a new kink.
Oh god, I didn’t need anymore.
“You tell me if hurts. I’m going to make your heart jump out of your chest.” He slipped a finger inside of me and pulled on my hair at the same time compelling a cry to heave from the back of my throat like a dying animal.
Pure frenzy wrangled out any sane thought.
I braced myself on the back of the couch, ready to be taken into oblivion by a crazed serial killer and his red heart-shaped sunglasses.
He let go of my hair and slid his finger out of me.
I looked over my shoulder, my lower lip protruding from the lack of his touch.
He got on his knees, holding my thighs open, kissing one of my ass cheeks and then the other.
“Beautiful,” he said.
My chest fluttered.
Before I had a moment to speak, he drove his mouth onto me, licking and sucking, slashing me to shards with just his lips and tongue.
When finally, I was soaking, a touch of plastic pushed at my entrance.
I knew already what it was: the arch of the sunglasses frame.
He pushed until the first frame was in and I gasped at what was now inside of me.
Red, heart-shaped, sunglasses.
Years and years of those stupid things filled up all the territory of my thoughts.
Years and years I had spent with my hands between my legs trying to conjure the imagery of them.
Years and years I had bought hundreds of pairs of red heart-shaped sunglasses but none of them made my skin tingle because they were not his.
And here they were, his red heart-shaped sunglasses, my daydream and nightmare, finally here, finally mine, finally giving me the consequence of my feelings toward them.
“Princess.” Dig stood up, keeping one hand below on the sunglasses that were half inside of me. “Is that okay? Does that hurt? Do you like—”
“Don’t you stop or I’ll turn around and rip your face off!” I wouldn’t do that. I was a good person.
With his free hand, he held me around my waist, keeping me still. While he pressed a kiss to the back of my neck, he began to slip the next frame inside of me. I breathed through it, my brows knotting together, my head running with chaotic thoughts on how I would explain this to my therapist.
“Hold on tight.” Dig reached over and repositioned my hands, making sure I was locked against the couch properly. When he was certain I wouldn’t move again, he shoved the sunglasses in deeper.
I whined through the stretching pressure, keeping my legs open, wanting to be filled.
He reached down between my legs and found my clit with his thumb, sweeping over it gently.
The stinging pain from the sunglasses and the tender fondle over my clit with his thumb mixed into a recipe of touch that had me whining out a new chorus.
Each time he pushed the sunglasses in deeper, he stroked my clit, swapping from pain to pleasure, pleasure to pain.
“You’re doing so good,” he said. “We’re halfway.”
“Only half?”
The pressure of the sunglasses had me close to wailing.
“You want to stop?”
“Don’t stop!”
“Here you go.” Dig’s voice was soft against my ear.
He pushed the last frame inside of me, the touch of his fingers along my entrance stroked my stretched skin. He waited a moment for me to adjust to the new sensation.
My eyes squeezed closed, savouring this moment. “I think there might be something wrong with me.”
“No, Delphine.” Warmth pooled against my neck from his whisper. “The only thing wrong with you, is me.”
I opened my eyes. “Huh?”
He pulled the sunglasses half out of me and pushed them back in.
All colours washed from the world, all sounds dispersed, all I could feel was him and his red heart-shaped sunglasses claiming territory over me, owning my pussy as if it had been made just for him.
The tension and pressure of the sunglasses filled me whole, and he began to fuck me. Pulling them out carefully and back in. My breathing turned rapid and serrated. I unravelled all strain in favour for cruel ecstasy, living and dwelling in this perfect moment.
“You like that?” he spoke through his breath and leaned over me while he fucked me with his sunglasses. Bringing up his hand, he touched my heart, feeling the adrenaline pulsing through my chest. “Oh, yeah, this is going to work.”
Getting back on his knees, he tucked his head between my thighs and found my clit with his tongue, shaking all sanity from my head.
He pumped the sunglasses in and out of me, flicking his tongue, thorough and deliberate, both a perfect combination that worked in harmony to each other.
I flung my head back, whining out the roller coaster as he brought me to the brink of shattering.
I came on his tongue and on his red heart-shaped sunglasses. After I became a quivering mess. Dig pulled his sunglasses out of me carefully and I collapsed right there, into his arms on the floor. I closed my eyes, wandering through the bliss of the orgasm.
Dwelling in the heat of my release, Dig cradled me on his lap, my head tucked over his collar bone. He smelled like blood, like sex, like antique wine. Opening my eyes, I found the fabric of his black shirt, a scar along his neck and a hint of a tattoo.
He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses.
I looked up.
“No!” He pushed my head back down. “Don’t look at me.”
“But—”
He slapped his hand over my eyes, blocking my sight.
His own chest was panting too. “You can’t look at me Princess.”
I frowned in the dark under his hand. “Why not?”
Keeping his hand over my eyes, he shifted his other and felt over my chest. Under his palm, my heartbeat dulled back into an easy rhythm. He sighed. “Not yet.”