Octavia
Anger burns in his eyes. He looks at me, then away, nodding once to himself as if reaching a decision.
He drags me towards him until my head tips back over the edge of the mattress.
I look at him upside down.
He undoes his belt slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. His jeans hit the floor, followed by his boxers. He steps out of them without breaking eye contact, watching me intently. The hoodie comes next, he tosses it aside.
“You’re going to suck me off,” he says. “Give me that filthy mouth of yours.”
I lick my lips, but he doesn’t give me time to think.
“Open wide,” he commands.
I do as he says.
“Watch your teeth.”
He thrusts into my mouth in one brutal movement. I gag, my eyes watering straightaway, but I open for him, taking him as deep as I can.
He doesn’t ease up.
He fucks my mouth with abandon, the angle punishing, forcing him impossibly deep. Tears spill along my temples as I struggle to breath, yet the pleasure builds low, unbearable and addictive.
I reach for my pussy without thinking.
His hand snaps down, slapping mine away.
“I don’t recall allowing you to touch yourself.”
He thrusts harder into my mouth, and I gag again.
“That’s it. Take it. Take it all. Fuck me. Your mouth feels obscene around my cock.”
My vision blurs and my lungs burn. I am right on the brink of blacking out when he suddenly pulls free.
“You’re a brute,” I manage hoarsely.
“But you love it,” he adds. “Breathe through it.”
He is back inside my mouth before I can recover. I grab at him on instinct, and he pulls out again.
“Whose T-shirt is it?”
I shake my head.
“Very well.” He thrusts back in.
He fucks my mouth until I feel his body tighten, his pace turning rough and urgent.
“Fuck,” he growls. “I’m coming in that pretty mouth of yours. And you’re going to swallow it all, aren’t you?”
I barely manage to nod.
The position we’re in, my head hanging off the bed, drives him impossibly deep. Pain and pleasure blur together until I can no longer tell where one ends and the other begins.
He hits the back of my throat as he comes with a harsh groan.
“Yes,” he grits out. “That’s it. Take it. Every single drop. Don’t waste any.”
I gag, but manage to swallow, trembling as he empties himself into my mouth.
“Good girl,” he praises darkly.
He pulls out slowly, looking down at me with something dangerously close to tenderness, until the smirk returns.
“So,” he says calmly. “Whose T-shirt is it?”
I am wrecked, my pussy aching. I am so desperate I need him inside me now, and the denial of orgasm only makes it ten times worse.
I shake my head again.
He moves around the bed. I am too spent to follow him properly, until he abruptly turns me onto my stomach, positions my arse high in the air, and a slap lands hard against one cheek.
“Damn,” I mutter.
The sting blooms into pleasure, and all I can think about is how much better it would feel with him inside me.
“Count for me,” he says. “You get ten.”
“You know why?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Words,” he grits out.
“Why?”
“This is your punishment for hurting what’s mine,” he says, and I can hear the dark smirk in his voice. “Though it hardly counts as punishment when you enjoy it this much.”
Another spank lands against my arse.
“Count,” he orders.
“Two,” I pant.
Another slap follows, then a few more in quick succession.
“I don’t hear you.”
“Seven,” I gasp.
I feel his mouth between my thighs as he licks, followed by three more slaps, one after the other.
“Ten,” I say, just as his tongue circles my clit.
My pussy clenches, and I cry out, so sensitive I almost come, then he stops again, and I groan.
He doesn’t move for several seconds. Then he pushes two fingers inside me, and I clamp around them instantly.
I am right on the edge, right there, when his mouth lifts from my clit and his fingers withdraw without warning.
Again.
Damn it.
Damn him.
I let out a frustrated sound, somewhere between a growl and a gasp.
“I’m going to kill you,” I pant, pressing my face into the mattress.
He turns me abruptly onto my back.
I groan, dragging my hands over my face, unbearably frustrated. I need it—need release so badly it feels physical, like a pressure behind my ribs.
“You don’t come,” he says, moving closer, looming over me. “Not until I give you permission to.”
He nips my clit with his teeth. I cry out as he drags his tongue slowly up my stomach. He bites my nipples, one and then the other, before capturing my mouth in a kiss that is all teeth.
I have never felt anything this consuming in my entire life.
“I think I need to let you cool down before I touch you again,” he murmurs with a crooked smile, lifting his weight from me.
“No,” I almost scream in protest.
He laughs, actually laughs, and the sound does something dangerous to my chest.
His eyes drop back to the fresh cuts.
“You keep disobeying me,” he growls. “And I don’t like it, gorgeous.”
“I never agreed to listen to you,” I shoot back.
His lips lift. “Your mouth says that. Your body tells a different story.”
“You got ten spanks this time,” he says evenly. “But if I see you hurt yourself again, next time will be very different.”
He takes my mouth in his. “Do you need to feel something?”
He licks a slow path over my skin. “That’s all right. I get it.”
“Did I make you feel something with my body?”
I nod.
“Words,” he grits out.
“Yes.”
“Then next time you feel the need to feel something,” he growls, “you come to me. And I’ll make sure you feel plenty.”
His tongue leaves a wet trail over my body as he pulls away.
“I need to be inside you like I need air,” he growls. “Fuck, I don’t even need air. I just need you.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Please.”
“I love it when you beg.”
He enters me in a single, brutal thrust, so sudden and deep I cry out, my fingers clawing at the sheets as he holds me in place while I struggle to adjust to his length, before he withdraws and slams back in again and again.
“I need you to move,” I gasp. “I need—”
He watches himself disappear inside me, utterly satisfied. “Fuck. My cock is exactly where it belongs.”
I try to touch him, to touch myself, but he pins my wrists above my head and increases his pace, stealing every option.
His mouth captures mine, his tongue invading as he fucks me relentlessly, before his teeth sink into my neck, hard, and it tips me over the edge, I shatter around him without warning.
I come, and he keeps moving until the last tremor fades, then pulls out suddenly, watching me darkly.
“I don’t remember giving you permission to come yet,” he says.
Before I can protest, he flips me onto my stomach and enters me from behind, his weight pressing me into the mattress as his thrusts drive deep and they steal my breath.
One hand closes around my neck, forcing me further down as he pushes into me again and again.
I’m shaking, desperate, ready to come a second time.
“Whose T-shirt is it?” he demands.
“Adriano,” I choke out as his grip tightens around my neck, because if he doesn’t let me come this time, I swear I’ll make him acquainted with my blade.
He keeps thrusting as my vision blurs, the sensation overwhelming, too much and not nearly enough.
I want it all.
“What did you say?”
“If you’d stop cutting off my oxygen,” I snap, or try to, between gasps, moans, and broken breaths, “you’d actually be able to hear me.”
“Did you just say you can breathe?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply, not adding that I’m thriving on every sensation right now, that I don’t want him to stop.
He thrusts again and again.
“I know, gorgeous,” he says evenly. “If I wanted you to breathe, I’d let you.”
The pressure, the lack of oxygen, the overwhelming force of him is too much. My vision blurs as his thrusts become harder, faster, his other hand finding my clit.
“Come for me. Now.”
I obey.
Fucking finally.
The orgasm hits me so hard I keep clenching around him until I feel him pulse and spill inside me, coating my walls.
I register, distantly, that I’m on birth control, thank God, because when it comes to him, neither of us knows restraint.
Then the tension finally breaks, and I let go.
Darkness takes me.