25. Aron
ARON
She squirms underneath me, trapped and completely at my mercy.
Her eyes widen in surprise and then darken with twisted pleasure as my taste drips from my tongue onto hers, the cloudy rope of saliva and cum connecting our mouths.
I watch her swallow with satisfied fascination that has little to do with lust.
I roll off her to lie next to her, propped up on my elbow to be able to see her face. I nearly wrap her in my arms, but I stop myself, because what the fuck am I doing?
On second thought ... if I want to get under her skin and into her heart so that I can break her from the inside, it’s not enough to just fuck her and leave her lying in the dirt.
Torn between wanting to appear like I care whilst guarding myself not to start actually caring, I settle for laying my hand on her chest, teasing her nipples, drawing soft whimpers out of her.
“Can I ask you something?” She looks at me with so much vulnerability in her eyes it’s like a knife to the gut. “But can you please promise not to be an asshole about it?”
“When have I ever been an asshole?” I taunt her, leaving my hand flat on her chest, feeling her heartbeat underneath my fingertips.
“Aron, please ...”
“Just ask already,” I urge her, my curiosity soaring. “I won’t give you a hard time.”
She takes a deep breath, like she’s bracing herself. “Did it ... feel alright?” Her words are rushed but also punctuated by moments of hesitation. “I mean ... inside, did everything feel right? Isn’t there something ... wrong with me?”
Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t that. I stare at her with my mouth open, forgetting to breathe. And then, my reply rushes out of me before I even think about it. “Everything felt perfect. Like you were made for me.”
It is the truth. I’m easily twice her weight, and my cock is the length of her forearm.
I worried she’d be too small to take all of me, too fragile.
But instead, her body fit mine effortlessly and naturally, responding to me, singing under my touch, swallowing every inch of me like she could never get enough.
I’ve been nothing but a drifter ever since my country became a war zone and my home a pile of rubble.
Unmoored in a reality that’s gotten so fractured I can no longer tell the cracks apart from the planes solid enough to stand on.
That’s what being a Rifter is all about; carving your own corner in a world determined to drive you extinct.
But with her trapped underneath me—so deep in her that I could feel her heartbeat on the inside—that was the first time in an eternity that I felt like I didn’t have to fight for a place to belong.
“We should get going,” she says, and I’m glad for the interruption. “We need to find the road and go west. Your bike is parked by the Three Graces Crossroads.”
Fuck that. I’d much rather stay here with her, just the two of us, discovering all the ways I can make her body yield to mine. A dangerous thought. I know I should chase it right out of my head, but I don’t.
“Not so fast, Hotshot.” Her skin whispers underneath my fingertips as I trace her navel.
Her eyes stray to my hardening cock. “Aron ... we need to go. They may have already started looking for you.”
She says that, but her eyes are glued to my growing erection, and she’s biting her lip.
I’d thought she’d be tired and sore, I thought she’d need some convincing, that she’d protest. But she’s a greedy, voracious little thing, more starved for intimacy than I’ve ever seen anyone.
My chest tightens when I imagine all the ways I can cater to that hunger, make her think I’ve satisfied it ...
only to then remind her who I am and who she is to me, to have the feast turn to dust inside of her and leave her hollow.
“We have time.”
“Not if they noticed you’re missing. Aron, please ...” she pleads insistently, but her nails scratch my abs lightly as she slides her hand down my stomach.
Fast as a predator pouncing, I slip my arm underneath her—needles and pebbles cutting into my skin—and I flip her so that she’s on top of me.
With my hands under her ass and her thighs around my hips, I stand up slowly. She weighs nothing.
“Aron ...”
I carry her like this to the huge, moss-covered tree stump nearby, plundering her mouth, swallowing her protests.
“But if they come—”
I slap her ass, the blow sharp, the sting burning in my palm. Her words fall apart in a yelp.
“If they come, I’ll hear them long before they get here,” I growl. “I’m not done with you. That’s all you need to concern yourself with.”
I squeeze her flesh, the warning clear in my touch. She narrows her eyes, and her breathing grows erratic, her cheeks flushed. She obeys. Because she fucking loves this—the more control I want to usurp from her, the more eager she is to surrender it. It’s almost too easy.
“Cross your legs behind me,” I order her, lowering myself to sit down with her on top of me.
I drag my fingers through the wet heat between her legs, and then I line my cock with her entrance, angling it so that once I’m inside her, she’ll feel the piercing press against her front wall.
“It will go in a lot deeper this way,” I warn her. “You’ll be sore for days.”
She nods, expectantly, her breathing shallow, eyes shining like she cannot fucking wait. I think my greedy little slut can handle having her boundaries pushed a little more.
I bring one of my slick fingers further back and press it against her other hole.
“NO! No, don’t!” she shrieks just as I expected, and immediately tries to get away from me.
I hold her writhing in place with a bruising grip on her hip.
“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. This time.” I tease the opening, feeling her tremble in my arms.
“It’s not just about that,” she howls unhappily.
“What then?”
Blood floods her face, and she grimaces like she wants to say “you know”.
It clicks in place. She’s not scared. She’s shy. I throw my head back, laughing. “Just get out of your head, Riley. You’ll love it.”
She blushes deeper. I put more pressure on the finger, forcing my way in just a fraction of an inch. She clenches, trying and failing to resist me, and then she growls unhappily when I finally breach the rim.
“Please stop.” Her voice is strangled, desperate, but nothing that concerns her ever escapes my notice—definitely not the yielding note in her tone, telling me that she likes what I’m doing even if she hates that she does.
“Not a chance,” I assure her, and she looks close to tears. “Aw, Hotshot,” I drawl. “What are you going to do?”
“What? When?” She’s refusing to meet my eyes, but at least she’s stopped wiggling.
“When I have you bent over the edge of my bed with your head hanging down, and it’s my tongue poking around in there instead?” I keep my tone conversational, letting only a pinch of my sadistic enjoyment seep in—like light flavouring. “You may as well just learn to enjoy it.”
She lets out a satisfying, choked kind of noise.
Not giving her a chance to regain her composure, I drag her down my length, both my cock and my finger sinking into her slowly, my piercing caressing her inner wall.
And already I feel her G-spot against my tip, the tissue a little rougher than its surroundings, swollen and ripe.
Fuck, she is so tight and wet and warm! A growl tears up my throat, “Riley, you feel so amazing, it’s unreal.”
She wraps her arms around me and buries her face into my shoulder with a whimper. Seeking comfort from me in a way that has me going a little gooey inside—there’s a lot of trust in her touch, a lot of vulnerability that pleases me for all the wrong reasons.
I leave her be for now, stopping when I’m about halfway inside her.
“Not too much?” It’d be a shame to gut her with my cock just yet.
She mumbles something, her breath warm against my collarbone.
“What’s that?”
“Deeper. I want you deeper.”
“What?”
“Please,” she pleads. “It feels so good.”
Completely thrown off my game, I come up with no better way to react than to let her have her wish, relaxing my hold on her to let her sink lower until she’s taking all of me right down to the hilt.
She moans loudly, the sound sweet and seductive.
Meanwhile, I grunt and groan, my balls already throbbing with the need for another release, pleasure shooting deep into my abdomen.
“Hey, Hotshot. Unless you want my whole fist going up your tight little asshole,” I threaten, barely breathing. “You keep your eyes on me.”
Her gaze locks into mine, both thrilled and terrified.
I set a pace, agonisingly slow, but forceful, making her feel and savour every inch of my advance and retreat through her core, over and over, until both her cunt and her ass are spasming around me, until she has me going insane with the drunk sounds she’s making, ecstasy tearing along my spine.
When I push a second finger up her tight hole, she only digs her fingers into my shoulders, keeping her eyes open and hooked into mine like the good girl she is.
I can tell she’s very close—her clit grinding against me, my piercing trailing across her G-spot, and my finger teasing her more sensitive entrance.
“You’re about to come for me again, aren’t you?” Breaking eye contact, I growl, nipping at her earlobe. “I can feel you spasming all around me like the greedy whore you are. You couldn’t stop even if you tried, could you?”
“What’s your point?” she groans angrily, her breathing uneven.
“I fucking own you, Riley. You’re mine. I’m never letting you go.”
Pleasure coils through me at my words, tightening like wire.
“Say it, Riley. Say you’re mine. Say it.”
There’s something other than my orgasm building up inside of me, a swell of something even more powerful, more dangerous, like a caged beast clawing at the bars of its cage.
I grip her harder, yanking her up and down faster until I have her yelping, the pace too brutal for her to orgasm.
“Say it, you whore! If you want to come on my cock, then fucking say you belong to me.”
“Go to hell, Aron,” she hisses, her glazed eyes nearly rolling, her breathing ragged.
“Riley, I need to hear it. Now.”
Her mutinous glaze clashes with mine.
“Fine. Whatever. Yes, Aron, I belong to you now.”
My release rips through me at her words so suddenly and violently that I almost black out, every muscle in my body tensing.
A guttural cry tears up my throat, my eyes watering.
My grip on her flesh tightens, bruising and painful, but her only reaction to it is her own protracted moan as she shatters too, throwing her head back in a broken scream and arching her back.
Arms locked, we collapse around each other, lost in pleasure together, panting.
“Hey, Riley?”
“What?” she gasps as I ease my fingers out of her.
“I can’t explain it, but I think I made the tableaus for you.”
I meant to say because. Because of you. Not for. What the hell is wrong with me? I made it sound like some sick declaration of love. But she doesn’t seem put off by my word choice, limp and warm in my arms like a drowsy kitten.
“I know.” Her breath is hot on the side of my neck. “I think I’ve always known.”
“Riley?”
“Hm?”
“Why did you let me go? You had all the cards in your hand, all the aces. Why would you do that?”
She raises her head to look me in the face, her eyes sleepy and her hair damp.
Before replying, she gives me a little smile—a smile that holds so much more than just plain satisfaction: sadness, serenity, surrender.
And before the words even fall off her lips—so soft, so damning—the beast inside me reawakens to roar and roam free.
“Because now you’re my heaven as well as my hell.”