one #2
His muscular, tattooed arms bracket my head, and he plants a quick kiss on the tip of my nose. “Come on, Em. I made you cum twice already. Don’t be selfish now.”
“I’m not,” I protest.
“I wasn’t going to fuck you when you were a virgin,” he says. “I’m too big for that. But now that you aren’t… What’s the holdup? You’ve already done it.”
“I know, but…”
“Haven’t I made you feel good?”
“Yes, but—”
“I always will,” he promises, his eyes going serious. “I’ll take care of you, Mercy. You can trust me. I’m not just out to get off. I’m here for you. To make you cum. It’ll feel so good. I promise.”
He kisses me before I can answer, his lips coaxing and gentle and warm.
And I do trust him. I do feel good. I feel safe in his arms, in the dim light of the candle he lit and set next to the bed, in the warmth of his embrace that always comforted me, even when we were kids watching scary movies when our parents weren’t around or hiding from the priests who chased us out of the graveyard.
Angel’s tongue dips into my mouth, a tease, before he draws it out.
I open for him, craving more, and he gives it.
He works his hand between us, undoing the button on his jeans and pulling them down. I gasp in shock when I feel his hot, bare, hairy groin against my bare sex. I expected him to be wearing underwear, but we’re suddenly skin to skin.
He grinds, slow and sensuous, against my center.
My breath picks up speed, and he tugs my hand over my head, linking his fingers with mine.
His other hand grips my thigh, tugging it aside.
The hard, hot ridge of his erection crushes against my tender flesh, still bruised and sore and torn, but throbbing with pleasure.
I feel a strange hardness, too, foreign and unyielding.
He moans into my mouth, and I feel his body shudder against mine when my wetness blooms over his length, coating him.
“Just let me put it in one time,” he says, his voice rough with desire and need.
“It’s too big,” I answer as he notches it against my entrance.
“Just let me put it in once,” he says. “I promise I won’t fuck you. I just want to feel how you fit around me. Come on, baby. I’m in pain too. I’ve had blue balls since the day you showed up on campus.”
He takes my other hand and pulls it down, wrapping it around himself.
I suck in a breath. He’s even bigger than I thought, too big to close my hand around, and there are hot beads of metal along his length.
His skin is smooth as silk, and I run my thumb over the tip, finding it wet.
Angel lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a hiccup and a moan.
“Please,” he says, begging as shamelessly as I do whenever they push me to the edge and I need to reach the end. It makes me feel better to know I’m not the only one who does that, that I can make him that needy too.
“It won’t fit,” I say, biting my lip and looking up at him.
“Just try,” he says, resting his forehead against mine, his breath hot on my lips. “Watch.”
“Watch what?”
“Watch me put it in,” he says.
“I don’t know…”
“Have you ever looked at your pussy?” he asks, drawing back and smirking while his fingers graze up the bottom of my thigh. He slides his hand around my hip, cupping my bottom.
“No,” I admit, scowling at him.
He slides his fingers down my crack, tapping my back entrance and chuckling when it contracts.
“What about this sweet little hole?” he asks.
“No,” I protest, my cheeks heating.
“Not even in a mirror?”
“No.”
“Then you definitely need to watch this,” he says, kneeling up.
His cock stands straight up against his belly, almost a foot long and ribbed with thick veins, dark and foreboding against the backdrop of his tattooed skin.
Eight pairs of silver studs line the underside, shiny against his velvet skin.
The crown is impossibly thick, as big as my fist at the base, sleek and red, a dark ring of skin pulled down just below it.
My core clenches at the sight, but Angel just grips my hips and lifts me onto his thighs. His length presses against my belly, trapped between us, and my throat goes dry when I feel it throb.
“How do I get on it?” I ask, my voice faint.
He chuckles and lifts me up, tilting me back a little at the same time.
“Feet on the bed,” he orders. “Then spread your pussy and look.”
I swallow hard, then reluctantly obey his command.
I can’t see everything, but what I can see is red and wet, glistening and…
Erotic. It’s not embarrassing like I thought.
In fact, just looking makes me wetter, especially when he grips his shaft and steers the head of his massive erection to meet it.
He taps it against my wet flesh, letting me feel the first piercing, then slaps it against it hard enough to make a wet sound echo through the room.
“Hold it open for me,” he says, his voice gruff, notching his tip against my entrance again.
“I can’t see,” I protest.
He lays me back on the bed, and I push up on my elbows, watching the thick head of his cock fight to breach my entrance. It’s as big as a tennis ball, but tapered toward the tip, and already slick with his arousal. He rocks up on his knees, and I gasp in pain as he starts to sink it into me.
“Angel,” I cry.
“Yes, baby girl?” he says, rocking forward and back, working to stretch me. At last, he leans forward on one fist on the mattress and rolls his hips, forcing the entire head inside me.
I cry out in pain at the stretch, tears springing to my eyes. I’m already sore and swollen, and his intrusion is torture.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans, leaning down over me. He kisses my eyelids, wipes my tears with his thumbs. His hips roll in a sensuous rhythm as he slides almost all the way out and then forces in again.
“It hurts,” I cry, more tears spurting out as my flesh protests, my skin stretched so tight it feels like it’ll tear.
“It’ll pass,” he promises, going still with just the head wedged inside me. “Just relax and let me in.”
“I—I can’t.”
“Just breathe,” he coaxes. “I know you’re in pain, but baby girl, it feels like fucking heaven to me.”
He pulls out and pushes back in with one slow, powerful roll of his hips. I cry out, bucking under him, and he leans down and kisses me. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop moving and let you adjust. Tell me when the pain eases and I can go deeper.”
“I don’t think you can,” I whisper, tears spilling down my temples. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say sorry, baby,” he says, his brow furrowing in the sweetest little frown of entreaty. “We’ll get there. Sometimes you have to work up to it, that’s all.”
I nod, and he lowers himself onto me, holding his weight on his elbows but letting me feel the heat of his warm, smooth skin against mine.
His chest grazes over mine, and my nipples stiffen into tight peaks.
His mouth claims mine, his tongue stroking mine with a deliciously sensuous rhythm.
The stretched skin between my legs starts to ache less, and then I feel flutters down there, and a tingling that soon soaks him with my arousal.
He moans and rolls his hips, but it only stings a little as he goes in and out, in and out, just using the tip like Heath did earlier.
“You said you wouldn’t fuck me,” I gasp out when I feel a new pain, a new stretch, as he eases in further.
“I’m just fucking you with the tip,” he says, his hips flexing as he rolls them, his body a chiseled work of art over mine.
“You’re not,” I protest, trying to push up on my elbows to see again. It feels like he’s going deeper with every pass, giving me a new inch each time his hips grind.
“Trust me, baby girl,” he whispers, raising onto his hands so I can’t see how far he’s stretching me, how deep he’s going. “Count the rungs of my piercing. That way you’ll know how deep I can still go.”
“I can’t see them,” I point out, my breath hitching as he stays still, his fat cock feeling like a fist inside me.
“Count with your pussy,” he whispers.
He takes both my hands and pulls them above my head, his mouth finding my throat, my ear, sending shivers of erotic pleasure coursing through me. His hips roll and his girth opens me deeper and deeper.
“Please,” I beg, not sure anymore if I’m asking him to stop or to give me all of it, until I can’t take it anymore. Tears slip out the corners of my eyes, and the sting is so intense I’m gasping for breath, but pleasure is building in a deep, raw ache inside my core.
“Please what, baby girl?” Angel asks, slowing the motion of his hips.
He strokes my hair back and kisses my damp forehead, the crease between my brows, the tip of my nose.
Then he smiles down at me, like he knows how crazy this is all making me.
I can feel him still inside me, so deep and thick I think I’ll scream.
But when he doesn’t move, the scream turns into something else, something urgent and desperate.
“Please,” I say, my hips jerking under him, lifting, trying to impale myself further. He’s so thick I can’t slide further onto him, though.
“How many are inside?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Count.”
He drags his girth out slowly, letting me feel every detail of his shaft with my abused flesh. “Only four?” I choke out.
“See, not so bad, is it?” he asks, grinning down at me.
His mouth finds mine, his lips a torturous tease, his hips resting between mine, his cock stretching me wide.
He gives me another inch, then another, but when he gets to the sixth piercing, I can’t take more.
Even when I finally adjust, and need ripples through me along with the pain, I can feel him bottoming out inside me.
“I think that’s enough,” he whispers against my lips. “That’s all I wanted. Just to feel the depths of your cunt squeezing my bare cock. God, I want to cum inside you right now.”
“No,” I cry, my eyes flying wide. “I—You can’t.”