Chapter 13
I detect movements behind my back.
I feel tugs and pulls at my arms and my shoulders and my head seems to be cradled on something smooth and hard. I want to look up and see what’s going on, but I’m too weak right now and kinda pissed too about the interruption, so all my energy is going into that. I realize I’m being picked up and taken somewhere. There are strong arms wrapped around me, his, and I can feel my side pressed to his harshly breathing chest.
Then I’m being moved again, and I feel a mattress at my back. Finally, my eyes blink open and his flushed and sweaty and harsh and beautiful face fills my vision. He’s concerned. I can see that. His hands are shaking as he grasps my face.
“You… Are you okay? Are you?—”
I go to touch his face myself and when I realize that I can, my arms fly with eagerness and relief, landing on his hard jaw. “D-did it help?”
He frowns, his fingers twitching around my face. “What?”
“With y-your day,” I clarify, wiping the sweat off his brows. When all he does is remain silent, I begin, “You… s-said that?—”
He stops me with a kiss.
He fuses our mouths together and kisses and kisses and fucking kisses me. In the back of my mind, I’m thinking that he’s kissing me like I am, all messed up and drool-y, my lips swollen and trashed. But he doesn’t seem to mind.
I think he likes it.
Because his kiss is messy as well. His kiss is so wet and hot and dripp-y and sticky like sugar. We rub our mouths together, our lips slipping over each other. And it gives me life. It makes me horny and in turn angry that he’s not doing what I want him to do. He’s not fucking me or giving me his cum like he promised.
So I wrap my thighs around his waist and lift myself up from the bed, almost hanging off his lower half. So I can press our hips together. So I can rub my messy pussy up against his ridged stomach. And even though I love his kisses—I do—I fist his hair and break it.
Then, panting against his mouth, “Fuck me.”
His hands are still framing my face, his thumbs digging into my cheeks possessively. “Baby, you?—”
Glaring, I arch under him. “No, no arguments. I don’t even care what you think right now or how w-we shouldn’t do this or whatever. I’m horny, okay? That was the hottest thing ever and I-I need you. I need you to make it better for me l-like I did for you, and you promised.” I fist his hair. “You fucking promised. You said that if I saw stars, you’d give me your cum. And I did see stars, but where’s your cum? I don’t have it. Where is it? And on top of that, I’m horny and you don’t even have the decency to fix it. You don’t?—”
Again, as much as I love his kisses, I don’t like it when he uses them to shut me up. Well, I do, yes. But not right now. Not when I haven’t even gotten to the main part yet.
So again, I yank at his hair and break it.
This time, his frown is thicker. His displeasure is evident on his face, but I don’t care and before he can express it, I pant against his mouth, “And no condoms.”
I swear I feel him jerk over me. I swear I feel him shudder. His voice at least sounds thicker and rougher than usual. “Dora, that’s?—”
“Irresponsible, I know,” I tell him, squeezing my thighs around his torso. “But then I am irresponsible. I am reckless. You’re the one with all the control in the world, aren’t you? You’re the one who’s supposed to save me. So save me then.” I look into his dark, lust-blown eyes. “Figure out a way to give me what I want while keeping me safe at the same time.”
I don’t know why this is so important to me, but it is.
It’s important to somehow show him I can take him however he comes. It doesn’t matter if he’s having a bad day or a good day. If this is a good time or a bad time. I’ll always trust him. I’ll always take whatever he gives me.
Because I know now.
I know he’s both good and bad.
I know he’s the good guy and the asshole at the same time.
I know.
So when he doesn’t act fast enough for my liking, I go to fight with him some more. I’ll keep fighting him until he surrenders.
But he upends my reality again.
He jerks back from me, unlocking himself from the cage of my thighs and arms. I see his dick bob between us, all hard and throbbing, all wet and dripping with his cum and from my mouth. Before I can get him to stop or pull him back, he’s turning me around.
So now instead of my back, my knees and arms hit the mattress. Instead of him being pressed up against my front, his chest is at my back and his jaw is at my neck.
I turn my face to the side. “What are you… What are you doing?”
He sucks on the side of my neck, giving me a hickey, I think. “Showing you decency and fixing it.”
“But I?—”
He jerks at my arms and pulls me upright until I’m just on my knees, my spine plastered against his massive chest. He grips my throat—still all sticky and drenched with my own drool—with one hand while the other goes to my hip.
Squeezing his fingers on my body, he growls, “But you’re taking it how I give it to you.” I feel him move, our sweaty skin sliding against each other. “You’re taking it like the reckless, thoughtless, cum-stealing slut you are. From behind.”
With that, he thrusts into me and oh my God, it’s so forceful, that first stroke of his cock. It’s so delicious and divine and yes, painful as well. Probably because I’m still not used to taking him in my pussy. I’m still more or less a virgin and he’s still so big that he touches all things inside of me, all at once.
Whatever it is, his first thrust is overwhelming.
It’s everything and more.
And inevitably, words fall out of me as my back arches to take him in deeper. “Oh, thank God.”
Which of course pisses him off.
I realize that later. As his fingers around my neck tighten to the point where I think he’s this close to controlling my breaths again. And his hand at my hip makes fists out of my flesh, pulling and tugging, branding me with just his grip.
Followed by his growl in my ear, “What’d you say?”
“I—”
He shuts me up with his thrust.
Actually, no. He makes all the words spill out of me as I moan. “Oh God, please. I?—”
Again, he squeezes my throat, branding my hip with his fingers. “God, huh. You think”—another thrust—“God’s doing this to you?”
My own hands jerk and go to cover his on my body. “I’m… I don’t…”
One more thrust, this one leaving behind a slapping sound of his hips hitting my ass. “You think God’s fucking you, baby? God’s fucking that tight as all fuck pussy.”
I swallow under his grip. “No. I?—”
Yet another thrust. This one harder than the last and I swear the last one was the hardest ever, even compared to last night, and I feel him clear to my stomach with this. “You what?”
I swallow again, turning my head to the side, pleading with him. “It’s h-hard.”
He turns his head too and I feel his words on the side of my face. “What’s hard?”
I flex my fingers over his grip. “N-not saying… His name. You’re?—”
This time his thrust jerks my whole body. It jangles my nerves and jars my bones. It makes me spill out His name in a litany, in a prayer. Although I’m not sure what I’m praying for: do I want him to stop, this devious, torturing man, the love of my life who’s deliberately making me break his rule.
Or do I want him to keep going?
Do I want him to keep pushing into me like this, all forcefully and urgently. Like if he doesn’t, he won’t survive the next second. Because that’s what it feels like right now with the way he’s fucking me, with the way he’s holding me as well. Giving me a hug from behind as he strokes in and out of me, all violently and oh so deeply.
“I’m what?” he rasps in my ear, his breaths hot and misty.
Much like his body behind me, all around me. “You’re making me s-say it.”
“Yeah?” He squeezes my throat again, making me arch it back and rest my head on his strong shoulder. “What an unfair asshole am I, huh. Making you do things that are hard.”
“Stellan—”
“But that’s not hard, baby. I’m afraid to burst your bubble.” Another jangling, smacking thrust. “But that’s nothing.”
“I—”
“You want to know what’s hard? You want to know what’s fucking hard? This.” He rotates his hips, making me feel his cock everywhere. Making me feel his cock down to the tips of my toes. Making me feel every ridge and every inch of that vein that I was stroking with my tongue and I moan again.
God, will I ever stop moaning, in pain, in ecstasy, in love?
And in the wake of my moan, he continues, “This dick I’m fucking you with, that’s hard. It’s so fucking hard that it hurts. It hurts to fucking fuck you right now.”
I dig my nails into the backs of his hands. “Stellan?—”
“And it’s only going to get harder, isn’t it?” he cuts me off. “It’s only going to get much, much harder because now I have to figure out a way not to come inside this pussy.” As if to emphasize, he jerks his hips hard into me. “I have to figure out a way not to lose my nut inside your tight fucking snatch like I’m losing my mind right now. I’m losing my mind over how tight this cunt is, how warm and wet it is. Wet like a fucking river. Swollen as always like a ripe fruit. But instead of enjoying this fruity pussy, I have to figure out a way to pull out and protect you, isn’t it?”
I roll my head on his shoulder. “P-please, you?—”
“Protect your womb from my cum,” he goes on, pounding into me, his fingers pulling and squeezing. “When that’s not what I want to do right now. That’s not what I want to do at all.”
He pauses here and for the next several seconds simply fucks me.
Thank God—I mean, thank you, Stellan.
I don’t even want to break his rule in my thoughts. Because I have a feeling he can read them. He can read my thoughts, hear my heartbeats.
He can feel my soul calling out for him.
Maybe that’s why he says what he says next:
“What I want to do right now,” he begins, his words a rough whisper in my ear and his cock a rough, pulsating invasion in my pussy, “is push so far in, so fucking far up your fertile little cunt that you feel me in your womb. That instead of your pussy, I fuck your womb. I fuck the very thing I’m trying to protect. And then when it’s time to come, I come so much, so fucking much, that your womb swells up. Your womb fucking hurts with my cum. As much as I’m hurting right now. And then every time you walk, baby, you feel a little bit of me drip out of you. You feel a little bit of my cum sliding down your juicy thighs. And not just for days, for weeks. For fucking weeks, I want my jizz to slip out of you, reminding you of the hurt. Of how much you’re hurting me right now. How hard it is to pull out right now.”
At this, I bring my hands away from his and go up.
I push them in his damp hair—damp from the shower earlier and damp from the sweat—and arch my back even more. I press my face to the side of his neck and whisper, “I-I’m sorry.”
He huffs out a breath, sliding his arm around my tummy, pressing the thumb of his other hand on my pulse. “No, baby, you’re not sorry yet. You will be, though. One day.”
“H-how?”
“Because one day”—he presses me into his body hard while at the same time pushing into me with his cock—“you’re going to realize you’ve missed it. You’ve missed your period, yeah? One day, you’re going to remember what happened tonight. What you made me do. How much you made me fucking hurt and lose my mind that I came inside of you. And you know what happens when a man comes inside of a pussy as fertile and as ripe as yours, don’t you? You get pregnant. So you’ll be sorry then, won’t you? You’ll be sorry that you made me put a baby in your belly and breed the fuck out of you. Maybe then, you’ll know what’s hard.
“If I leave behind a little surprise for you. A little surprise you’ll want to hide, but you can’t. Because it’s the kind of surprise that’ll grow over the next nine months, won’t it? It’ll stretch your body, your little belly, make it swollen. It’ll stretch your tits, make them all ripe and juicy with milk. It’ll stretch your cherry nipples too. Make them just as hard and swollen and juicy, and even more tempting than they are right now.”
I moan when he goes up and grips my tits. When he pulls and twists my nipples as if he’s imagining it right now.
“But that’s not the worst part, is it?” he keeps going, driving me crazy and yes, making things hard for me, making everything so fucking hard and swollen and sweaty and lusty; probably just as much as I’m making things for him. “The worst part is that you’re engaged. To my twin brother. And so on the day of your wedding, you’ll walk down the aisle like that. You’ll walk down the aisle, all swollen and ripe with my baby. On the day of your wedding, your tits will drip with milk, your nipples will hurt, your belly will hurt. And you’re going to have to let me drain them, won’t you? You’re going to have to let me suck on your tits, like you always, always wanted, and feed me before saying I do. And from what I hear, it’s the kind of thing a groom frowns upon, his bride getting titty-fucked before she pledges her life to him. And you’re getting titty-fucked if I’m getting anywhere near those milky tits. Not to mention, you’ll be late for the wedding too. Because if I’m sucking your tits and fucking them, I’m also getting a ride in your pregnant pussy. And again, that’s not something a groom is going to approve of. So maybe then, fucking then, you’ll learn the meaning of hard.”
“S-Stellan, I think I-I’m going to…”
“Then you’ll learn to say my name with every breath you take. How every word out of your fucking mouth should be nothing but my name,” he growls, his hips working and working, smacking against my butt, his dick stroking in and out of me. “Then you’ll learn how hard you make it to protect you. How hard you make my job. How hard you make it to not go crazy and lose it. How hard you make every-fucking-thing in my already fucked life.”
And then I think he’s run out of words.
He’s said all he could and now all that’s left is fucking me and fucking me hard.
I have the same problem of not being able to say anything. But that doesn’t mean I can’t show him. That I can’t show how sorry I am for everything and how much I want to love him and soothe him. So I grab his cheek, turn his face, and touch my lips to his.
The moment I do, he groans and sighs at the same time as if this is it. This is what he was looking for, the taste of my lips, the love of my kiss. And so at his obvious relief, I come around him. My pussy spasms and gushes. Which is what makes him come too. I know because he groans again. Although this time it’s louder and as if in pain. As if he really is so hard that he can’t bear it.
But even so, even as hard as he is and as hard as this task is, he pulls out.
He pulls out of me in a jerk and God, God he…
He notches the head of his dick against that tight hole that’s even tinier than my pussy. The hole he was talking about while scaring me away from sucking him off. He pushes his fat head just inside my asshole and comes in there. I feel the stretch, the sharp burn of it before it gets replaced by the heat of his lashing cum. And I know why he did that: I wanted his cum and he gave it to me. He found a way to give me what I want while keeping me safe. So I tighten my arms around his neck, his face; I tighten my fingers in his hair and deepen our kiss to show him my gratitude, to show him my love. As he jerks and groans, his forehead dropping on my shoulder and his arms spasming, holding me tightly.
Almost painfully.
But I bear the pain because he bore it for me.
We did it.
And I can’t help but smile up at the ceiling. I can’t help but sag against him in relief and laziness. But he comes through for me even now. He turns me around until I’m facing him and gently lowers me on the bed.
He settles himself between my thighs, his body all delicious and panting over mine, and once again frames my face with his fingers. Then, urgently, “You okay?”
I study his flush-darkened features and rub the frown between his brows lightly, smiling lazily. “I think I’m more than okay. I think I’m fabulous.”
Even with my words, he has to go ahead and take stock of my features. He has to study my features with his own pretty eyes to make sure I really am okay. And when he sees that I am, a large breath escapes him and he finally, finally sags against me.
Oh, and he hugs me.
He brings his arms around and under my body and presses my curves against his hard planes, tucking his face in the nape of my neck. And my smile widens because I think along with being a cuddler, he’s a hugger too. In fact, I think he’s a major hugger. Remember how he wouldn’t let me go last night even during sex? And tonight too. The entire time we were plastered against each other, every part of me was touching every part of him.
Grinning, I squeeze him to me. “I think you’re a hugger too.”
He mumbles in my neck, “This is not a hug.”
“This is absolutely a hug.”
“I don’t hug.”
“You hug me, though.”
He grunts in response.
I play with the sweaty ends of his hair. “Thanks for sewing my dress.”
Another grunt.
“Did you learn how to sew for your sister?”
He nods.
“Because no one else would learn it?”
He nods again.
I squeeze my arms around him once again tightly. As tightly as my heart is squeezing right now. Then, tilting my head to the side and rubbing my cheek on his heated forehead, “Thanks for the rose.”
He hums.
“I ate it.”
He finally looks up, hair falling over his forehead. “You ate it?”
“Uh-huh.” When he keeps looking at me like I’m crazy, I explain, “That’s why they’re my favorite flowers because you can eat them. Or else pink magnolia would have the top spot.” When he still looks at me like I’m crazy, I explain further, “Hey, it’s better than letting them perish or sticking them in the pages of a book like a lovesick fool. This way those roses are a part of me, my blood.”
Now he looks at me with a different light in his eyes. A fond, indulgent light. And I blush as I continue, “And if you think I’m crazy for eating a rose, you’re even crazier for giving it to me.”
“Yeah, how’s that?”
“Because you gave it to me based on a very fanciful and imaginary incident,” I tell him, sliding my fingers up and down his sweaty back. “You know that, don’t you? You didn’t actually set a rose on fire. It was all in my head.”
“So I guess I’m crazier than you.”
“I guess so.”
“They’re still your favorite flowers, though, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“So then you should get one every day,” he says conclusively before going back to tucking his face in my neck. “And if that gets me the top spot at being crazy then so be it.”
I smile again—because God, he is crazier than me and I love him so, so much—and rub my cheek in his hair. “I unpacked your things.”
He huffs out a breath. “I saw.”
“I think we had sex on your books,” I share next.
Although at no point did I feel anything digging into me or rustling or getting crunched beneath me. So I think his books are safe. But he doesn’t seem to share my worries because all he does is shrug in response.
I bite my lip. “I have to confess something.”
“What?”
“I only unpacked your things because I was snooping.”
Then, cringing my face, I wait for him to get angry. I even expect him to lay into me when he once again untucks his face and looks down at me. “Snooping.”
“Yes.” I nod. “Only because I think you have a deep, dark secret that you won’t tell me about. And so I had to take matters into my own hands.”
And again, I expect him to go tight and angry over my body. Instead, something like amusement flashes through his features. “Good thing I don’t hide it in my suitcase, huh.”
I flicker my eyes over his features. “You’re not mad?”
His chest moves with a breath. “The thing is, Dora, that with you, I think I’m going to have to pick my battles. And I’m dead tired tonight.”
Slowly, I grin and squeeze my limbs around him. “Excellent choice! I totally think you should save this response. Because there are going to be a lot of battles for you in the future.”
His lips twitch. “Are you done?”
“With what?”
“With pillow talk.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Why?”
His eyes flick back and forth between mine. “Because I’d like to give you a bath before finally fucking going to bed.”
“A bath?”
“I may be an asshole who broke your dreams of a romantic blow job and instead fucked your throat into submission, but I’m an asshole with manners. It’s called aftercare.”
“And that includes a bath?”
“And ginger and honey tea for your throat.”
I smile again. “A cuddler, a hugger, and a tea maker with a deep, dark secret. You sure you’re real? Because I think you live in a romance novel. That I will finally break my no-reading rule for.”
He takes me in for a final time before, he says, “Yeah, you’re done.”
And then he picks me up from the bed and carries me to the bathtub for the aftercare part as I burrow in his chest and laugh, and when I do that, I swear I hear him chuckle.