10. Alas #2
The tight walls stretch around my knuckles.
She’s so incredibly wet that my fingers glide inside her with a wet, obscene squelch.
I curl my fingers upward, hitting the swollen, ridged flesh inside her.
I pump my hand in a driving rhythm. In and out.
Stretching her. Opening her. Preparing her for my cock.
My mouth stays locked on her clit. I flick my tongue over the swollen nub in rapid, punishing strokes while my fingers pump relentlessly inside her.
She sobs my name. Her head thrashes side to side on the wooden bench. Her nails bite deep into my shoulders, drawing blood. The sharp pain grounds me. It anchors the violence. It hones it into this singular act of worship.
She begins to shatter. I feel the frantic, vibrating tension building in her thighs. Her inner walls spasm frantically around my pumping fingers.
"Cum for me," I command against her soaking wet pussy. "Let go."
I bite down lightly on her clit while my fingers hit her deepest spot.
She explodes.
Her scream echoes into the wooden rafters of the honey shed. The sound is desperate, unrestrained. Her body goes rigid on the bench. The pulsing waves of her climax milk my fingers. The slick gushes from her core, soaking my hand, dripping onto the gouged wood beneath her ass.
I ride out her climax with my mouth. I swallow every drop of her release. I lick her clean as her body trembles and shivers in the cold.
When her spasms finally slow, I pull my fingers out of her. The wet, slapping sound echoes loudly in the small room.
I stand up.
My cock is a weapon. It’s painfully hard, jutting aggressively from the front of my jeans. The fabric bites into the root. The pressure in my balls is an agonizing ache. The leak of precum stains the front of my pants. I’m consumed by the need to bury myself inside her.
My hands drop to my belt. I wrench the buckle open. I shove my jeans and boxers down my muscular thighs.
My cock springs free. The cold mountain air hits the weeping head of my cock. The heavy length pulses against my abdomen.
I step between her spread thighs. The meat of my cock bumps against her soaking wet folds.
She looks up at me. The swinging bulb flashes over her face. Her eyes are glazed, dark with lust and surrender. Her chest heaves. The cold wind whips her hair. She is marked by my mouth, dripping with her own arousal, pressed to the wood in the cold air.
"Eyes on me," I order.
Her gaze locks onto mine. There’s no fear in her. The bees know I’m safe. She knows I’m safe. The violence inside me is a shield built for her.
I grip the base of my cock. I position the blunt head against her slick opening. The searing heat of her body radiates against my shaft.
I wrap my hands around her hips. My thumbs press deep into her hip bones.
I thrust forward.
I drive my cock inside her in one agonizingly slow motion.
The tight, wet walls of her pussy swallow the head of my shaft. She gasps. The sound is a sharp hiss of pain and immense pleasure. She’s so tight. The slick from her climax lubricates the path, but her body still struggles to accommodate my girth.
I don’t stop. I push deeper. The ridges of my cock scrape against her tight internal walls. She stretches around me. The intense, burning friction sends a violent shockwave straight up my spine. My jaw locks. A low groan breaks from between my teeth.
I push forward until my hips drive against hers.
I’m buried inside her to the hilt.
The possessive triumph of filling her obliterates my mind.
The empty rage that haunted my life is instantly replaced by this singular weight.
I’m anchored. I’m finally where I’m meant to be.
My violent past, the knives, the blood, the endless patrol lines down the mountain—it all led to this moment, burying my cock deep inside the woman who owns my soul.
She whimpers. Her head falls back. The tendons in her neck strain.
"Mine," The word vibrates in my chest. "You’re mine."
"Yours," she gasps. "Alas, please."
I don’t make her wait.
I pull my hips back, dragging the length of my cock slowly out of her. Her tight walls cling desperately to my flesh, trying to hold me inside. The wet, sucking sound is obscene. It rises over the howling wind outside the open window.
When only the blunt head remains inside her, I drive my hips forward.
I drive hilt-deep in one violent thrust.
The slap of my pelvis hitting hers cracks like a gunshot in the honey shed. The wooden workbench groans loudly under the impact.
I set the pace. It’s a punishing rhythm. There’s no gentle romance in my bones. There’s only possession. I’m claiming my territory. I’m stamping my mark on her soul.
I pull back and thrust forward.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
The wet, fleshy sounds of our bodies colliding ring out under the wooden roof. I drive my cock into her with brutal, relentless force. Every thrust buries me to the root. Every thrust stretches her walls to their breaking point.
She takes every inch. She takes the violence of my claiming and matches it with her own desperate need.
Her hands fly up and tangle in my short hair. She pulls my face down. Her mouth crashes into mine. The kiss is a war. Our teeth clash. Our tongues fight for dominance. I taste my own saliva mixed with the musky taste of her pussy from my mouth. She moans into my mouth.
I pump my hips relentlessly. The friction is a blazing inferno. The cold mountain wind pours through the window, whipping across my sweating back and her bare, shivering shoulders. The contrast between the freezing air and the boiling heat inside her pussy drives me insane.
The bench creaks and protests with every violent thrust. Her body slides backward on the gouged timber. Her right hip repeatedly smashes against the cold cast-iron of the uncapping tank.
I break the kiss. I grab her by the waist and haul her forward, dragging her back to the very edge of the wood. The rough timber scrapes against the soft skin of her bare ass.
I won't break this connection. I want to deepen this single, perfect claim until she forgets her own name.
I hook my arms underneath her knees. I hoist her thighs high into the air, pressing her knees all the way back against her own shoulders.
Her pussy opens to me. The new angle exposes her wet, gaping opening to the freezing wind. It tilts her pelvis upward, altering the trajectory of my cock.
I drive my hips forward.