Chapter 44 #2
My body responds before my brain, wanting to obey. I try to get my knees under me, but my muscles are jellified. My arms shake--I can barely hold myself up and give up, flopping back onto the pillow, his jersey gathering in my armpits. My ass is in the air. It's the best I can do.
"Is this okay?" I say with a mushmouth.
His hands are all over my ass, kneading and spreading and pulling. "God, you're fucking gorgeous. Fucking perfect. But are you too tired? Do we need to--"
"No!" I snap. "God no, I've been dying to get railed, so please, rail me."
He makes that animal noise again, and my pussy comes to life at the sound.
With firm hands, he grips my hips, spreading my legs, shifting me so I'm where he wants me.
I'm shaking everywhere, exposed, open, waiting.
I can't see him, the lack of senses and anticipation amplifying every touch.
His hands fondle my ass, possessive and appreciative.
It's so much more intense like this, not being able to see, and I whimper needfully, wondering when he'll touch my pussy, needing him to touch me, the anticipation building.
I'm aching and empty--how did he do that already? --desperate for--
The head of his cock is hot and hard, nudging my entrance, teasing and testing and then, with one firm stroke, he fills me up.
I press into the pillow with a shocked gasp. --Somehow he keeps finding ways to get deeper inside me. My thighs tighten, hands fisting the sheets, and I gasp from the glorious pain, backing off him a little because holy shit. Any deeper and I'll taste latex.
My groan is muffled by the pillow. My body is trying to make room, pussy clenching around him, every nerve on fire, still sensitive from my first orgasm.
"Breathe, baby," he soothes, his restraint hanging by a thread, hands gripping my hips. The second I do--a sad, shaky, ragged thing--he says, "Good girl. Now, hold on."
It's a warning and a promise
A beat of silence. I grip the sheets, my body tensing, a single, shallow breath--
He slams into me.
My cry is sharp and shocked, my body jolting forward from the force--I'd collapse if his hands weren't iron on my hips, holding me in place, holding me up. The angle is devastating, deeper than should be possible, and I can feel him everywhere--in my stomach, in my lungs, in my soul.
He fists the hem of his jersey, using it like reins to pull me back onto him. "My name on your back," he growls. "Everyone's gonna know who you belong to."
The pace is brutal, unforgiving, each thrust driving me forward, his grip dragging me back.
I'm not in control of anything--my body, the sounds it makes, my mind.
The wet slap of skin is obscene and perfect, loud in the room, mixing with my gasping cries and his grunts.
I try to shift away, not from pain but from the intensity--too deep, can't think--but his hands lock me in place.
"Where do you think you're going?" He slams into me again, his voice ragged, strained.
"I can't, Grey--it's… too--"
He pulls back harder, drives deeper. "Yes you can. Take it."
And I do--I want to. I asked for this, and I'm desperate for it, as overwhelming as it is.
With every thrust of his hips, he pulls me back onto his cock with a wet slap of skin, stroking that place inside me that draws a string of unintelligible words from my throat. There aren't words from either of us, just noisy, harsh breaths and animal sounds and then without warning--smack.
I yelp, jerking forward. The sting is sharp, shocking, spreading heat across my skin. My pussy clenches reflexively around him.
He groans, feeling it, his hips stuttering. "Fuck--you liked that," he pants.
Did I? The sting, the heat, the way my body responded--
Smack. Harder this time.
"Oh, fuck--" I moan into the pillow, pushing back onto him.
"That's what I thought." His voice is dangerous, satisfied. Smack. "That's my girl."
The heat builds, layering with every strike. My ass burns and it feels so good. I'm clenching around him with every impact, wetter, needier.
Smack. "Taking me so deep."
"More--" I whine
Smack. "So fucking perfect."
"Harder--" I beg shamelessly. "Please--harder--"
He obliges. Smack--this one sharp, breath-stealing. I cry out, the sting intense, perfect, my pussy fluttering around him.
"Fucking greedy," he growls, but he sounds so pleased, I moan.
Smack--and I'm sobbing into the pillow, overwhelmed, my ass on fire. He leans down, dragging his lips up my spine, slow and wet, his hand soothing the heat radiating from his palm prints.
Then his teeth find my shoulder blade, biting down possessively, groaning into my skin when I cry out. Another bite. Another cry.
"Every time you do that--" His teeth find the back of my neck, and I shudder beneath him. "Drives me insane."
He's curled around me, braced with one hand next to mine. The other finds my clit.
Every nerve ending is on fire, every mark he left on me throbbing, my ass burning from his open palm, and I'm full, so full It's too much. I never want it to stop.
The coil winds tighter, tighter. I'm trying to hold back--too soon, can't come again this fast--but my body doesn't care.
"Grey, I’m--I can't--"
"Yes you can." His fingers move faster, firmer, paced with his hips. "Come on my cock, Molly. Let me feel it."
I'm right there, teetering, the pleasure building to unbearable heights.
"I'm gonna--oh god--"
I'm on the edge, his cock hitting that spot inside, his fingers working my clit like he owns it, every sensation converging.
One more thrust. One more circle of his fingers. One more slap.
Smack.
The orgasm slams into me, sudden, shocking, violent.
I scream into the pillow, wordless and wrecked, every muscle locking.
My pussy clamps down on him like a vise, pulsing rhythmically, wave after wave, every one stronger than the last, and he doesn't stop, doesn’t stop hammering into me, his fingers still working my clit, wringing every last aftershock from my body.
I can't see, can't think, can't breathe. Just feel. Overwhelming, devastating, perfect.
He slows as I come down, and I'm wrecked--trembling, gasping, boneless.
Surely that's it, surely we're--
"That's two," he says, shaky, breathless.
"I can't, Grey, I can't--"
"We'll see."
He's gentle as he pulls me up. I can't help.
I'm dead weight in his arms. He does all the work, withdrawing slightly, his hands careful on my hips, guiding me until I'm kneeling upright, my back flush against his front.
In one motion, he strips the jersey over my head, tossing it aside.
And then we're skin to skin, nothing between us.
The shift is jarring. Only a breath ago, he was slamming into me, feral and rough.
Now? Everything slows. The frantic energy evaporates, and what takes its place tightens my throat.
One strong arm bands across my chest, holding me to him.
The other wraps around my waist. He's supporting all my weight--I couldn't hold myself up if I tried.
My hands find his forearm, clutching weakly.
His lips find my shoulder. I feel him shaking, not from exertion, but from restraint. From emotion.
I can feel all of him. His chest against my back, rising and falling with ragged breaths. His thighs supporting mine. His arms wrapped around me, holding me together. His cock buried deep inside me, not moving, just present. Steady. Strong. Mine.
His breath is hot on my neck, humid and trembling. Each exhale raises goosebumps.
This is different. This is something more than just sex, something that makes my chest ache and my eyes sting. I've never felt so vulnerable, so completely safe.
My throat is too tight to speak even if I could.
He starts to move, slow. Deliberate. Rocking. His hips roll in a deep, grinding rhythm, and I feel every inch of the slide. In, out. In, out. I sigh, melting back into him, letting him take my weight, letting him hold me. Letting him have me.
This time, the build begins not in my pussy, but in my chest. Aching heat spreads slowly, seeping through my body like warm honey.
My stomach. My thighs. Every nerve ending lights up gently, tenderly.
The lines between my body and my heart dissolve.
I can't separate them anymore. It's all just one feeling.
And that's when I know.
I love him.
The realization doesn't crash into me--it rises slowly, inevitably, like a high moon tide.
Because it was always meant to come to this.
Beautiful, complicated Grey who let me into his heart, who wants so much for me to be happy that he would have given up everything just to keep me safe, just to spare me pain.
Who suffers and gives and doesn't believe he's enough.
But he is. And I love him. Completely. Irrevocably.
The words hang in my throat, too big to speak. But I feel them in every cell, every breath, every beat of my heart.
I love you.
Even if I can't say it yet, it's true.
Aching heat spreads through me, drawing me closer to the edge again. Slowly, agonizingly slow. I don't want it to end. I want to stay here forever in his arms, full of him, loved by him. But I can't stop it, neither of us can. It's inevitable, this climb, this fall.
The coil winds tighter with every breath, every roll of his hips.
Every circle of his fingers and every beat of our hearts pressed together.
I'm trembling still, eternally, his breath breaking on gasps in my ear.
Arm tightening across my chest. His hips move faster, the rhythm faltering, his control slipping.
And we're there together, on the edge of the vast and terrifying and beautiful.
"Molly--"… My name is broken, desperate.
I clench around him, gripping his forearm. Say it. Say it.
"I--…I need--" His voice cracks. "I want--"
I love you. The words roar in my mind, catch in my throat.
"Please--", is all I can manage.
The mounting orgasm surges with every thrust, the build so slow, so intense, I'm afraid to fall.
But I trust him. He won't let me shatter. He'll hold me together.
So I let go.
The orgasm doesn't crash--it detonates from my chest, exploding outward, blazing through me like fire.
I'm drowning. Gasping. Sobbing his name as pleasure tears me apart, cell by cell.
I feel him come a heartbeat later, his body locking against mine, his arms crushing me to him, my name a broken groan in my ear.
I feel the pulse of him throbbing inside me, feel his heart hammering against my back as we fall together.
And for an eternal moment, we're not two people, but one.
The comedown is slow, like cooling embers. Neither of us can move, the thunder of our heartbeats synchronized, goosebumps rising with cooling sweat. He holds me tighter, won't let me go, and we cling to each other with quiet desperation.
He kisses my shoulder, my neck, my cheek, then lowers us together to the bed onto our sides.
When he retreats, I ache for him. And he guides me to turn over so he can gather me into his chest. For a long time, neither of us moves.
His fingers shift lazily in my hair, and I'm useless, pounded to jelly, every muscle aching, the sting between my thighs lovely.
It feels like a long time passes before he stirs.
"We should clean up," he whispers, stroking my hair.
I whimper, unsure if I can move. I'm not even sure I can speak.
"I know, baby. One second."
I watch his gorgeous ass as he leaves, then his gorgeous dick when he comes back with a warm washcloth, climbing back in. I want to curl back into him, but he cups my hip and guides me to my back.
"Let me take care of you."
He's so gentle, so reverent. I wince when he reaches my pussy.
"I know. Almost done."
He wipes my thighs, sticky and damp. Then, he checks the marks with a worried look on his face.
His fingers trail over the most painful bite on my shoulder. "I shouldn't have--"
"If I didn't like it I would have said so," I remind him.
He smiles, kisses me softly, the contrast between feral beast and gentle giant crazy. Inexplicably and undeniably, they're both him, both real. Both mine.
He tosses the washcloth toward my hamper, then wraps me up again in his arms, our legs hooking on each other’s--
My stomach growls so loud and hard, I'm sure Grey felt it in his. He looks down at me, amused. And then we bust out laughing.
It's a wild, hysterical thing, the kind of laughter you can't stop, the bed shaking with it. All the tension from the week, all the intensity, the happiness we feel, that we've found, pouring out of us in laughter.
"We never eat dinner," I note between giggles.
He's still laughing into my hair, deep and rumbling. "Fuck the pasta."
It's a mantra I decide I can live by.