Chapter 17 #3
I do as he asks without question. He threads his hands between my thighs and opens me wider. Then moves his hands up to open my cheeks. A sensation works up the back of my leg, toward my ass, and before I can question it, I realize it’s his tongue.
He makes his way to my entrance, licking and spitting.
He uses his fingers to take some of my arousal and massages it into the tight ring. I clench on contact, and he tuts.
“I know this hasn’t been claimed,” he rasps, voice low and visceral. “And tonight—it’s mine.”
The words hit like a shockwave. I jolt beneath him, instinctively fighting what my body already knows is inevitable. This isn’t something I’ve ever imagined—something even Constance, with all her whispered confessions, has never dared to mention.
“You’re only going to make it hurt more baby. Relax. Give it to me,” he rumbles.
I let out a moan as he scoops more of my arousal, using it to slide a single digit into me. The sensation feels odd. An invasion of a place that I never thought I’d allow. But somehow, it feels… good.
“Fuck Summer, you don’t know how good you look like this.”
I let out a moan as he uses his other hand to play with my clit.
He circles faster, dragging pleasure to the center of me until my body starts to tremble.
Then—he moves. I feel the shift, the air changing with him, the promise of what’s coming tightening every muscle in my body, but he keeps his fingers on my clit.
I feel the heat of his erection circling the entrance—part of me wants to scream sheriff, the other half wants to experience this with him and only him.
“What’s your safeword?” he whispers, voice still edged with command.
“Sheriff,” I choke out, the word trembling past my lips.
I open my legs wider, an invitation for him to enter—and he does. He starts slow, pushing just the tip into me, the stretch burning and feeling uncomfortable. I let out a hiss.
“Shh baby, this is the worst part.”
And he moves deeper, working in and out as he goes, inch by inch. The further he gets, the more my body adjusts to him. The pain is overwhelming, but the pleasure is building up inside of me. I push back slightly, as though I’m trying to take more of him and he hums in approval.
“Fuck,” he moans as he goes deeper and deeper.
“Oh, fuck Jacob,” I moan, “fuck it hurts. I’m too full. It’s too much.”
But that sends him into a frenzy, in one swift motion he pushes himself the rest of the way. A scream erupts from me, so loud it hurts the back of my throat.
“Jacob—” My eyes roll to the back of my head. The sensation heightening me to a level I never thought I’d know. The pain is devastating, but the pleasure is so intense that I don’t want it to stop.
He pulls almost all the way out and pounds back into me, the feeling sending my eyes rolling to the back of my head—pain, burning, pleasure. All mingling into one huge form of pressure that builds inside of me.
I scream, deeper and louder than ever before.
He continues his assault on my clit, although his strides alter—he’s feral with pleasure.
“Mine,” he moans. “Fucking mine.” He parts my cheeks wider and pushes in so hard and so deep that I feel the smack of his balls on my front entrance. The sensation feels incredible.
“Yes. Just like that,” I moan “Fuck… Fuck… Fuck!” I scream.
He moves fast, pumping in and out of me quickly, his balls slapping onto me every time he pumps into me.
The pain subsides and I’m overcome with pleasure.
I scream into the pillow, trying not to wake the whole damn town with the sound of my own destruction.
But he yanks it away, leaving me exposed—nothing but the mattress beneath me, too low to muffle the noise.
He wants to hear it. Every gasp. Every broken sound. He wants to hear me unravel while he destroys me.
I’m so full, my pussy so wet. Tears trickle down my face—my throat feels like the screams are razorblades.
He adjusts behind me; I think he gets to one knee and continues at a new angle.
“Fuuuuu—” I start to roar, before the orgasm hits and hot fluid comes rushing from me. It sprays on the bed, coating the mattress beneath us. Everything is drenched, slick heat spreading beneath us, and when he drives harder, more spills out—like my body’s surrender made visible.
My legs are gone, I’m unable to hold my weight up after my ruin, so he holds my hips up and continues to pound into me.
“Fuck Summer…. My dirty little slut. Look at you fucking pouring for me.”
A tiny, pathetic yelp comes out, for a second, I think I’m going to pass out. Then he roars.
“FUCK!” he screams, louder than any bellow I’ve heard come from him, as he explodes, pulsing inside of me, filling me with his hot seed.
He stays there for a moment, chest rising against my back, catching his breath. Then he pulls out slowly and presses a towel between my cheeks. He tucks it beneath me with quiet care before moving to undo the cuffs.
Through the haze, I still notice the shift in his expression—the flicker of concern when he sees the raw marks circling my wrists where the metal bit into my skin.
“I’m sorry,” he says, over and over, as he raises them to his mouth, kissing the red areas over and over.
I roll onto my back—unable to speak a word—and pass out into a long, and restless sleep.