Chapter 31 - Marisol #2
My orgasm crashes through me, my pussy clenching around his fingers as I scream his name. He doesn't stop, doesn't slow, just keeps eating me through it until I'm sobbing from overstimulation.
He crawls up my body, his cock dragging against my sensitive skin, leaving a trail of precum. When he kisses me, I taste myself. Tangy and desperate.
"I need to be inside you," he growls against my mouth.
"Then fuck me. Stop being gentle. I won't break."
He flips me onto my stomach, pulling my hips up so I'm on my knees, my face pressed into the mattress. I feel exposed, vulnerable, my pussy dripping down my thighs.
"This ass," he says, spanking me hard. The sound echoes through the room. "These bruises I left. Never show these to another man."
“I’ll show them to whoever I want,” I pant, but it doesn’t even sound believable to my ears.
He spanks me again, harder, and I moan into the sheets.
“Bad girl,” he growls, and his free hand slides up my spine, not gentle at all, as if dragging me back to him by the very bones of my body. I arch for him instinctively, back bowed, spreading my thighs wider in a silent plea.
“Please, Nico,” I whimper, the words spilling out before I have time to think, “I need your cock.”
He doesn’t give me what I want—not yet. Instead, he lines himself up behind me, and the swollen head of his cock slides through my dripping folds, smearing me everywhere, making a slick mess of my slit.
He’s teasing me, dragging out the agony, the head catching at my entrance with every pass but never pushing in.
I groan in frustration, trying to push back onto him, but his grip on my hips is ironclad, unyielding.
He delights in my need, in my utter surrender, and it only makes the ache worse.
“Not until you promise to keep that ass for my eyes only,” he rumbles, the tip of his cock nudging at my entrance, then retreating. Every time he almost slides in, I gasp, and he pulls away with a cruel little laugh.
I’m losing my mind. The friction of his cock against my swollen clit is torture, the promise of fullness just out of reach. “Always,” I gasp, voice ragged, “forever. Just for you. Now put me out of my fucking misery.”
He stills, his cock poised at my entrance, and for a moment the only sound is our ragged breathing and the wet, obscene slick of my need. Then he leans forward, his chest pressed to my back, his hand coming around my throat to tilt my head back so his mouth is at my ear.
“Say it properly,” he breathes, the threat of teeth against my skin. “Say you’re mine.”
I twist in his grip, desperate, and the movement makes his cock sink just the shallowest bit inside me. I whimper. “I’m yours, Nico. I’ll always be yours. I don’t want anyone else. I just need you, please—”
My whole body trembles, and I’m so close to coming I could scream.
He slides the head of his cock inside me, just the tip, stretching me, then pulls out again, leaving me empty. My pussy clenches around nothing, begging for him, for the stretch and burn of being filled. He does it again, and again—slow torture, a game he knows I’ll lose.
“Look at you,” he says, voice almost reverent. “So desperate for my cock. You’re dripping, Marisol. Fucking soaked.”
I sob, nodding into the pillow, shame and need knotted together. “I need you. I need you so fucking bad.”
He laughs, dark and dangerous, the sound vibrating through his chest and into my bones. “You’re going to take every inch. Every fucking inch. And when I’m done, you’ll still feel me tomorrow.”
I nod frantically, words failing me as I grind my hips back, frantic for relief.
His hand leaves my throat and moves down to my cunt, fingers slicking through my folds, spreading my arousal over my clit.
He rubs slow, tight circles, never letting up on the pressure, and my body sings with it.
At the same time, he wedges the thick head of his cock right at my entrance, holding me there, letting the burn build.
“Beg me again,” he demands, voice feral.
“Please, Nico, fuck me. I need it. I need you to ruin me.” I hear the tears in my own voice and don’t care. I want him to break me apart, to put me back together again.
He doesn’t hesitate. He slams into me in one brutal thrust, and we both cry out. He's so thick, stretching me perfectly, hitting so deep I can barely breathe.
"Fuck, you're tight," he groans.
He starts moving, hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Each thrust pushes me forward, my nipples dragging against the sheets. His hands leave bruises on my hips as he uses them for leverage.
"This is what I wanted," he growls, reaching around to rub my clit. "Wanted to break down that door and fuck you until you couldn't remember your own name."
"Yes," I moan. "Harder. Mark me. Make me yours."
He pulls out suddenly, flipping me onto my back. Before I can protest, he's inside me again, folding my legs up so my knees are by my ears. The angle is devastating. He's so deep I can feel him in my stomach.
"Look at me," he commands.
I meet his eyes, seeing everything there. The hunger, the need, the emotion in his eyes.
"I need to see you when you come again. Need to watch you fall apart on my cock."
He fucks me harder, his thumb finding my clit, and I'm already close again. My pussy is clenching around him, pulling him deeper.
"That's it," he growls. "Take it. Take every inch."
"Nico, I'm… fuck, I'm coming again!"
My second orgasm rips through me, more intense than the first. My pussy spasms around his cock, and I see his control finally shatter completely.
"Marisol," he groans, his rhythm faltering. "Fuck, I love you."
The words hit me like lightning.
"I love you," he says again, clearer now. "Not because you survived. Not from fear. I love you because you're mine. Because you're the only person who's ever made the silence worth living in."
Tears spring to my eyes as he continues fucking me through his confession.
"I love you," he says once more as his cock pulses inside me, filling me with his cum. "I fucking love you, Marisol."
We come together, him pumping into me while I clench around him. He collapses on top of me, both of us breathing hard, sweaty, completely wrecked.
After a moment, he rolls us so I'm on top, his cock still inside me, our combined fluids leaking out around him.
"You said it," I whisper, tears sliding down my cheeks.
"I meant it." He wipes my tears with his thumb. "I've meant it for longer than I knew how to say."
"Say it again."
"I love you."
"Again."
"I love you, you demanding woman." His smile is real, unguarded. "How many times?"
"Forever. My retention is shit when it matters."
He laughs, and I feel it through his whole body, his cock twitching inside me.
"I can work with forever."
Later, much later, we've fucked twice more.
Once with me riding him, bouncing on his cock while he watched my tits bounce, while I left nail marks on his chest that might scar.
Once against the wall because I challenged him to hold me up for ten minutes.
He held me for twelve, fucking up into me while I bit his shoulder to muffle my screams.
Now we're wrecked, tangled in sheets soaked with sweat and cum. My pussy is sore in the best way, still leaking his cum. His hand is in my hair, my head on his chest.
I trace his tattoo, thinking about death and rebirth.
"You should add today's date," I say.
"Why?"
"Because something died today. Your belief that you destroy everything you touch."
His hand stills. "That's not how it works."
"Maybe it should be."
He doesn't answer, but I feel him considering it.
"Also," I murmur against his chest, "we should get a piano."
"A piano."
"You haven't played in twelve years. Chopin deserves better."
The silence shifts. I can feel him thinking about unsealed rooms and second chances.
"We'll see," he says. Which I can definitely turn into a yes.
I used to fill silence with chaos because quiet meant remembering. Tonight the silence is full. His heartbeat, his breathing, the ocean through the window, even the faint scent of gun oil from his weapon on the nightstand.
I'm not afraid anymore.
I close my eyes, feeling his cum still inside me, his arms around me.
Tonight, the silence sounds like home.