Chapter 31 Ginger
Ginger
I cry out, the sting of the worn leather across my sensitive nipple making me arch off the bed, a shot of straight lust hitting my core like lightning.
My skin flushes, my heart races, and I have the sudden urge to bring my arms down in front of me. That first strike was hard, but not overly so, the perfect amount of pleasure mixed with pain, so I keep my arms extended, resting on the pillow above me.
Hutch watches me, hooded blue eyes, expression open and relaxed. He brings up a big palm to soothe away the sting. “You like that?”
“Yes,” I pant.
“Want more?”
I nod, running my tongue over my dry lips.
“Tell me.” His words are low, commanding, creating a live wire under my skin as I wait for the next flick of his wrist.
“Again,” I say. “Green. More, please.”
His lips tip up in a smirk. “Since you asked so nicely.”
He brings the belt down across the same breast and then immediately across the other, and I swear I almost come. My skin screams, white hot desire flooding my veins, my body shaking, wetness slick between my thighs.
When my eyes leave his to track the movements of his hands over the tender flesh of my chest, I can see the red marks the belt has left.
My pussy clenches on nothing and I let out a moan when he leans over me, his long hair and the weight of that silver pendant around his neck tickling my skin, to take a swollen nipple in his mouth.
When he pulls back, he’s wearing that signature smirk that drove me nuts days ago but now makes me dizzy with want.
He’s still half dressed, with no shirt and jeans open at the waist, letting the tiniest sliver of dark boxer briefs show.
I remember what his cock looks like up close, the metal piercing, the impressive length of him, the heaviness of it.
Still even bared only halfway to me, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
His eyes dip down to between my thighs.
“You’re drenched, California.”
There’s a desperate edge to his low voice, and it shakes a little with every breathless word. He runs the leather over my tits, alternating that with barely there taps against my skin.
I’m out of my mind with need, the slow drag of the belt, the soft slaps that leave me aching, arching my back, wanting him to increase the force but loving the slow torture, the expectation of that next stinging snap of the belt making me moan.
“I know.” I nod, no shame in sight.
“I think…” He trails off, dragging the belt over my chest and down my stomach. “I could get you to come,” he goes on, dragging it over my hip and down to my knee, “just,” he places a kiss on my hip, “like,” one just above my pubic bone, “this,” one to the inside of my knee.
His breath ghosts over my clit, his nose brushing the curls above it as he breathes me in. “What do you think, filthy girl?”
I whimper at the faintest touch and rock my hips up, desperate to get his mouth on me. I crave the skill he wields with that tongue, and I want it.
“Please,” I manage to say.
“Please what?” Hutch asks, moving up my body, his tongue blazing a hot trail over my hip, up my stomach, and between my breasts.
When his face is directly over mine, and all I can see and smell is him, his long hair loose, dark beard, and deep blue eyes.
“Make me come,” I beg.
Moving back down my body, he places a series of quick hits, one across my chest, one to my abdomen, and one to my inner thigh.
With each strike, my skin sings with pleasure and my clit throbs with need, breath hissing out between my teeth.
Anticipation bubbles in my veins, and my toes curl waiting for the final strike that I know will undo me.
His eyes connect with mine, and with a final flick of his wrist, the sharp sting of the belt snaps against my clit.
My vision swims as my orgasm rips through me.
My legs shake, my back arches as I cry out, searing pleasure mixing with pain as wave after wave of desire rolls through my body.
I’ve never come so hard, never felt this good.
It feels like I’m outside of my body, hovering somewhere in warm delirium.
I’m vaguely aware of a sheen of sweat coating my skin and I shiver.
“Jesus fucking Christ, that was hot,” I hear Hutch say.
When I open my eyes, slowly coming back down from the glorious high he just catapulted me into, I take him in.
He’s still in the same position, resting on his knees, belt gripped loosely in the hand resting on his thigh, the other he uses to squeeze his cock through his jeans.
His chest rises and falls as he watches me, eyes roaming over my body before coming back to rest on mine.
It takes effort after the complete destruction of my muscles through the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life, but I manage to push up onto my elbow and reach for his hands still roughly tied with my own panties. I grip him through his jeans, before working his boxers down past his tip.
A groan rumbles in his chest when I wrap my hand around his length and give a short stroke. He pulls my hand out, unties the panties around my wrist, and pushes to stand in front of the bed.
Moving to my knees, I help him work his pants and boxers down his hips and legs. He steps out of them, and for the first time in six months, I’m met with the most glorious view as I stare up at him.
He grips my head in his palm and leans down, taking my mouth in a bruising kiss, all tongue, taking exactly what he wants from my mouth. I reach up and take his cock in my hand, giving him a couple of long strokes, which elicits a delicious moan into my mouth.
“Please tell me you brought condoms,” I murmur against his lips.
He stills. “Hell yes, I did.”
“Oh, thank God,” I whimper.
He straightens, pressing a big palm to my chest. I let him push me back until I’m lying flat on my back again, him kneeling between my thighs.
“Let me look at you,” he murmurs.
I nod as his eyes roam my body. He trails a hand down over my hip, brushing a feather-light touch across my clit, then down to my slick entrance.
“I knew I’d get to fuck this perfect peachy cunt eventually.” His eyes flick up to mine. “Knew I’d get to split you open on my cock.”
I bite my lip and nod. Because fuck. I couldn’t find a word to say at this moment if my life depended on it. I love the soft and hard of him. The commanding tone one minute, soft and expectant the next.
“Give me your hands.”
I raise them up, and he grabs the belt.
“Wrists together.”
He expertly lashes my hands together, then leans over me, his thick cock nudging my entrance as he presses my hands back over my head.
He smirks down at me. “Stay put, filthy girl.”
I nod as I watch him settle back on his heels and take his cock in his hand. With the other, he reaches up and tugs on one of my nipples, making me whimper. My clit is so sensitive, and with him kneeling between my thighs, keeping me spread open, I can’t get any friction.
“You’re gonna watch while I fuck my fist, yeah?” he says, stroking his length.
There is so much of him to look at, my brain can’t register what I like more: his thick cock sliding through his tattooed fist, his bicep and chest flexing with each stroke, or the sight of his heavy balls hanging between his spread thighs.
The man is a fucking masterpiece. He runs a fingertip over my clit again.
I nod frantically as his pace picks up and his hips thrust forward.
His eyes never leave my body when he releases his length and swipes his fingers through the wetness between my thighs and then spits into his palm before wrapping his fist around his cock again.
I moan watching him jerk himself with our combined lube and my pussy aches.
A bead of precum glistens on the tip of his cock.
I lift my hands and try to sit up, but he pushes me back down.
“Please,” I whimper with a pointed look at his cock, astounded at how desperate the word sounds. “Let me taste you.”
That sexy smirk tips up his lips and he uses the hand not around his length to swipe up the precum with his thumb.
“Filthy fucking girl,” he pants out and pushes his thumb past my lips.
I suck the salty tang of him off his thumb with another moan, swirling my tongue around it before biting it gently. He picks up the pace on his cock, and the soft grunts and heavy breathing emitting from his throat are driving me insane. What I wouldn’t give to feel his thick cock pounding into me.
“I want your cock, Hutch,” I say through my own panted breath.
“Yeah?” he asks, head tipped back, every muscle straining.
He leans forward, still working his cock, bringing himself so close I can feel the tip bumping my clit with each stroke.
“Get the condom,” I say, nipping at his lips.
He nods, dropping his cock and leaning over the bed to grab the foil packet from his jeans pocket.
I watch as he rips it open with his teeth and expertly rolls it over his length.
He lifts his gaze to mine. “You ready?”
I nod again, dropping my eyes to where he’s fisting his gigantic cock.
He must see the anxiety in my eyes because he chuckles. “I’ll go slow.”
“Kay,” I whisper.
He inches forward, pressing the tip of his cock to me. At first, the burn is slight, but my eyes widen as he rocks his hips a bit.
“Relax for me, Ginger,” he murmurs. “Take your time.”
He drags his fingers over my clit, and the sensation makes me shiver, pushing him a little deeper so the wide head of his cock is fully inside me.
“Full. So full,” I moan, but roll my hips anyway. It’s instinctive, and I’m desperate to fill myself up with him. Until all I am is one with this incredibly filthy, deliciously sexy man.
I whimper when the stretch becomes almost too much.
“Don’t rush it. Fuck the tip while I tease this sloppy cunt,” he breathes. “Then you’ll take it all for me, yeah?”
“I can’t.”
“Yeah, you can,” he reassures, running a thumb over my knee. “It’s all right. We can be flexible.”
I breathe out a laugh, distracted by the burn. “I’m not flexible.”
He smirks as he pulls out a bit then pushes back in. “I have personal experience that says otherwise.”
I groan as his fingers work over my clit.
He presses in another inch, and I can feel his piercing in the best way.
“Holy shit, this pretty pink hole is so fucking tight. How does it feel, California?”
“Good,” I say, licking my lips. “Green,” I mutter without prompting.
Wavy brown hair rests below his sun-kissed shoulders, his denim blue eyes burning into mine. “You’re gonna need to breathe through this last part, okay?”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, Jesus. Just do it already.”
His lips tip up and a dimple flashes before his hips snap forward.
The burn is electric.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I moan.
His deep chuckle sends a shot of want directly to my clit, accompanying the burn of him pushing inside me. “I told you to breathe.” His thumb rubs small circles on my hip. “You okay, beautiful? Want me to pull out?”
He watches my every breath, every twitch, making sure I’m still with him, still wanting this. There’s no question he’d stop the second I signaled otherwise.
“Hold on.” I pant. “Jesus. Give me a minute before you split my vagina in half with your monster cock.”
His fingers dust over the hair at the apex of my thighs and then dip down to circle my clit once. My hips buck at the contact, forcing him a bit deeper. The burn is a mix of pain and pleasure.
I can’t. Ungh. "It’s not going to fit,” I grunt.
“Relax,” he chuckles, “it’s not even halfway in.”
My eyes go wide. “What do you mean? You’re gonna be in my throat soon.”
He huffs out a laugh, his deep blue eyes sparkling. “We can do that, too.”
He gives me another minute or two to adjust and then slowly pushes forward. His brow creases and his fingers dig into my hips. Soon, he lets out a tortured breath.
“That’s it,” he says quietly. “You’re doing so well. That’s all of me.”
I’ve never been so full. I swear to God he’s rearranged half my organs. But the longer he stays still, the more the pain fades, and soon I’m rocking my hips in time with his, meeting him thrust for thrust.
My walls clamp down, already fluttering around the sheer size of him.
The breath punches from my lungs as he pulls out and drives back in, bottoming out.
The tip of his cock and that piercing of his hit that perfect spot that makes my toes curl and my eyes roll back.
Pressure builds low in my belly, sharp and dizzying, like I might come, cry, or piss myself. Every thrust hits me so deep.
“Fuck,” I gasp. “Oh God, I feel like I have to pee.”
He chuckles low and deep. “That’s the sweet spot. Be my good girl and take it.”
And holy hell, do I take it. He pounds into me, steady and deep, his fingers relentless on my clit until pressure coils tight in my gut.
“You talk shit, California, but this pussy?” His voice is gravelly. “She knows who she belongs to. Doesn’t she?”
That does it.
My orgasm hits like a freight train, blinding and all-consuming. I cry out, trembling around him, clenching hard as my whole body tenses and releases.
“Oh, fuck. Hutch—pull out. Come on me,” I pant, breathless and wrecked.
He doesn’t hesitate. One sharp thrust, then he’s out, tearing the condom off in a rush. His fist wraps around his cock—two tight pulls and hot ropes of cum shoot across my thighs and pussy. He groans, pushes up on his knees, another thick stream striping my stomach as we both watch.
It’s filthy and intense and perfect.
Once his cock is spent, he drops down to his elbow and drags a finger through the mess coating my skin. He trails it up over my stomach and around a nipple before slipping his finger between my lips. I suck at it hungrily, loving the taste of him.
He drops his head, sucking my nipple clean, then moves lower, lapping at the cum coating my skin. And fuck, if the sight of him licking his own cum off me isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
Sex with Hutch is liberating. Freeing and filthy. And I'm not sure if I'll ever get enough. Even if this can only last for the summer.