my clit. His cock keeps rubbing and pushing against my entrance, and all I want is for him to take that last step and fuck me.
“Jesus, you’re so fucking wet for me,” he hisses through his teeth. “Tell me how much you want this, darling. Beg me to fuck you.”
But I can’t breathe, never mind speak. My body’s tense as a fucking violin string, and all it will take is one more pluck for me to unravel.
His dick slides up and down my slit. Harder, harder. He eases in half an inch, and then slips out.
I’m too wet, too tight.
He pushes down between my shoulder blades, forcing my head into the bed, my ass in the air.
His dick slips along my slit as he strums my clit with expert fingers.
“I can’t—” he begins in a strangled voice. “I don’t ever want this to stop.”
I mewl in response, my voice still trapped. Then I reach around and do the only thing I can think of in the way of giving him the permission he thinks he needs.
I peel back my pussy, shuddering with shame as I bury my face in the quilt.
Josiah inhales a sharp breath.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” He groans when his cock touches me again. But instead of pushing inside, instead of finally breaking me like he keeps promising, his cock trails up and up and up.
I gasp when he tickles my hole with his dick, and immediately shift forward to try and get away.
He lets out a rough laugh, and that does something unpleasant to my insides.
I want him to take my virginity, not sodomize me.
“Josiah, no!” Does he even hear me? I try to look around, but my hair’s in my face. “Josiah, stop!”
He slings an arm around the front of my thighs, hauling me back against him. He grabs my ass cheek and pulls it to the side. Cool air washes over me.
“Please,” I manage, my throat too tight for much more. I squirm and struggle and fight, but he’s too strong for me.
His cock presses to my hole, sending a flurry of urgent signals through my body.
I’m still wet, still aching. I don’t want this, and I don’t understand why. Is it because it’s so fucked up?
My head’s spinning, my body is going lame again.
Like upstairs, in Wayne’s bedroom.
His tattoo.
His underwear.
Why did I recognize it?
Rough hands hold me steady. A thumb circles my hole, drenching me in my own arousal. Flickers of pleasure wreath into me, arousing me and sickening me at the same time.
How can my body betray me like this? I’m yelling now, my voice hoarse, but—
There’s no one to hear me.
And so I lose the fight.
Josiah sinks the tip of his thumb inside me, and starts working it in and out.
Pleasure bursts through me, and I come with a strangled scream. But he doesn’t stop.
“Again.”
I struggle, tears flashing down my cheek and instantly soaking into the silky quilt beneath me.
invictus maneo
It’ll sting, but then it will go away. It always does. And doesn’t it feel fucking incredible?
What the hell is going on in my head? I’m two places at once, my mind stretching like spiderweb between them. I’m here on Josiah’s bed, another climax building as he fingers my aching, throbbing hole. Wanting him to stop, but silently begging that he’ll just keep using me.
Feels so fucking good.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, Candy Cane?”
My eyelids block out everything but a sliver of the world. There’s nothing but fog out there.
Where am I? This isn’t the study.
“Do you like it when I touch you like that?”
Someone moans long and low.
That someone is me.
My head lolls until I’m facing forward again.
Knees. Legs.
I’m propped up on something soft. A shape in front of me, blurring as it moves, anything that moves is a blur.
So instead, I look further. To the painting. To the deer, so delicate and cautious, ears pricked up as she scans the foggy trees.
I wish I’d noticed the predator. Wish I’d heard him coming like she did.
My body’s numb, all but one point. The apex of every single sensation tearing through me blooms from between my legs.
Blood sings in my veins as strong fingers trace a circle around my clit. My legs are spread wide open. I should be ashamed to have myself on display like this, but there’s no emotion, no fear, no panic…no dread of the repercussions of this wicked sin.
“Now it’s your turn,” he says, his jaw bunching as he moves to my side.
His fingers keep circling, circling. I don’t know