grinds down until I can feel nothing else but my skin against his. I groan, tossing my head back into the pillows at my back as he chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest. I gasp, inhaling sharply as he hits that spot again—the one pulsing deep inside. And then he hits it again … and again. Fuck!
"Scream," he whispers in my ear, his fingers releasing my hands and trailing down to my breasts once more. He circles my nipples. I know what’s coming, and I can’t fucking wait for it. "Scream for me." He pinches down, eliciting such pain and yet, such pleasure as well, I can't help but give him what he wants. Another scream rips through me as I come, and I come hard. White light blinds me. Pleasure wraps around my throat and squeezes. No. Not pleasure. His hands. I open my eyes—mid-orgasm—and see that he's released my nipples and moved to my neck. He squeezes with both hands, clamping down on either side—cutting off the blood flow, but never my oxygen as his face contorts.
"Fuck yes!" he yells. “Milk me, baby. I want this pussy to take all I have to give.” The dirty words coming from his lips spur me on. He was right. If he’s the one doing it, I do like it. I arch against his grip, against his cock as he thrusts into me relentlessly.
I feel him lean back, pulling his cock from me and spurting the rest of his cum against the outside of my pussy and over the curve of my stomach. He groans as I catch my breath—still entrapped in the high of feeling like I just jumped off a goddamn cliff.
And it’s only when he groans and releases my throat—when dots of black and white appear in my vision—that I realize just how fucked I really am. Because sex like this has only one path—straight to fucking hell.
47
Avalon
I had sex with Dean Carter. And … I liked it. It’s a new thing for me, liking sex. It's always been more or less about release. Not an activity that I want to spend all night doing or even all day. But that’s what happens. I wake the next morning with his face already buried back between my thighs. Thighs that he makes tremble and shake as he sucks my clit into his mouth and rubs the metal rod in his tongue up and down it. He makes me want it. Over and over. All that explosiveness between us, the hatred, the frustration, we take it out on each other and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever felt in my life.
Sex with Dean is like getting the biggest adrenaline high I’ve ever had. We do it more times than I can count. Against the wall with his face next to mine as he pounds into me. In the shower with me bent damn near in half as he fucks my pussy with his chest pressed to my spine. On the bed. In front of the windows overlooking the ocean. When I think I can’t do it anymore, when I'm too fucking sore that I feel like my pussy can't possibly get wet ever again, his arm will curl around me while I’m exhausted beyond belief, and then suddenly his fingers are between my legs and the floodgates are open once more. He pushes me onto my back, shoves that pierced cock of his right into my pussy until I’m screaming out yet another orgasm.
It's mind blowing, and worse, it's confusing.
I lay there, my head pillowed on his bicep as I count the individual hairs on his arm. Outside, the sun is starting to set. An array of various colors reflecting against the surface of the ocean. I'm in a beautiful bedroom in a beautiful place with a man who's spent the last day and a half proving to me the meaning of dickmatized, yet all I can think of now is how fucking exhausted I am and how far from reality this all is.
Dean's breath blows out against my ear as he sighs, his chest moving up and down against my back. "What are you thinking?" he asks as if sensing the darkening turn of my thoughts. I wish he'd just remained silent, but speaking has ruined the whole atmosphere I was enjoying.
I reach up and yank an arm hair out in retaliation. "Shit!" He retracts his arm and my head lands against the mattress, bouncing once, twice, and