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“Is it possible to fuck someone to death?” I beam lazily at him.
His answering thrust rises to the challenge. “Only one way to find out.”
No easing into it this time. His body rams into mine with thunderous force. Changing the angle, he pushes my knees to my shoulders and spreads me wider, wider, until I’m stretched impossibly open. Gaping. Exposed. Vulnerable. He can see everything—every hole, freckle, and hair between my legs.
He stares. Of course, he fucking stares.
“Swollen,” he murmurs, sliding fully out and staring closer. “Pink and wet and beautifully swollen.” His gaze flicks to mine. “You’re arresting.”
“Thank you.” I have a breath left, just one, and I use it with quivering effort in the awkward position. “Put it back in now.”
“Which hole?” With a smirk, he doesn’t give me time to answer before sheathing himself in my cunt.
He braces his hands on the backs of my thighs and fucks into me like it’s his last night on earth. Pinned and restrained beneath him, I can’t move, can’t meet his thrusts. All I can do is receive his ungodly assault, grunting with each drive of his hips.
He’s a machine, a tireless, inhuman unit of strength and endurance. When he groans my name again, fills me with come, and continues moving inside me, I know I’m well and truly fucked.
Because he’s not finished.
Three more times, he proves his stamina. I can’t remember the last time I lost count of my orgasms. For the past few hours, I’ve been too busy pleading, laughing, swearing, and coming.
I’ve never passed out from sex, yet here I am, face-down on his bed, drooling on his pillow, floating in and out of consciousness.
Suddenly, he’s at my back, his mouth at my ear. “Tell me something.” He slides a hand around my hip, dips it between my legs, past my well-loved pussy, and fingers the rim of my back hole. “How much groveling is required to claim this beautiful ass?”
Everything throbs and swells in answer.
Aroused. I’m indeed still aroused. A wanton puddle of boneless limbs and undying desire.
Far be it for me to deny this man.
“No more groveling.” I release a throaty sigh. “All of me is yours. Do it. Erase every man who came before you.”
“My pleasure.” He uses my juices to lubricate us both, causing more heat to gather beneath his sliding touch. “You don’t know how honored I am to have this privilege. I’ve never done this…like this.”
Never penetrated someone anally. He was only on the receiving end, and it was never consensual.
“You won’t hurt me.” I arch my rear against his probing fingers. “I’m relaxed. So damn horny for you. I want it. I want you. That makes all the difference in the world.”
Parting my legs, he eases his body into the space there, presses against my backside, and this time, I can’t hold in my cry.
The burn. The stretch. The sheer girth and heaviness of his cock. I know he’s huge and intimidating, but I really feel it now.
In the best way possible.
“Keep going.” I claw at the bedding and bite the pillow. “Don’t stop.”
The sounds he makes—black, tortured, haunted sounds—tangle inside me. With each stroke in my ass, he relives nightmares. And reshapes them. With every tormented thrust, he reclaims what was taken from him. This is perhaps the best thing I can give him, this power over me, the opportunity to dominate someone in this position.
I don’t know if a psychiatrist would agree, but it feels liberating. For both of us.
Doesn’t hurt that I love the pleasure he produces. I love his wildness, his savagery. Every hammering drive in my ass soaks my empty pussy, smoldering fresh heat.
When he sets his lips at my ear and rasps, “Come,” my entire body combusts in scorching spasms and bursting blood vessels. As he groans through his own release, ribbons of white-hot pleasure curl through my limbs, my organs, in a vicious, endless shredding of my soul.
I realize that here, in this place of death and nightmares, beneath the shimmering aurora, amid the desolation, the laughter, the fear, and the love, that I’m finally breathing. Finally living.
I’m finding parts of my soul I didn’t know were missing. Finding the home I didn’t know I needed.
He is my home.
And he may not be the only one.
I should tell him.
Not now. I won’t have this conversation now. It means admitting my feelings for more than one man. Dangerous feelings I haven’t processed or accepted.
“There might be something wrong with me.” He withdraws from my body and rubs his still very hard cock against my hip. “It won’t go down.”
Limp with exhaustion, I bury my face into the pillow and groan.
“This is your fault.” He nuzzles my neck.
“There are worse things to complain about.”
“Definitely not complaining. Best night of my life.”
“By the feel of things…” I wriggle against his erection. “The night isn’t over.”
