She nods. Then, she gasps as I push my thumb into her, mostly dry. Her muscles tighten, fighting me, but I keep going until I’m inside.
“Fuck,” she breathes, pupils wide.
One handed, I unzip my pants and free my cock. It’s so hard, I don’t have to guide it to her soaked entrance. But she’s so fucking tight, I have to brace myself on my free hand and push to get inside. Her cunt is slippery, wrapping around my cock, pulling me deeper as I push myself up against her ass. The muscles around my thumb are so tight, it hurts.
Good. I like it when we hurt together.
“I want you to answer me when I speak, alright?” I breathe.
She nods, biting her lip. “Yes.”
My hips pull back and surge. “Good fucking girl.”
My thumb presses down, firmly and gently, until I feel it against my cock. She writhes, nails digging into the table, scratching into the peeling wood. My eyes fall above her head as I withdraw and thrust back inside. The knot of wood stares back at me.
This time, it doesn’t feel dark.
No, I like this. I love the rawness of mutual pain. I like giving and taking.
I just needed to be given a choice.
And Della gave me that.
Here I am, in the place I never wanted to return to, and I think I’m healing. Or I’m so fucking close, I can taste it. She makes me the man I could have been. The man I want to be.
I close my eyes, sinking over her. I push my thumb in deeper, hearing her soft moan in response, and take her nice and slow. Feeling her from the inside with my cock and my touch. Reveling inhow she takes it, how she eats my darkness and turns it into something beautiful.
My orgasm comes in a wave, and I empty myself into her bare.
She lets me. For a woman with her past, with a child from a man she hates, it feels like the greatest gift to take this risk together. I know she’s on the shot, but she has to think about that tiny chance when I spill my cum inside her.
“Tell me how it feels,” I murmur into the nape of her neck.
“How what feels?” she gasps.
Sliding my finger from her ass, I rut my hips, pushing it all deeper. “Having my cum inside you.”
She bites her lip, suddenly shy.
“Tell me, baby,” I urge.
“I don’t know,” she breathes out. “It feels so good.”
She knows, but she’s not ready to tell me, and that bothers me. Maybe it shouldn’t. We don’t know each other that well. That bothers me too. For what I feel when I look at her, we should have been married for fucking years.
That makes me a little angry.
I pull out and flip her on her back. Her breasts heave, nipples hard. I run my tongue down between her naked breasts to her soft, wet cunt. Sinking to my knees, I bury my face in it. I love everything about her body. I like that I can still taste her for hours afterwards, how I still smell her, or I think I do, the next day.
She arches, pushing her pussy up, riding it on my mustache. Goddamn, I’m rock hard again. Little whimpers spill from her lips. I eat her out like I have something to prove. A sick part of me gets intense satisfaction from the fact that I’m the first man to make her come.
She comes for me, dripping down my neck.
She never came for him.
I lift my head, long enough to slide my finger into her cunt. The muscles throb, pulling me deep. She’s velvety hot, so fucking tight. I find her g-spot and stroke it, up and down. Then, I tap it lightly until she undulates her hips. They lift off the table. Then, they start to coil.I lower my mouth to her clit and pull it between my teeth, keeping even pressure as I stroke it with my tongue.
She likes a little pain, like such a good girl.
