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She swallows, huge eyes locked on my dick.
“Please tell me you’re not a fucking virgin,” I ask, realizing this could be the panic I see.
She blinks, drags her gaze to mine. She’s still mute.
I raise my eyebrows and she shakes her head.
Good.
I smile, lean down over her, cupping the back of her head, twining my fingers in her thick hair and holding her when she tries to turn away. I slide my other hand between her legs and bring my face to hers, inhaling deeply, turning her a little to take the lobe of her ear between my teeth.
“Think you can take it all?” I whisper when she whimpers as I rub her swollen, wet clit.
Drawing my hand away, I lay my weight on her, grip one thigh, bend her leg at the knee and open her up. She’s so tight when I push into her that for a moment, I wonder if she lied. If she is a virgin.
I watch her face as her warmth envelops me, and I think yes, I want to tear into her. I want to feel her heat.
Her face tenses as she stretches to take me. She makes a sound, a whimper, and her hands are on my shoulders, nails digging into my back.
“It hurts,” she says.
“You’re tight.” I move inside her, feel her juices lubricating the passage, pull out, thrust. “That one’s for slapping me.”
“It hurts,” she repeats, and there’s that panicked expression again, her eyes almost child-like when they meet mine.
I slow, draw back.
Her nails dig into my biceps, my chest. I’m sure she’s drawing blood now.
“Easy, Melissa,” I say, taking one of her wrists and drawing it to the side. “Relax.”
She looks over at it, at my hand on her wrist. She makes a sound and I can hear and feel her breathing coming shorter as she tugs at her wrist.
My grip isn’t hard but I keep hold of her.
Realizing she’s not a match for me, she turns those big eyes back to mine and the skin around them is wet. A tear slides down the side of her face.
“Let me go.”
“You need to relax. It won’t hurt if you relax.”
“Please let me go.”
Watching her face, it’s strange, like it’s taking all she has not to break out into a full panic.
I pull out of her, take her other wrist and drag her arms over her head.
She arches her back, twisting to see what I’m doing, and when she feels the leather of the first cuff wrap around her wrist, the sound that comes from her is like that of an animal.
Not a fighting one.
A wounded one.
Once both wrists are secured, I take my weight off her and slide down her slender body between her legs. With my hands on her thighs, I open them wider.
“Let me loose. Please.”
Her pussy’s wet, dripping. She’s ready. Even as tight as she is, she’s ready. But I’ll give her this first.
I dip my head down and lick her and hear her sharp intake of breath as she goes dead still.
I do it again, circling her clit, then taking it into my mouth.
“Please!” she cries out and when I suck that hard, little nub, it’s moments before her back arches and she lets out a long moan. Her eyes are closed, face tense, hands fisted in their restraints and she’s coming. She’s coming hard and fuck, she tastes good. She tastes amazing.
I don’t go down on women. I haven’t in too long to even remember their taste.
But her. I can’t get enough of her and when I ease my grip on her thighs, she bends her knees on my shoulders, squeezes and whimpers.
I suck harder, drawing out her orgasm, wanting another.
“Oh God. Please stop!” She’s panting and her thighs are squeezing and she’s coming again, bucking with her release even as she begs me to stop.
I taste her, relish her every breath, every whimper. I only let up when she falls limp on the bed.
I kneel up between her legs, look at the gaping pink of her dripping cunt, then at her face. She’s relaxed and soft, her eyes like the color of sand on the softest beach.
“I like your taste,” I tell her.
“Please take these off. I’ll do what you say. Please take them off.”
“Not yet.”
I lift her hips, turn her over. She tries to immediately turn back, but I stop her.
She makes that sound again, that wounded, panicked sound.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Melissa,” I tell her.
She buries her face in the bed.
“You’re safe.”
“I’m sorry I slapped you. I won’t do it again. Just take them off.”
“Look at me.”
She shakes her head.
“Look at me and I’ll take them off.”
It takes her a long minute, but she turns her head and her face is wet with tears and I remember what she’d said about men. About being forced.
