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I don’t get to enjoy it long; the tip of his cock is there, seated at my entrance.
“I don’t think I’m ready…” The words are out before I realize I’ve uttered them.
Chase is so still, I can hear my ragged breaths. Then, fisting a hand in my hair, he pulls my head back as he leans over me. “Remember what we discussed this morning? I don’t have the patience for indecisiveness, temptress. Are you ready for me?”
My chest tight, I leap forward. “Yes, Master.”
His low groan of approval slips over me. “You’re more than ready, temptress. Your ass has been begging for this since you first bent over to change that slide, you fucking tease.”
My eyes squeeze shut, but my body reacts to his accusation. I’m hot and achy, and before I’m able to refute any such claim that I purposely provoked him, he releases my hair and pushes inside my channel.
White-hot pain sparks behind my lids. The music from beyond the room heightens, the beat hitting my ears in sync with the sharp throb. That pain pulses and increases the farther he drives inside, opening me up to take him.
My fingers curl around the link of chain, my arms shaking as I find a grip. And when he backs out only to slam inside once again, I grit my teeth, my voice lost as air vacates my lungs.
His groan fuels the fire rising between us. “You want me to tell you how tight you are?” he asks as he plunges deeper, his voice as strained as my muscles. “You’d love that. Hearing how much I love your tight ass. How I can think of nothing else but fucking your little hole over and over, filling you, releasing inside you, but you know this. You know how badly you effect me – and how much I crave you.”
Those impassioned words coil around my pain, transforming the piercing ache into a pleasurable friction that demands his rough thrusts. “God – yes. Crave me. Fuck me…harder.”
I can’t believe my own loss of control—but there’s a visceral desire surging within me to own this man right back. I want to feel his loss of control. I want to make this powerful man powerless in wanting me. I want him to need me…until it breaks him.
It’s as if a switch is flipped. And I feel the moment it happens—the breathy curse that falls from his mouth as his body quakes. The need thrumming through him so violently, he wraps his hand around my throat and drives inside me with an abandon that’s frightening…until I push back, accepting him fully.
Heat travels the length of my body, igniting my tender skin, curling and arcing as he takes every last inch for himself. As he tightens his hold, nearly sealing off my breathing, the light in the room dims further. The pressure builds until I’m gasping, frantic.
His growl tears through me as he rips his hand away, and the wave that crashes over me as I take a full breath is shattering. So much pleasure my body feels physically unable to handle the swell. He reaches down and strokes my clit right as I tighten around him. He knows my body, anticipates my signals. And the orgasm grabs hold. Fierce. All-consuming.
Fall. Fall. Fall.
I’m twisted, and warped, and distorted beneath his ravenous taking—and I’m willing. Willing to be shaped and altered into what he most desires. I’m his perfect, willing toy. Only I’m so much more, and the yearning to be his everything is almost unbearable as my climax spirals around us.
He falls against my back, his heavy breaths singeing my sensitized skin, his cock pulsing inside me. The beat of his heart hammers in sync to the racing of mine, and as he clutches his arms around me, branding me with his fingers as they dig into my flesh, I pray they leave behind a mark. Some physical sign that this moment is real.
“You’re going to be my ruin,” he whispers before he pulls out. “And I’m going to punish you for it.”
His vow should elicit fear, but I’m not afraid of him. I’m frightened that when he does, as I’m begging him to discipline me within my overturned world, I’ll be powerless against falling maddeningly in love with him.
10
Disparagement
Chase
There’s a baring of the soul that no one should witness.
It’s painful and destructive, and when exposed, decimates everything in its path.
The smiles we hide behind, the fake nuances, the cordial, polite, boring exchanges. The pleasantries we force ourselves to spew day after day… they are necessary, despite being exhausting. We do them because it’s what keeps others and ourselves protected.
So when those walls come crashing down, and you let someone see the truth of you, there’s a certain damage control which must follow. We do not want to be looked upon as if we are that thing in our worst moment.
Because that’s what we say, right? I wasn’t myself… I was so angry, I didn’t mean those words. But the sick truth is, we always mean them. They are the undisguised actuality of our thoughts, spit out in a moment of panic, fear, heightened emotion.
We do not want to be this vile thing…yet we are.
The absolute, unvarnished truth of a person is gruesome.
Like salt in the wound, that is the sting of our true nature.
