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He retrieves the ball of yarn, then turns back to me. He pushes my shirt out of the way, then begins to wind the wool above my breasts. He knots it, then loops it under my breast again and again. He does this until he has a framework of crisscrossing wool that encases my breasts, with only the nipples bared. He knots it a few times under my cleavage, then pulls it down to hold back each of my pussy lips. He draws it under me and up the cleavage between my ass cheeks. The chafe of the wool against my already abraded skin sends shudders of heat vibrating out from the contact. My thighs clench, my pussy spasms, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
"Oh god," I groan, "it’s too much. I can’t take it."
"You can." He loops the wool under the lattice he’s woven under my breasts, then tugs. Pinpricks of sensation burst up my spine and flash behind my eyes. A whine bleeds from my lips. "Please, Christian, please," I moan, "please, please, please."
"Hush," he admonishes me. I hear the scrape of metal against metal as he lowers his zipper. I open my eyelids to find him glaring down at me. He grips the backs of my thighs and hauls me up. I wind my legs around him, and he’s inside me. I huff as he slams into me, tugging, pulling, stretching at my channel.
"Jesus," I snarl, "did you have to be this big?"
"Did you have to be this tiny and hot and tight, and so goddamn perfect?"
I frown. Perfect. He called me perfect? "I am not—"
"Yes, you are." He pulls out, then lunges forward, and once more, crams himself into me. "You’re perfect; you hear me?" He retreats, then pushes into me again with enough force that my entire body shudders. "Perfectly made. Perfect for my cock. Perfect to be fucked. Perfect to be broken. By me."
He drills into me, and I throw my head back and yell, "Oh my fucking god."
"Don’t blaspheme the name of the Lord, Flower."
"What the hell?" I scowl. "So, you can say a four-letter word in the same breath as the Lord’s name, and I—"
"You can’t." He smirks. "Just how it is."
I open and shut my mouth, and he laughs again. "Just kidding, Flower. What do you take me for, a misogynist?" He smirks.
Among other things.
"You’re hurting me," I snap.
"And you love it."
"You can’t keep professing to read my thoughts."
"Want me to stop?" He raises one eyebrow. "Just say the word, and I’ll pull out."
I hesitate, he begins to retreat, and that’s when I dig my heels into his back. "Don’t you dare," I say in a low voice. "You’re already in; you may as well finish what you started."
He peers into my eyes. "I have news for you," he says in a conversational tone, "I’m not even half-way in."
"What the—"
He pulls out, then slams into me with enough impact that his balls smash into my lower arse. Ouch! He rams himself inside me, and ow, it hurts, it hurts. He’s so big, so thick, so bloody massive that I swear, I can feel him in my throat. He begins to fuck me in earnest—in, out, in… Each time, his pelvic bone grinds into my clit. Pinpricks of heat vibrate out from the impact. The tension at the base of my spine spirals out. Oh, god. Oh my god, I’m going to come.
It's as if he reads my mind for that's when he pulls out.
36
Aurora
What the hell? What is he up to? He sinks to his knees in between my legs and swipes his tongue up my pussy lips. A groan bleeds from my lips. That’s so hot and so damn filthy. The fact that he’d stop mid-fuck and begin to eat me out is way too much for me to process. My brain cells seem to melt, all at the same time, as I give in to his ministrations. He hauls one knee over his shoulder, spreading me further, then he thrusts his tongue inside my channel, in, out, in. He squeezes my ass cheeks, and pain bursts across my already abraded skin. My pussy instantly spasms, and a groan rumbles up his chest. He slides his fingers between my ass cheeks and brushes against my puckered hole. I draw in a breath as he bites down on my clit, and shudders grip me. My fingers tingle, and I strain against the satin ribbon, which is surprisingly resilient. Goddamit, I want to touch him, want to dig my fingers in his hair and tug on it and hold on as he continues to eat me. Tremors slide down my back, and I squeeze down on his tongue; I throw my head back, knowing I am going to slide over the edge, and that’s when he withdraws. Again. What the—! I snap my eyes open to find that he’s rising to his feet. He grabs my leg, wraps it around his waist, then slides his fingers to my melting core. He scoops up the moisture and smears it across my back entrance.
"N-no," I stammer, "please no."
"You don’t get a say in how I take you, Flower."
My heart begins to race, my pulse slams against my wrists, and my nipples tighten, even as my stomach ties itself in knots. "You’re too big," I whimper.
"You can take it."
