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Then she felt the tip of the plug, narrowed for entry before it widened to that thickness her mind shied away from, and she pulled in a deep, scared sort of breath. Scared, electrified—she couldn’t really tell the difference.
“Push out,” he told her, but he didn’t wait for her to obey him. He simply began pushing the slicked-up item deep inside her.
It didn’t exactly hurt, though it wasn’t at all comfortable. Still, it was thrilling at the same time, because he was relentless. It wasn’t about the butt plug. It was his will and her surrender, and the struggle wasn’t between her and him, but inside herself.
And the more she accepted that, the wetter her pussy got and the more she pushed herself back against the plug to help him seat it inside her.
“Someday, baby, that’s going to be me,” he told her, low and fierce.
It made her shudder, her clit pulsing as if she was dangerously close to coming already.
She fought it back, but she was breathless by the time he got the plug all the way in. And she couldn’t have said if it was from that cartwheeling, delighted thing inside her because he was here and this was happening, or the laughter she couldn’t quite hold back, or all the other things she felt for him—because God, what didn’t she feel for him?
And then it didn’t matter, because she heard the tear of a condom wrapper.
One hand rested on her low back, keeping her in place. And his cock was there at the entrance to her pussy, as broad and thick as she remembered it.
He thrust himself inside her, hard and deep, and Erika had to bite the tufted pillow in front of her face to keep her scream inside.
“I didn’t hear you thank me,” he said, and she heard her own crazy breath as she pulled it in, high-pitched and wild.
“Th-thank you...” she managed to get out.
“Who are you thanking, kitten?” came his voice, a dark and silken thread that wrapped around her and pulled tight.
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
And she meant it.
His cock was a revelation inside her. The plug in her ass made her tighter, and him bigger, and he was not a small man. She wanted to explode on the spot, so crammed full of him—of Dorian and his demands and his desires—that she shuddered right there on the edge of a climax—
But only in the last moment, remembered that she was not to come.
“Oh my God,” she whispered under her breath.
Dorian laughed, and then he began to fuck her.
He took her hard and deep, the way he always did. As if she wasn’t tighter than usual. And he didn’t slow down. Or speed up.
It was that same, unyielding, relentless rhythm that haunted her in her sleep. It was a greedy, glorious pounding, and normally she would have come twice already.
But she fought it. Erika could feel every inch of him in Technicolor, but she held on.
Her clit ached, and her thighs quivered, and she thought there were tears tracking down her face, but somehow, she held on.
“You’re such a good girl,” he said, leaning over her, his voice a dark taunt, giving her back those words that no one had said to her since she was a child. Making them new. And his. “You’re trying so hard to please me.”
Erika couldn’t speak. She couldn’t do anything but hold herself as tightly and as carefully as possible, because the slightest wrong move—
“But I told you before. Sometimes, no matter how good you are, I’m just going to want to punish you. Because I can. And because it’s fun.”
And his wicked, terrible hand snaked around, took her plump, desperate clit between his fingers and pinched. Hard.
Erika went nuclear.
She didn’t pass out. Not quite. She was aware that he’d sneaked a hand up and covered her mouth, which is the only reason she didn’t scream the house down around their ears. She felt him come hard with a low groan.
But she was ruined. Already destroyed and beyond saving, and she couldn’t seem to care.
