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I didn’t notice Callum take up a paddle, not until it landed hard on my ass. I arched my back, wheezing out my breath.
“Yes,” he barked. “Fucking take it.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Callum Jackson was brutal with the paddle in his hand, but he was polished. Way more so than I’d expected. He read me with surprising ease, aware of the arc of pain as it crested and eased. He kept me on the edge, until my breathing was frantic and my skin was raw, and then finally, he cast the paddle aside and pressed the weight of his body tight onto mine. His t-shirt sailed across the bench, the heat of his chest so nice against my back. I wriggled underneath him, spreading my legs without reservation.
“Fuck me,” I hissed. “Please, Callum.”
I felt him shake out of his jeans, relieved to feel the swell of his cock against my burning skin. “Gonna take you in the ass,” he grunted. “Gonna take you fucking hard.”
My stomach lurched, nervous of the intrusion, and I was right to be. He spat on his hand to lube me up, but it was fucking tight. I squirmed under him, letting out a yelp as he pressed the head of his cock inside.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned. “You’re gonna milk my fucking cock dry.”
“Do it,” I rasped. “Make it hurt, I don’t care.”
“I hope you fucking bleed.”
I was pretty damn sure I would. It hurt like fuck, a searing pain right the way through me as he forced his entry.
“Do it!” I screeched. “Fuck me, Callum, just fuck me!”
He hissed and spluttered and ground his hips against my ass. Then he fucked me. Hard. It hurt so fucking bad, but it felt so fucking good.
“You wanted this,” he groaned. “You fucking wanted this.”
I had no breath, no words. Just pain. Glorious fucking pain.
“Gonna come in your dirty fucking hole,” he grunted. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”
He wrapped his hand around my thigh, thumb circling my clit as his cock jerked in my ass. It was enough. Enough to send me tumbling, exploding in beautiful release. My knees went from under me, and only his weight kept me from falling. He pulled out slowly, hands under my thighs to support me as I found my feet.
He spread my ass cheeks, grunting at the view.
“I can see inside you,” he growled. His fingers stretched me open, straining bruised flesh. “Your arsehole is fucking ruined, you’re gaping so fucking wide.”
“It’s fucking sore. I’ll be walking with a limp for a fucking month.”
He let me go, and I rose slowly, flinching at the pain. His eyes were on mine as I turned around, softer this time.
“You alright, Soph?”
I nodded. “I’m great.”
“Sure?”
“Deadly.”
“What d’you wanna do now?” he asked, reaching for his t-shirt. I stroked his chest before he covered it from view, but he didn’t allow me long. His mood had changed, I could feel it, feel the shutters coming down.
“Go home,” I said. “Sleep. Rest my poor battered asshole.”
“You need a lie down? You know... aftercare and shit?”
I smiled. “I’m fine, thank you. Nice thought, though.”
He shuffled on the spot. “Ain’t no good with this small talk shit, dunno what to say.”
