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He presses my head into the ground as he nears orgasm, slowing himself to regain some of his control. The idea that he has to hold back from cumming in my pussy turns me on even more. I want him to struggle, to fight against what he wants most, just to make this last a little longer.
“You want me to cum inside you, baby? Would you like that?” he says, his voice low and smoky. “You want me to fill up your pussy?”
I moan out loud, completely unable to hold myself back anymore. “Yes, yes please. I want that more than anything!”
He spanks me hard. “What did I tell you about being so fucking loud? I- fuck. Oh, fuck,” he moans as his orgasm overtakes him. He thrusts hard and fast, causing me to bite down on my own coat to keep from screaming out loud. If this is what he’s always like with women, I bet his neighbors hate him.
When he begins to slow down, I feel my head swirling with endorphins like I’ve never felt before. It’s what I imagine being high would be like, and I refuse to believe otherwise. Nothing on earth has ever released this sense of pure bliss.
Did I just become addicted to a person?
Saint lies down next to me, pulling me closer to him as I lay on his chest. “Well, that was unexpected. Hope it wasn’t too bad for you,” he jokes. He knows exactly how good it was, but he needs me to say it out loud now. He must have a hell of an ego, but I don’t even think that bothers me anymore. I’d let him fuck me whenever and wherever he wanted.
10
Holly
It felt like it took forever, but we were able to make it out of the woods by eight in the morning, eventually reaching the city by ten. Saint’s arm was looking far worse than it had in the moonlight, of course, and I hadn’t realized just how injured he was when we were sleeping under the pine tree. The thought that he wanted to have sex with me, even in such a state, flatters me so much that it’s hard to keep myself from fantasizing about it.
Throughout the entire night, I faded in and out of consciousness to the thought that we were both going to die out in the woods. After we had stopped having sex, the excess warmth between us dissipated, and I would wake up periodically believing that I was moments from death. I have no idea how Saint felt, and I don’t feel the need to find out, but he definitely looks worn out.
The walk through the forest is difficult with both of our injuries, but the warmth from the sun makes it far easier. It almost feels pleasant in comparison to walking in the pitch black.
Even with his arm shredded from the bullet, even in the freezing cold, he was still able to fuck me better than any man I’ve ever been with. In fact, I’d say he’s even in a league of his own. He was confident, strong, and intent on making me feel good the entire time. I’ve never met a man who was able to make me wish I could be quieter.
His confidence was one of the most attractive things I’ve ever seen. He didn’t need me to validate him, and he didn’t stop fucking me if I changed positions. Instead, he adapted to the way that I wanted to receive him. He was happy enough just fucking me.
I’ve dated too many guys who expect me to carry their egos when we have sex, and some of them would get angry with me if I didn’t. I hadn’t signed up to be the one who would make them feel like a man. I just wanted to share my body with them. Being with a man who’s confident in his masculinity feels so freeing. I didn’t have to worry about him being petty and silent toward me in the morning at all.
Aside from sex, though, we really do need to find somewhere for Saint to have his arm looked at. Even though he seems to be carrying it really well, I can’t imagine how much it must hurt to have a bullet in your arm. It makes me wonder about whether he’s been shot before, and I realize quickly that he probably has.
Coming down from the woods into a residential area of the city feels symbolic in some way. It felt like we were never going to get there, and even though we were only out in the woods for one night, I feel like a changed person because of it. I’ve never had my safety threatened so directly before, and this whole experience has made me so grateful to be alive. It’s changed the way I’m going to go about some things, that’s for sure.
There’s a small urgent care clinic on the outskirts of the city right before we entered the main downtown area. It doesn’t take long for us to be seen when we explain Saint’s condition, but they definitely look at us funny when we’re so hesitant to explain why. They stitch up his arm without much questioning, and it’s obvious that Saint felt a hundred times better without an open wound catching the freezing air.
Now that I think about it, I wonder what he could do to me when he’s healed.
When we finally reach the city, we’re able to charge both of our phones inside of a café that has all kinds of chargers for people who are there to work on their various devices. I’d been worried that we would have to wander the city until we found a place to buy a charger, but within twenty minutes, Saint is able to call someone who brings him a new car from his own collection.
I’m glad he chose to be honest with me about his mafia involvement, because all of this would be getting progressively harder for him to cover up. If I had to figure it out for myself, I would have run away from him as soon as we got to the clinic. It would feel bad, like I was betraying him, but I have no idea how to navigate a situation like this in the first place. Dishonesty would have just made it so much worse.
Anyway, it must be nice to have someone always on call to serve you however you need. But based on what he’s told me of his occupation, the stress would far outweigh the benefits.
Regardless, being in a car with heated seats feels incredible after sleeping outside all night.
Saint is unusually quiet as he drives me to my house. Even directing him through the neighborhood feels unnatural and demanding. I wonder to myself if he feels weird about having sex with me, and I come up with a million reasons why before we even pull up to my driveway. I’d be so embarrassed if he thought I was gross or bad at sex.
When he stops the car to let me out, I’m at a loss as to what the appropriate next step would be. I’ve never had a one-night-stand before, and even if I had, it would have been completely different from what I’d experienced with Saint. It’s not the same as stumbling home from some loser’s apartment at four in the morning. This feels more significant somehow. Maybe it’s the mutual fear of impending death.
It’s embarrassing to say, but I feel a strong attachment to him that makes the prospect of seeing him leave very difficult for me. It makes me look and feel like a lost puppy, which is sort of pathetic and sad to think about. I’d never tell him that I feel that way, that’s for sure. Maybe he’s figured it out, and he’s repulsed by it. The concept that he would withdraw from me because of that makes me sick to my stomach.
I get out of the car, and he follows me up to my front door. At least he had the thought to come up with me without having to ask. Would he try to follow me in to have sex again? I don’t want to be too hopeful, but I’d love to see what he’s capable of when he isn’t incapacitated by pain and fatigue.
“Um, are you going to come inside?” I ask awkwardly when he stops short of the doorway.
“No, that won’t be necessary. I do have something for you though,” he replies, walking back to the car as he motions for me to wait.
What could he possibly have for me? The prospect of a gift from him feels meaningful, but then again, he probably sends something to every woman he fucks. Maybe it’s a bouquet of flowers or something.
