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“I’m going to fuck you, my sweet Rose,” I told her with a chuckle. “And when I’ve torn off your petals, and broken your thorns, I’ll fuck off. But I will break you beyond repair until there’s nothing left for anyone else. No man or woman will ever have you the way I do. Because you’re mine.”
And just as I suspected, she groaned. As aroused by my possession of her as I was.
But she needed more of my marks. Before I marked her insides.
I pulled her pants down further, but the tight jeans just pulled her legs closed, and halted at the top of her knee high boots. Fuck it. I wanted to see her beautiful face when I fucked her, but I couldn’t care less now.
I flipped her onto her stomach, her knees held together by her own clothes. I picked up her hips so that her knees barely rested on the edge of the couch, her boots dangling in the air, unable to stabilize themselves on the floor. I pulled her black panties until they tore at the seams. The gorgeous things left two identical red marks on her hips. I placed the offending garment in my pocket. Just a little souvenir of this moment.
My hand rose into the air, and with a great arc, smacked the side of her arse. My hand print reddened and rose and fuck. That undid me.
I undid my belt and my trousers, unleashing my cock and sheathing inside her. Just like in France, my body hummed with the knowledge that this was right. That I belonged in her body and that she was carved just for me. Her softness against my stiff cock. She pushed back against the backrest, her arms extending, her head arching backward as she screamed.
I wound her hair around my fist, turning her head like it was a leash. It was beautiful, and perfect, and tragic. I knew that in a moment, this perfection would slip out of my grasp. I wanted to seal her to me. I wanted the freedom that would come from handcuffing her to me forever, so she’d never be out of my sight.
I pistoned inside her, pulling her onto my cock by the hair. Her body pulsed and throbbed around me. I let out a growl, and brought my teeth down to the curve of her neck, biting hard, which only made her whimper.
“Tell me you’re mine.” I said against her cheek, licking my way up to her ear. “Tell me you’re my little slut.”
She shook her head, her hair tugging in my hand.
“Say it.” I insisted, slowing down my hips.
She whimpered at my changed pace. The little vixen wanted more. She wanted it harder. She was an animal, just like me. But Rose, the woman, had to admit that she belonged to me.
I needed that. For my sanity. For my soul.
I stopped, my tip right at her entrance. She moaned and tried to slip her hips down over my cock. She tried to push into me, but I placed my hand on her arse, and pulled on her hair, arching her back further until she couldn’t move.
“I’m in control now, Rose.” I told her. “Say that you’re mine, and I’ll give you more pleasure than you can handle.”
It was a threat. And a promise. Both a carrot and a stick.
I thrust once into her, then pulled back until my tip hovered at her entrance. Her eyes went wide, her whimper stuck in her throat, and I saw the start of a tear on her cheek. I would make her weep in ecstasy.
“I…” her voice broke. Her resolve was crumbling. I need to smash through her will and make the vixen surrender. “I…”
I thrust again, bottoming out in her tightness.
“I’m yours!” The words spilled out, as though it was water in an overfilled glass that she couldn’t keep steady. “I’m yours.” This time it was softer, almost a defeated admission.
“Now tell me you’re my slut.” I pushed, wanting more. I wanted to pull the confessions out of her like a string until she unraveled. “Tell me there will never be anyone else but me.”
“... No one else.” She said, her quavering voice barely understandable. “I’m yours.”
“You’re my slut,” I said to her like she was a child that needed to learn how to repeat after her teacher. “Say it…”
“I’m not a slut,” she cried.
“You’remyslut,“ I corrected her. “Say it.”
The hand that was on her arse snaked around her hips, over her hipbone, down to the beautiful, smooth mound until it found the little swollen bundle aching for my attention. I swiped it, gently, and she shuddered.
“I’m your…” She shook her head, trying to summon what little self-control she had. It made me laugh. She had no control here. Not in this situation. A powerful woman on her knees, before her man.
“Slut.” I said, swiping her clit with the pad of my finger again. “Say it.”
I swiped again, and she whimpered. Again and again, then drew my hand away.
