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An older bill caressed my stomach in a low swoop, soft and wrinkled. I sighed, arching toward the slow drag against my skin. Jesus, I was asking for more.
“You like that one?” Patrick’s voice dropped to a growl. “It’s nice and soft, isn’t it? Like you, right here.” The bill traveled over both my thighs.
And, oh God, his hands finally followed, squeezing and pinching the flesh that was the first to get out of control when I slacked off at the gym.
My face flushed. He must have known it would. He could probably tell at a glance that I tried to keep my curves in check.
His eyes weren’t ice now. They were hot with lust, blue fire moving from my thighs to my face, my red cheeks, my own eyes wide and pleading.
“Please…” I whispered
“Fuck,” he muttered, dropping the bill and spreading my legs wider. Thumbs opened my pussy with the lightest touch. I bit my fist to keep from screaming as he traced the outside of my lips, staring at my pulsing cunt.
Then he swept all the bills off the bed. Huge hands grabbed my waist and flipped me onto my stomach.
“Patrick,” I gasped.
“On your hands and knees, girl.”
Fury washed over me. Fury at being talked to like that. Fury that I was actually doing it, rising into position, waiting, quivering, letting out a long moan when he squeezed my hips.
When I heard the rip of foil, my whole body tightened. I stared over my shoulder just long enough to watch him put a condom on.
Hard flesh lodged in my opening. He sank inside me with one insistent push.
Jesus, I had never been filled like this. Never been aroused like this. Blind with anger, dizzy with lust, I couldn’t think. I couldn’t see. I just clutched his comforter in my fists and shook with need as Patrick took me.
His cock, huge and slippery, thrust inside me over and over, fucking me all the way through. I was on my hands and knees, kneeling, begging, pleading with him to stop, oh stop, never stop, please, I need more, give me more, oh God, just let me come already.
And through it all he kept going, steadily, mercilessly, savagely. Whispering a constant stream of words about how tight I was, how hot, how soft, how wet, how perfect, he knew I was the right girl for this. He knew I was scared, and I was going to take everything he gave me and beg for more.
“You’re so big,” I babbled. “I’ve never — oh Jesus —”
Fire flared through my cunt and thighs. What was happening? My clit. He was touching my clit. Softly, gently, teasing the exposed tip while I flooded his thick cock with juices.
“This is what it feels like to be mine.” His breath was cool in my ear. I shuddered from head to toe, squeezing his cock painfully hard as he inexorably sank into my cunt. “This is what it feels like to be my little slut.”
“Who do you think you are?” I gasped.
“I’m everything you’re afraid to want,” he whispered, “and everything you need.”
“You’re a bastard.” I was sobbing now, as hard as I had this afternoon.
“Mmmmm. So good. Let it out, baby.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks with each deep thrust. His cock stretched me open impossibly wide. Fingers stroked me, playing around my swollen clit, making me quiver with need.
“Oh — Oh God — I hate you, Patrick —“
“No, you don’t,” he hissed. “You just wish you hated me. You can’t fake anything here, Christina. You can only beg and plead while I do whatever I want with you. It’s soembarrassing,isn’t it? How you’re creaming and shaking and crying while you’re fucked by someone you want to hate, until we come together like two intimate lovers?”
I shrieked, tightening around him in one long wave. Everything came down to my center. Him, inside me. My cunt contracted in an agony of need and pleasure, ecstasy and despair. Patrick stayed immobile, a statue behind me as I arched toward him. Nothing moved except my pussy, clutching his length, and his fingers, forcing ripples of sharp pleasure through my body. More pleasure, and more, until I pleaded for mercy.
Then everything blurred. I moaned when his touch left my clit. A heavy hand pushed my face into the mattress. He pulled his hips back and slammed his cock into me.
The air left my body. Had I thought Patrick was brutal before? His thrusts were ferocious, primal, but frighteningly controlled. He was huge. I was close to coming again. Jesus, it felt incredible, in the worst best kind of way.
He was silent. We both were. The only sounds were his intent breaths and mine, pushed out with each thrust into my core.
