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A horizontal strip of me is naked now, the most private part of me. My eyes flutter closed. It feels like a storm is whirling inside my body as I await desecration.
With a low chuckle, Rory pushes himself back into a crouch to gaze at my naked, quivering thighs. Slowly, his hands slip under the fabric of my skirt. His fist tightens around the ball of material at my hips, sliding up my thighs and pushing them apart until his fingers find the entrance to my cunt. I gasp loudly, arching my hips away from the stone.
Rory’s nose nuzzles my dark curls. He finds the tender spot that makes me tremble and inhales softly, his hot tongue tasting the tight nub of my clit. At once, all of me burns. I shudder, trapped between Rory’s mouth and the standing stone, grateful that it, unlike me, is unlikely to fall.
My fingers tighten in his hair as Rory continues lapping at my clit. He toys with my folds, playing with my warm cleft until he reaches my molten-hot entrance. Fingertips trace my drenched cunt. A low moan escapes my throat. And then he pushes a finger inside.
I can’t help my soft scream. My legs wobble, my cunt gushes. As Rory rubs the swollen, sensitive bead, it takes all my effort not to collapse onto the cobbles.
It’s the most beautiful violation, an assault on my body. Rory’s lips pinch lovingly at my swollen clit as his fingers glide inside me, as if to test how much of my essence he can extract. I moan, my body trembling with pleasure. He continues to stroke me, his fingers moving in and out in fluid motions that split my faculties and warp my brain, and I feel myself growing wetter and wetter at his sweet attentions. I want to come, so badly. Somehow I’m the one now at his mercy. But perhaps I always was.
Without asking, Rory pushes another finger inside me. All of me is spread and speared. He pumps them slowly at first, and I bite back a whimper as I shudder uselessly, propped up and prop-like, against the stone. Then he presses his finger harder, more firmly, and I moan louder into the chilled air.
How off-limits are we really? Surely someone could hear me?
The thought only turns me on more as Rory finger-fucks me to oblivion. He thrusts in and out, hard and fast and blissfully deep. It’s almost painful. With each blow of his finger, I’m a panting mess, my head spinning with the promised onslaught of orgasm.
He’s stopped licking me, instead watching the riot of emotion flashing across my face. I lost my ability to express the moment he inserted his lithe fingers inside me, so I can’t scream my need for Rory’s tongue on me like the greedy slut I am, no matter how much I want it. I feel my juices seeping past Rory’s embedded fingers, down past knuckles and into his cupped palm. My head rolls heavily against my shoulder, defeated.
“You should see yourself like this,” Rory murmurs, a dangerous lilt to his voice, like maybe yes, he will keep me in this position forever, careering me toward orgasm and sadistically keeping me from its reach.
“Shut up,” I manage, which only makes Rory grin, toothy and feral.
He thrusts in and out, hard and fast andlong, as if it’s a punishment. It’s almost painful, and with each blow of Rory’s fingers, I’m panting. My cunt pulsates around him. He leans forward, pressing his lips against my clit, and sucks me into his hot, wet mouth.Reward.
His licks are wet and messy. His fingers are rough perfection.
Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, threatening to spill.
My toes curl. My whole body shakes.
And then — nothing.
Rory’s fingers slide out of me in a single, wicked motion, leaving me panting with need, before pulling his face from my clit. I grind against cold air.
“What the fuck?” My voice is one of sheer, greedy outrage. I stare down at Rory, betrayed. He ignores me, instead dipping his fingers in the juice he’s created and tracing it over my skin.
My lower half is sopping. He paints soft, secret lines on the front of my thighs using my invisible ink. It reminds me of Danny in art class, covering my belly with royal purple paint that professed his unspoken love. I wonder what Rory’s writing. But mostly, I wonder when his mouth will fix itself back into position and fuck the orgasm I deserve into my body.
His fingers walk along the diagonal crease above my thigh, soft enough to deliberately tickle. I wriggle beneath his touch and press deeper into the stone. His gray eyes only sharpen like a hunter.
“When you’re compliant, I’ll be nice to you.”
“Fuck you.”
His grin widens.
“Remember to breathe,” he advises loftily from his position at my feet; instead, I have the desire to knee him in the nose. Still, I do as he says, sucking in a deep lungful of bitterly cold air, my eyes fluttering closed. I find myself relaxing, just a fraction, into the standing stone. My body is limp. My cunt is hot and craving. As I sag deeper against the stone, it’s a wonder I’m able to stand at all.
Rory’s fingers continue to play along the crease of my thigh, toying with my curls before sliding down, down, down the delicate path of furrowed skin. I blink at him, bemused. He looks full of mischief with every edge of his fingers further along the track of skin. The tension in my legs is almost unbearable, trembling around Rory’s exploring hand.
“I can touch you anywhere.” It’s not a question, but for some reason, he lifts his head and asks, “Can’t I?”
“Y-Yes.” When did this happen? Hadn’t I been the one instructed by stone and issuing commands? Without my noticing, he’s flipped the script and seized every sliver of control I’d had until I’m nothing but liquid pooling in his palm and stammering my consent. It’s infuriating, but it’s also the reason I’m mostly liquid and the reason he has me stammering in the first place.
Satisfied by my shaky response, Rory says, “Good. Hold up your skirt for me.” He passes up the bundle of my plaid skirt from his fist, and I swallow, unsure how I’m supposed to control the pressure in my fingers when there’s little else I control. I gather the soft material into a ball in my hand, lifting it from my hipbone to my waist, exposing yet more of my skin to the elements and secretly reveling in it. For a moment, Rory leans back onto his heels and just watches me. Lust flickers across his face as he takes me in, as he sees how expertly he’s wrecked me.
Without warning, he runs both hands through my parted thighs and cups my backside. He splays my cheeks open.
