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“Spread your legs wider for me,” he commands. It’s not a request.
I hesitate for only a moment before stepping my feet apart. My cunt is dripping and exposed, the elastic loops of my tights and underwear stretched to bursting around my lower thighs.
When two hands prize my cheeks apart, I gasp. Everything there is delicate and not as commonly explored. Even in the chill air, absurd sweat springs along my flushed skin. This is a rare treat.
His finger gently traces the cleft of my backside from the base of my spine all the way around. Rory buries his face in my curls, planting hot, urgent kisses on my clit. I’m overwhelmed with sensation. Rory’s other hand grips my hip, pinning me to the stones. All I can do is tighten my fingers around the material of my skirt, hitching it higher and higher for Rory to get access to anything he wants.
A finger pushes inside me. My eyes fly open, staring at the sky.
The sun is waning above us, as if the light has dramatically fallen or been obscured during all the time we’ve been playing. And just as I’d done before in politics class, I see the outlines, sketches, of all that could be. It looks natural, normal. I don’t even question the strange sights I’m seeing, the shapes of the entire world converging right in front of me.
“You’re so beautiful,” Rory whispers reverently, drawing circles on the back of my leg with his thumb. I shiver with pleasure as he begins to slide his thick finger in and out of me, in and out.
He’s slow and easy at first, giving me time to adjust. I shudder at the intrusion, my muscles clenching involuntarily. When he presses deep against my inner walls, I give a weak moan. My focus narrows onto Rory’s gleaming blond head, the rest of the abandoned courtyard fading to blackness.
This pressure, of being stretched and feeling full, is too much. My heart thunders in my chest, my breath coming out in sharp pants. The world spins. I cry out but Rory ignores me. I yank at his hair like a crucial warning, but still he keeps me captured between the palms of his hands.
When his fingertip teases a secret place deep inside me, my breath vanishes and I clench around him, trapping him in position. When Rory’s mouth parts hungrily over my throbbing clit, distracting me, my knees almost buckle. I’m preoccupied enough trying not to topple that Rory is able to press in and out of my tightened hole again, and the moan that falls from my lips drips with obscenities as I realize how easily I’m tricked with pleasure.
The pressure inside me builds until on the verge of detonation, and I let out an animalistic yell. Rory leans back, looking irritatingly pleased with himself, before he laves my clit with his tongue in short, deliberate strokes.
I groan and try to pull away from him, but he holds me firmly against the stone. A few moments later, a new wave of pleasure crashes through me, turning everything hazy. As well as licking my needy clit and grinding his finger deep into my ass, Rory does something else. Something I hadn’t expected, not with the way my mind is spinning.
He brings his other hand toward my front and dips it, like a pen into an inkwell, into the molten heat of my cunt.
I’m almost sobbing. My teeth are gritted in desperation as he slides one finger, and then another, into the wet heat of me. Every nerve ending I have burns with holy fire. My body is taut and singing with angels. I push my hips into Rory’s hand, begging for unholy bliss.
“W-What are you doing?” I whisper, dazed, as I lock his penetrating fingers in two separate places. It seems insane that he should be performing multiple acts of destruction on my body at once, especially when there are others nearby who could have enjoyed being part of our union.
But the smug fucker only smiles, his eyes dark and wild with lust. He wants this, I realize, to know that he alone wields the most control over me. That he alone has the skill and determination to make me unravel within every area of my body without the need for anyone else.
He’s staked his claim, and it’s one of pure, pouting, posh-boy ego.
I’m charmed.
My climax approaches like distant drums. My movements are weak and jerky, one hand fumbling around my hips, another gripping Rory’s head and holding his cruel mouth into place at my clit, which he savages through snarling kisses. My body spasms. I have nowhere to turn. The finger in my backside rocks steadily in and out of me until I feel myself, with shaking legs, standing on tiptoes to escape the furious rush of sensation, only to find myself writhing against Rory’s waiting mouth. His fingers are hooked in my cunt, fishing for the space deep within my walls that spills messy liquid onto his skin.
My vision is blurry, the sounds around me distorted. Bells clang behind me, a warning, a celebration, and I come.
Deep, ancient pleasure rocks through every part of my core. It spreads like vines across my lower half, twisting and engulfing me, thorns ripping apart my skin and pricking me wide open. I don’t know how I come, whether by clit or cunt or ass — it seems like all three rolled into one, bigger than anything I’ve known, bigger than my body could hope to contain. And though the whole of me aches, my climax never ends. Rory continues to drain me greedily. His fingers clutch my cunt and spear my ass. He lets out a deep, filthy grunt as my hips bow to him in wonder, as he tongues my clit and chases every whimper like newfound treasure to hoard.
And then my legs give way beneath me and I collapse against the hard stone. I sink to the ground, my body still shaking uncontrollably.
It’s too much. It’s all too much, and I’m crying.
Rory comes to me, kneeling beside me. His kisses are soft on my face, his lips capturing my tears. We share the standing stone, which props us both up.
“Do you still hear it?” he asks, curious, as he examines the stone’s front behind him. His fingers shine, glossy with my release. I lick my lips, wiping the tears from my eyes.
“No.”
He gathers me into his arms, tracing my lips with his slick fingers. I gently suckle them, tasting myself. Rory bows his head and kisses me slowly. When his length digs into me, twitching hopefully, I stroke its straining head above the soft fabric and murmur, “Are you going to…?”
But Rory just says, “No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
