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I cry out, my hands tightening in his hair and around the headboard again. I don’t stop riding his tongue, not until my release has passed. I sit back on his chest, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath.
“We’re doing that every fucking day,” he says, his mouth and chin glistening. “I need you to ride my face like that until I fucking die.” I huff out a laugh and grasp his face between my hands. I press my lips to his, trailing my tongue along them and tasting myself. “Ride my cock now. I’m about to fucking explode.”
I kiss him again, then slide down his body. My body still aches, and the bruises have turned an ugly yellow color, but he still stares at me like I’m beautiful. Like he sees past the tattoos, past my basic good looks, and sees me. Really seesme.
I hover my pussy above him, gently teasing his tip. He lifts his hips again, barely pressing against my entrance. I rest my hands on his chest and slowly guide him in, letting him stretch and fill me like no one ever has before. I slide down his cock until he’s fully inside me, and rock back and forth a few times, letting myself get used to his size.
“So close,” he rasps. “So fucking close.”
“I’m on the pill,” I say as I lift my hips and roughly slam back down. I moan at the hard thrust, and do it again, fucking myself harder on his cock. “Do you want to come inside me, Ez?”
“Fuck yes, I do,” he says, nodding frantically. My pussy contracts around him and he grits his teeth together, his jaw flexing under his light stubble. “Do that again.” I tighten around him again, and his eyes roll back.
My nails dig into his chest as I ride him, slamming myself down every time, knowing how hard he likes it—how hard I like it.
“Call me your whore,” I pant. His eyes are wild as he stares up at me, his body coiling tighter.
“You’re my fucking whore,” he sneers, baring his teeth. “My dirty fucking slut.” My eyes close as another orgasm crests. “Filthy bitch, riding my cock like that. It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? A warm little cocksleeve for me to fill with my cum?”
“God, yes,” I groan, fucking him faster. “More. Don’t stop, Ez.”
“Just a little fuckhole,” he says, panting through his teeth. “My little fucktoy. My needy whore.” I cry out as my orgasm hits me and I clamp around him. He fucks me from below, slamming his cock faster into me. “My fucking girl. Say it. Say I own you. Say you’re my property.”
My mouth opens, but all that comes out is a needy whine. My fingers dig into his pecs more, my orgasm still barreling through my body. Finally, he slams into me and stills.
“Fuck,Kennedy,” he groans my name, his eyes squeezed shut as he holds himself deep. His biceps bulge as he holds his coiled body up, keeping himself buried as he comes inside me.
Finally, he drops back to the bed, breathless. His eyes flutter open, and we stare at each other for a long moment, then I let out a breathy laugh.
“That was fun,” I say as I untie his wrists. He grunts his agreement and rolls his wrists a few times. I lay beside him and rest my head on his chest, sighing as he trails his fingertips lightly down my bare back.
“Why won’t you say it?” he whispers, his fingers never stopping. “You’re mine. You know you are. So why won’t you just say it?”
“Can we not talk about this right now?” I sigh. His hand flattens against my back when I try to pull away from him. He holds me tighter against his side, and I give in, relaxing back against him.
“Just tell me why,” he murmurs.
“I’m not ready,” I say honestly, and squeeze my eyes shut. “I really like you, Ez. And Ian—Ian thinks you walk on water. But I’m just not ready for that. Not yet.” His hand begins moving again, gently stroking in long soothing movements.
“Alright,” he says, and I pull back enough to look at him.
“Alright? That’s it?” I push my brows together, and he shrugs.
“You’re not ready,” he says. “It’s not off the table. But I know you’ll say it one day.” I search his eyes and find nothing mocking or insincere in his words.
“That’s very mature of you,” I say slowly, narrowing my eyes. He laughs again, his body shaking with it. His face softens as he tucks my hair behind my ear.
“I’ll wait,” he says softly. “For however long it takes for you to say it, I’ll wait, Kennedy.” He lifts my hand to his lips and gently kisses my palm, then closes my fingers over it, sealing the kiss in. “I’ll wait.”
Kennedy
Ahand slides into my hair, roughly fisting it. I grip the man’s wrist, my eyes pleading with him to stop, to let go.
He doesn’t.
The crunch echoes in my head, too loud and sickening. He slams my face into the wood again, his mocking laugh sending panic rushing through my chest.
“Ezra!” I scream his name like a prayer, my throat clogged with the gushing blood from my nose. “Kiwi!”
