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He lets go of my nipple, and his hand goes to my chin. With a finger under my chin, he raises my head until I look into his eyes. I see madness swirling around in them, along with anger and a touch of pain.
“I guess time will tell,” Kyson says, leaning in.
My gaze moves to his lips as they descend closer to mine. I think he is about to kiss me, and I’m not sure how I feel about that, considering he was just between my legs. But at the last minute, he doesn’t kiss me, and his mouth lands on the corner of my lips instead, where he softly says, “Safe word.”
“Madness,” I whisper.
He pulls back, and a devilish smirk appears on his lips.
“Fitting, I would say.”
And I agree.
His eyes trace over me, then he orders, “Get on the bed on your hands and knees.”
My husband was controlling in all aspects of my life. So, when Kyson tells me to do something, I want to fight it. I want to kick and scream and tell him to fuck off. But I don’t want to compare Kyson to my husband. The problem is it’s really hard not to, and getting out of my own head is even harder.
I need to keep reminding myself they are different people. And I should never assume things about people based on the actions of someone else.
With slow and deliberate steps, I walk to his bed. There are white sheets, perfectly crisp and flat, and a blue duvet which has been pulled back. His bed actually appears incredibly comfortable with a pillowy surface.
I glance over my shoulder when I slide my hands over the bedding to see he’s watching me with those dark, lustful eyes. He doesn’t make me feel self-conscious. In this particular moment, the way he is staring at me makes me feel anything but.
Looking away from him and taking a deep breath, I try to clear all thoughts from my mind because despite how we started out, I actually like where we are. This is crazy and baffling to me because these are not normal circumstances.
How did this even come about? Did he save me? Or am I to be his next victim?
I’m not really sure which is the correct answer, but I push the thoughts to the very back of my mind as I crawl onto this bed.
“Deep breath,” Kyson says as he comes closer. I feel him behind me even though he isn’t touching me yet, but now I’m fully exposed to him.
I hear movement, but I try to keep my eyes trained forward and flinch as he grips my lower hips, careful not to touch my back, and holds me in place. His mouth is between my legs, and his tongue is doing some crazy nonsense down there. I don’t even know what to make of it. It’s intense and hot and then fast. It’s sensory overload as I’m assaulted with every sensation. Before I know it, my back arches, and I throw my head back as I start to move my hips, basically humping his face. He doesn’t care, though. He pulls away, and I push back, but he merely blows hot air on me. I push back again, and he chuckles before his mouth is back at it.
Thank you, God.
“I don’t think God is who you intend to thank. Maybe you should be worshipping me,” Kyson says against my pussy.
Damn, I guess I said that aloud.
His words go in one ear and out the other because as soon as he’s done talking, his mouth is back against me, and I feel him slip a finger in, but he doesn’t put it where I thought he would.
His thumb circles the rim of my asshole before he pushes it in. At the same time, his tongue enters my pussy. My knees give out, and I face plant straight onto the bed, basically doing the splits as I fall. His fingers keep moving, never stopping until I come down from my pleasure high, as if he understands my body enough to know to keep finger fucking me until my body stops pulsing. I hear the crackle of a wrapper, and I check over my shoulder to watch him pulling a condom over his impressive length. I’m glad he thought of that because he did precisely what he intended to do—clear my mind—and all I can think now is, can he make me come again?
“I’ll be as gentle as I can,” he says.
I nod, but I don’t even know if he sees.
“Stay on your stomach so we don’t put pressure on your back.” Then his cock is at my entrance, and he meets my eyes before he slides into me and says, “Words. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I reply, as he caresses my ass with his hand, palming it before he smacks it playfully. When he sees my reaction, pushing back toward him, he smacks my ass even harder. I yelp, and he ever so slowly pulls out to the tip and then back in as if he’s savoring the moment. There is some discomfort as I adjust to his size, but, oh my God, it feels so good at the same time.
When he’s seated all the way inside me, he stops, and I suck in a breath.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he says on a groan.
I can’t form a reply.
I’m afraid to move.
