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“You like that?” He slaps me again, on the other cheek, then once more, before he shoves the crotch of my panties to the side and slams his way home.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I chant as I grapple at the sides of the table for purchase. He’s so huge I can feel him all the way down to my toes. “You’re too big for me!” I gasp.
“Yeah, baby,” he replies, once again flattening me with his weight, capturing my wrists, and stretching my arms along the mat. “I’m gonna use you up and then maybe, if you beg, I’ll let you come.”
The pressure in me is building, but his cock slamming into me isn’t enough to topple me.
I struggle out of his grip, but when I slide my hand towards my pussy, he yanks my arm behind my back. His breath is hot on my ear. “Beg, bitch,” he hisses.
“Please,” I whimper. “Please, Trigger, let me come.”
He doesn’t. He holds me steady, still forcing my arm up, brutally yanking on the bun in my hair, fucking me so hard, my thighs, hitting the top of the table, are screaming. “Oh god, Trigger.”
He seems to know that I’m at my breaking point, or maybe it’s my vulnerability, inability to fight back that tips him over the edge. He digs his fingers into my hips, slams into me once, twice, then grunts loudly as he freezes, then withdraws. “Fuck!” he snarls as hot semen spills down my thighs.
My body sags against the table as he steps back, but it’s a brief reprieve. I hear the zip of his fly as he tucks himself in, then his hands are on my waist. He flips me onto my back, then shoves my legs open and forward crushing them against me. “Take your tits out,” he commands.
I grapple with the bra, shoving it down so that my breasts pop out. My nipples, hard nuggets, strain towards him, begging him to suck them.
As I grip his huge biceps, he gives them what they want, taking one into his mouth, sucking with the same intensity he’s using on my pussy with his fingers as three of them slam into me, hammering in and out almost as brutal as his cock was a minute ago. His other hand finds my clit and grinds against it. The callouses feel like sandpaper against the sensitive button.
White fire streaks downward as he increases the suction on my nipple and upward as his fingers fuck me with no mercy. The two fireballs collide and explode into strikes of intense lightening that bolt through my body, turning it into a boneless bundle of smouldering coals. I scream as I buck my hips, then whimper as I come down from the best orgasm of my life.
Trigger drops my thighs as he slumps down on my body, then clutches my face with hands that smell like me, plundering my mouth with his tongue, mashing his lips against mine.
My fingernails dig into his back at his frenzied attack, and then something switches off, and his kisses gentle, his bruising grip on my cheeks become a cradle and his gaze softens. “You are…,” he breathes as he searches the depth of my eyes. “I don’t know. There aren’t enough words in the world that can begin to describe how amazing you are.”
I stroke his cheek and for once in my life, I grope for words. “I… you… us….”
“Yeah,” he replies with a soft smile. “Exactly.” He helps me up and my knees buckle but he catches me. He picks me up and walks over to a wall where he slides down until he’s on his ass, holding me on his lap.
I take a deep breath. “Was it good?” I stretch my neck back so I can see his face. He makes me this way, vulnerable, needy for reassurance. I don’t understand it, maybe don’t like it, but I need the validation.
“Fuck, baby. You’re the best.”
I crawl off his lap and slump next to him, splaying my legs out in front of me. “So are you.”
We mutely let the moment wash over us, then he says, “I’m not joking about us getting married, baby. I’m gonna buy you a giant diamond and we’re gonna have a wedding.”
I cuddle into him, splaying a hand on his muscled abdomen, laying my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat under his ear. “I will. I do. I want to get married to you too.”
He hugs me close, then reaches for my glasses. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.” He props them on his face and blinks down at me.
“Yes. Slightly myopic.”
“I love them.” His hot breath brushes the top of my head. “Love you.” It’s an uncomfortable admission, but I eat it up.
“I love you too, Trigger. So much it hurts.”
He chuckles. “You know I’ve never said those words to anyone before.”
I laugh, thankful he’s lightened the mood. “I haven’t either.” It’s not a lie. I’ve never been in love, never been told it either. Frankly, before Trigger, I never expected to hear the words. I swallow the tears forming in my throat as I think of who I am and realize until I met this man, this biker, I was never enough. Now, for the first time in my life, I feel complete.
There’s nothing more to say and yet so much to discuss. “I need a drink,” I tell him as I slowly climb to my feet. I feel his lovemaking everywhere. He’s marked me, owned me, made me his. I don’t need a diamond. Well, that’s not true. I need his diamond. I need him.
“I do too,” he says as he follows me upright. “Take me to your bar.”
My so-called bar is Wendy’s bottom drawer on the reception desk and I pour a couple of shots into specimen glasses as Trigger carries a reception chair around the desk and straddles it at the same time I sit in the office chair.
