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I rip the hand off my throat and bend it behind her, pinning it with her other hand against the small of her back.
With my free hand, I flick her clit repeatedly. I’m far from gentle as my thumb jerks a wild rhythm on her flesh, but I want her to feel what I do to her.
I feel her muscles clench, the tide starting to rise inside her as she builds towards an orgasm. Her head falls forward and she buries her face into the crook of my neck, moaning something unintelligible.
“I want it.”
“N-no,” she stutters, head tossing from side to side in unadulterated pleasure.
I release her clit and she moans discontentedly. She arches her hips, searching for my touch, but I keep it out of reach. Frustrated mewls fall from her lips as she tries to get herself off on my cock.
“Try again.”
“Maybe,” she starts, pausing to catch her breath as she continues to ride me, “Maybe you give me yours. Depends how the rest of the night goes.”
I pinch her clit and she freezes mid-thrust. She struggles to free her hands, but I hold them tight against her back as waves of pleasure rake through her. She rides them out, screaming her release and tumbling against me, spent.
She lays on my chest, trying to catch her breath. Wrapping an arm around her to keep her from falling off me, I lean over and reach for the pen and notepad on the nearby side table. I scribble something and tap it with my pen to get her attention.
“This is my number. I’ve given you more than enough reason to take it,” I say, arrogance shining in my voice, “but let me continue to prove myself just in case.”
With that, I lay back down so my shoulders rest on the edge of the bed. My hips hang off the side in a bridge position, my legs planted on the floor. She’s sitting on me with my hard dick still inside her. I pull my hips back, this angle not limiting my range of motion or the depth of my thrusts into her pussy, and power back inside her.
She yelps, not ready and almost toppling right off me, but I clutch her hip and keep her firmly seated on my cock. I don’t give her a chance to get adjusted before I start drilling into her at a maddening pace.
I grab her throat and hold her there as I pump furiously inside her, making her bounce and her teeth rattle with every thrust. Her nails claw at my chest as they desperately search for purchase, but I don’t give her any breaks.
With my other hand, I gather her hair in a ponytail and fist it. I tug on it and keep it taught, forcing her spine to arch backwards away from me. She’s prone and trapped in this position and I have my way with her as I pump madly into her tight pussy from below.
Faster than I’d like, I feel my shoulders bunch and my stomach muscles clench as a torrent of pleasure shoots straight to my cock. I have time to thrust only a couple more times before I come with a roar, my seed spilling into the condom.
I catch her when she falls and hoist us both back fully onto the mattress. Only once I have her comfortably settled on the bed do I pull out of her.
She whimpers and my cock twitches like he’s been called. Her disappointment at losing my dick from between her legs calls to some primal part of me that makes me want to mark her.
I dispose of the condom, clean her and myself up, and go back over to the bed. She’s asleep exactly as I left her. On her stomach, legs spread akimbo, her arms on either side of her face. She’s turned on her left cheek and facing away from me, her disheveled hair flung around her.
In sleep, her face loses the sadness hidden behind her eyes.
She looks beautiful.
I grab the sheet and pull it over her hips, getting in beside her. I lay on my back and rest my head on my bent elbow, looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling.
There’s something about her wistfulness that draws me to her. I want to know more, to understand if there really are shadows plaguing her or if I’m just imagining things.
“If you were given one wish, what would you ask for?”
I turn my face towards her and find her still laying with her eyes closed, looking like she’s dozing. I thought she was dead asleep. She sounds exhausted, her voice small when she speaks.
This close, I can make out a dusting of tiny beauty marks across her nose. I hadn’t noticed them before. There’s five of them spread like a constellation across the bridge of her nose with one resting just off center of the tip.
I think about her question, about whether to give a real or bullshit answer and I ask her as much.
“Real,” she whispers, “Always real.”
I think about it for a while, about how to articulate my greatest wish.
“Freedom.”
