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She clamps down like I knew she would.
When she suggested anal to me yesterday, she made it sound like it was the most preposterous, outrageous, outlandish thing I could want to do with her. I figured she hadn’t done it yet. I’m not that much into anal. I’m not against it either, a hole is a hole. But dry asses can be dirty, and uncomfortable. The fact that I have to lubricate it rather than counting on the body’s natural moisture has always made it a second choice for me, something I only think about when it’s offered or requested.
But I know that as an anal virgin, she is not going to enjoy it as much as a fucking in her soaked pussy. It’s going to be tight and uncomfortable, especially because she doesn’t know how to relax it. And that’s exactly what she deserves, if she won’t speak to me.
I’m not asking for the fucking moon. Just a “hey, Marius, I kinda like you, would you make me come please?” It’s not that hard.
I inch forward and her asshole tightens, those firm muscles squeezing to form a barrier I ignore, barreling through. Two inches in, one inch back, two inches again…
Finally, I’m past the initial ring of muscle, and with a smirk, I shove inside in one go, no matter what her body dictates.
Then I fuck her. I fuck her hard, fast, not trying to delay my release.
Holy fucking shit, I take it back. Every single thought I’ve ever had about anal. Her tight ass is massaging my dick, squeezing it but also bubbling all around it. My eyes roll as I grunt, unable to control myself. I let go of her arms, incapable of focusing enough to hold her. By now, she’s screaming into her pillow, sobbing, but still not saying what we both know.
I growl as I come inside her, still thrusting in and out. Ican’t stop myself.
Panting, through glazed eyes, I finally let go of her leg, and ask. “Why can’t you just say you want me, Sarah?”
I get her reluctance. I understand her history. I understandourhistory. But it shouldn’t be this hard. I’m not a monster, am I? I’m attractive, she’s attracted to me. She wants me. That photo proves it. So why can’t she just…tell me?
She looks up to me, dazed and confused, like she doesn’t quite understand the question.
Or rather, she doesn’t get why I’m asking it. Why I care.
It’s fucking frustrating, but I choseher, and she still has ghosts, trauma, damage.
I thought that tonight, I could slay one of her demons and bring her his head on a metaphorical platter. Not a literal one. I don’t think she’d appreciate an actual head. She’s not Dez. But I can’t tell her I took care of Brandon, so she still has as many issues as she did yesterday.
Defeated, I withdraw from her body and make my way to her shower, taking my toys with me.
I don’t know how long I stay under the hot jets.
Maybe I should give her tonight. Return to the Shark House, give her the space she clearly need. I’ve barreled through, unrelenting, because I’m Marius Goltz. I don’t have experience with her kind—damaged girls who have been hurt too many times.
I’m convinced I should just pack up and go by the time I get out of the shower. But I see her small frame curled up in bed, and I can’t. I just can’t.
So I slide under the covers and go to sleep, feeling her heart beat too fast for her to be asleep.
I draw her to me and close my eyes, listening as it calms down, and finally, she loosens up, taken by oblivion.
74
SARAH
I’m fairly certain I’m walking like a penguin. Between having two cocks in my pussy and one ramming into my ass, I’m in pieces. Still, I go to school, however long it takes me to drag my tender everything down the stairs.
I glare at Marius every step of the way, but that only serves to increase his self-satisfaction.
“I’m never letting you fuck me again,” I grumble, struggling to climb up my stool on the breakfast bar.
“Let me, she says,” he laughs, passing the basket of croissants to me.
The buttery softness does contribute to mellowing my mood, but I don’t let it show.
“We do fresh croissants?” I marvel.
Rhys nods. “Uncle Adrian’s in town, which means his cooks are, too. Apparently, baking a couple of croissants is a waste—they’d much rather do a couple dozen. So, we get leftovers.”
