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“I was talking to your pretty pink pussy, not you,” he growls.
Why is that so fucking hot?
A shiver runs up the length of my spine, the room echoing his words. I suck greedily on his fingers, running my tongue over, under, and between them—tasting myself. A deep rumble exudes from his chest, penetrating the charged air between us. His controlled thrusts stutter, morphing into something wild and carnal. Oh god, he feels so damn good. His cock pounds into me with unrelenting force, and fuck if I’m not gagging for every damn stroke.
“So. God. Damn. Perfect.”
The top of my head bounces off the mirror in front of me as he punctuates each word with vicious thrusts. Pain blooms and goosebumps flash across my sweaty skin, but I fucking love it. I match him thrust for thrust and revel in our mutual desire.
His bruising grip leaves my hip, hand snaking around the front of me to squeeze my breast. He pinches my nipple, alternating between flicking and plucking, and I cry out, biting down on the two fingers still shoved in my mouth. He grunts and thrusts deeper—a sharp burning pain spreads through my core, fire licking up my inner walls. I swear, I nearly crumble. In fact, if he wasn’t pinning me to the counter, I’m certain I would have.
The staccato beat of my pounding heart drums loudly in my ears, overtaking the low buzz from earlier. I can’t think. Can’t focus on anything but my building orgasm and the stranger behind me, shattering my world.
“Do you like it when I fuck you like this? Pinned against the counter, feeding your greedy cunt my cock. Wringing both pleasure and pain from you.”
When I don’t answer quickly enough, he slows his thrust to an infuriatingly languid pace, edging me. The tip of his cock rubs against a particularly sensitive spot on my inner walls and lightning blooms in my tunneling vision. I moan against his fingers, sucking on them like a lollipop. More. I need more.
As if reading my mind, he pops his fingers out of my mouth and wraps them around my throat, pulling me up so my back is flush with his muscular chest. Jesus, this man is crafted from hard stone and wet dreams—and here I am, speared on his massive dick. How the fuck did I get so lucky?
He catches my appreciative gaze in the mirror and smirks like he knows what I’m thinking. Hell, maybe he does.
“Do you want to watch me fuck you, little doe?” He pulls out of my wet heat, dragging his tip up and down the slit of my ass, spreading my arousal, before roughly thrusting in again. My back bows and a moan tears from my lips. The fingers creating a necklace around the base of my throat tighten. “I’ll let you … all you have to do is beg for it,” he whispers into my ear, licking the shell.
His voice is dripping with power and seduction, feeding the erotic thrill zinging through my veins. I whimper and push my hips back, afraid he’s going to pull out and leave me feeling empty and hollow again. His cock rubs along that sensitive spot once more and I gasp. Holy fuck.
Words tumble from my mouth, some coherent, others not. I’ll beg night and day if it means he’ll continue doing that, and I get to watch him pitch us over the edge into oblivion. It’s coming. I can see it in the strain lining his features. He’s barely holding on, and fuck if that doesn’t please me.
A dangerous glint flashes through his amber gaze. Releasing my battered breast he wraps a muscled arm around my middle and lifts me until my ass is pressed against his hips. My feet dangle uselessly as he holds me like his own personal fuck doll and pistons into me with hard, unyielding strokes. Black spots dance with the bolts of lightning in my waning vision and I release a string of colorful expletives, digging my nails into his arm to hold on.
A snarl tears from the giant’s throat and he bites down on my shoulder, sending me to the moon. My legs tremble uncontrollably from the electric fire of my impending orgasm. Too fast. Too soon. I want to scream the words; cry out for him to slow down, to wait, but my lungs seize up as the oxygen in the space around us thins. I can’t catch my breath and he won’t relent until he’s wrung every last bit of pleasure and pain from me.
“This pretty pussy is mine,” he releases my neck and growls, “It’s mine to use.” Thrust. “Mine to abuse.” Thrust. “Mine to feast on and mine to drain.”
His fingers find my clit and I choke on air, gasping, as he presses down, swirling with rough circles. A scream pierces the air, sharp and keening—whether from him or me, I don’t know. My toes curl and leg muscles lock in place as everything fades to black and I’m catapulted off the edge into an obsidian sky. His brutal strokes stutter and he roars his release, meeting me in oblivion.
Am I dead? I must be. I’m floating high above my body, unable to see or hear anything but the panting breaths of our shuddering bodies. A cool cloth rubs across my forehead bringing me back into the land of the living. I’m perched on the edge of the counter, leaning back with my head against the mirror and my legs spread wide. The tattooed giant stands between my thighs—a curious scowl mars his stupidly beautiful face.
Holy fuck, did I pass out? Jesus, what kind of magic does this man’s cock possess that my body and mind were so keyed up, they gave into the obsidian nothingness whispering to them?
“That was …” I lick my dry lips, unable to form a cohesive thought. My mind is an opposing maelstrom of bouncing kinetic energy and fuzziness, rendering speech impossible. There are no words to describe the blissfully brutal claiming that just took place. My lady bits are now and forever pledging their allegiance to this stranger and that is going to be a problem.
“Agreed,” he huffs, as if he’s aware of the turn my muddled thoughts have taken.
His scowl morphs into a smirk as wide as the Cheshire Cat’s, with double the conniving smugness. Bastard. He knows exactly what he’s done to me and by the looks of it, he’s damn proud.
There’s only one way to play this, Rumor. I tell myself. And it’s true. My body might yearn to be filled again and again by his goddamn third leg, but even with the state of my mind, I can appreciate this for what it is. A one and done deal.
He sinks to his haunches and uses a fresh warm paper towel to clean the inside of my thighs and lady bits. It’s unnerving how not-unnerving his actions are to me. I’ve never had a man clean me up after fucking the life out of me. Actually, I’ve never had a man fuck the life out of me, so maybe this is a normal thing? Who the fuck knows.
Silence envelopes us. It’s not heavy or awkward, but noticeable nonetheless. When he’s had his fill of cleaning me up, he slides me off the counter and cleans that too. It takes me less than a minute to tie my bikini back on and shimmy my dress over my head and down my body. The tattooed giant is still buck-fucking-naked, with his back to me, giving me the chance to really admire every inch of him. I was right about the tattoos. They span from his collarbone to his waist, wrapping around his broad shoulders and traveling down his muscular back. I swear they tell a story. There’s something almost sorrowful about the abstract lines and swashes moving together—I just can’t pinpoint what it is.
Turning around, he tugs off the condom, tying it closed and tossing it away. Thank fuck one of us was thinking clearly enough to remember that. My eyes travel over his toned torso and up to his face where our gazes collide. His mask of cool indifference is back in place and I have this insatiable itch to rile him up again, but fuck that. I’m exhausted.
I walk towards the exit, giving him ample room to get dressed. The metal door handle is cool against my heated palm and I pause my retreat—door still firmly closed in front of me—and peer over my shoulder. The high of our tryst has me on the cusp of floating in a satisfied dream-like state.
“Thanks,” I say with an exaggerated wink. And I mean it. That was the best sex I’ve ever had and now I’m ready for a nap.
I don’t catch his reply—not even sure he has one in the first place. The bathroom door latches behind me and I take a moment of solace to stretch my sore limbs, twisting side to side and reaching up high, wiggling my fingers and toes. Why does stretching feel so damn good? There’s got to be a scientific reason for it. A few ambled steps later and I’m back to my seat, having successfully avoided the other passengers. Their nosy stares just bounce right off the cloud I’m floating on, somewhere between nine and ten.
