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He came up and cupped my cheek. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Shaking my head, I said, “I don’t know.”
“We both know you have a greedy pussy, so that’s not the problem. You think you should be in control, but it’s not what you want. Stop overthinking things, Clara. It’s not what gets you off. Let me take over, okay?” he suggested in a soothing voice.
I nodded in relief, feeling a weight slide off my shoulders.
“It’s a process, baby. Acceptance of your nature takes time,” he said tenderly. “Just follow what feels good, without judgment, alright.”
I nodded at him reflexively again.
He patted my hip and I pulled off him.
He was back in the driver’s seat, and everything felt right. Nervous expectation thrummed through me. Standing in front of him, I asked expectantly, “What are you going to do?”
“Mmm, I’m going to put you on your hands and knees for starters,” he revealed, doing just that. Nudging my legs wider, he stepped up to me and rubbed his cock up and down my opening.
“Good girl, see how much better this feels?”
My heart fluttered at his praise. Relaxing under his guidance, I arched my spine and threw my head back. “God, that feels so good.”
He stabilized one hand on my hip, the other on my lower back. He pressed his mouth to my ear, and said, “Your cunt is still so tight, you can’t take me on your own yet. I do love that you’re so greedy you can’t help but try and force your snug little hole down my big, thick cock. I love watching you get frustrated trying to take it whole, but this is how it’s done, baby.”
With that warning, he buried himself in one demanding stroke.
I let out a screech, my skin flashing white-hot as he pounded into me, driving out every doubt or thought from my head. I reveled in the way he filled me, not a millimeter to spare. I swore I could feel the veins of his shaft rubbing against my inner walls.
“Look how your wet cunt stretches around my cock. I own this pussy. Say it, Clara,” he ordered darkly.
I pushed back onto his cock; the path made smooth by my juices. “Tatum. Tatum owns this pussy,” I shouted.
“That’s right, and I’m going to fill this tight, slutty pussy with my come. You’ll be so full, you’ll be spurting and squelching out come for days. I’m going to breed you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
His teeth marked me again, clenching down on the same spot where my neck met my shoulder. Teeth hanging onto me, fingers clenched around my hips, he tunneled in and out of me. I didn’t think I’d ever get over the feeling of being impaled by him. Claimed. Taken. Possessed. And with that final thought, as he plowed into me with ruthless thrusts, I exploded.
I scrambled for purchase and scratched deep gouges in the pristine white leather of his couch. Flashes of light hit my retinas. Words may have spilled out, maybe even a shriek, but I couldn’t hear them over the roar in my ears. My cheek landed on leather. I twitched as my orgasm quaked through my limp muscles.
This was what I’d needed. Vestiges of reality came drifting back into my consciousness. I was pinioned by his huge cock, my knees and palms pressing into the fibers of the carpet. His face was buried in my shoulder, his fingers clamped around my flesh, his rough hair rubbed against my pussy, and his come flooded me. He heaved a shudder behind me.
Right or wrong no longer mattered. Tatum spanked me to dislodge the fears and worries tied around my throat like a noose. He gave me the freedom to test my boundaries, and once I fell on my face, he was right there to pick me up and fuck me into oblivion. I was like one of Adrian’s finicky violins, but he played me like a maestro, indulging in the slight quirks that gave it its unique sound.
Seriously, after being petted and pampered and fucked in this way, I didn’t know if I could live without him. Hopefully, that day would never come.
