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“Fuck me. Please.”
“Are you begging?”
“Yes!”
He slammed into me, burying his cock and taking my breath away. He
growled, pushing deeper, then pumped his hips against me. My leg bobbed
over his shoulder next to his face, which was fierce with lust and an
expression that entered me deeper than his dick.
“This what you wanted?” he asked, pushing me against the mattress,
twisting me like an object.
“More.”
He pushed against my clit with his fist, rubbing the hard knuckles along
my swollen nub. He was cruel and careless with my body, and I loved it,
winding with pleasure until I was on my hands and knees and he drove me
from behind, spreading my cheeks open so he could get even deeper. I
grunted as if he’d pushed all the air out of me.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Don’t stop.”
He wrapped his arm around me, flicking my clit with the tips of his
fingers. With every stroke, he slapped away the barrier between the waiting
orgasm and me.
“Make me feel how hard you come,” he said. “Give it to me.”
I wanted it deeper. Faster. Harder. But words wouldn’t form, only a
blanket of insensate blackness that sent me out of myself where I heard
myself cry out, saw the bursts of orange behind eyes shut tight, and felt his
fingers as if they were doing their cruelly pleasing job on someone else’s
body. Over and over, on an undulating wave of overwhelming sensation, I
came with him until his name on my lips fell into sighs.
“I don’t know if I can take six more months of that,” I said when he
rolled off me and I could form a coherent thought.
“You’re taking it for six more months.”
“I might die before you buy a single share of Papillion.”
He got on his side and turned my face to his. “I’m putting it in the
contract,” he said with a kiss. “I know you. You’ll live just to see the end of
it.”
He thought he knew me. Funny thing to think when I wasn’t sure I even
knew myself. He touched my jaw and cheeks with frightening tenderness,
appreciating every bone in my face. A minute ago, I’d begged him to break