I nod. “But I also like when…”
He grazes his nose against mine. “I know.”
I keep looking into his eyes and ask, “What is that? Why do I feel like that? That I want to be your good girl but I also want to be your whore. I want you to kiss me and pour all your air into my lungs but also, wrap your hands around my throat and squeeze really hard so that I can’t breathe. Why do I lose all my will around you? Why does it feel like I’m…”
Intensity swirls in his eyes as he whispers, “You’re what?”
“I’m more yours than I am mine. That you own me.”
That I love you so much I’ll live forever but also die this instant.
Of course, I don’t say that, and I’ll never say that because it’ll only freak him out and make him think he hurt me when it’s my choice to be doing this. But this is the closest I’ll ever come to telling him. And since we’re doing this the right way, I might as well do it my way too.
And the moment only becomes sweeter, so much sweeter when he whispers, “Because you ownme.”
And I’m so overcome by emotion that I move my face to the side and catch his thumb in my mouth. I suck on it and lick the blood off his skin. It’s dried now but not too much that I can’t taste him or get the hint of metal on my tongue, making me even hornier. This, too, brings everything full circle because he drank my virgin blood two nights ago and I’m drinking the blood he shed for me because of that. Which he understands, because his chest moves with a large breath and his dick lurches against my stomach before he descends on my mouth again.
After that, he proceeds to do everything the right way.
He proceeds to prepare me for his invasion with deep, scorching kisses and wandering hands. He takes off my nightie so gently that it feels like a dream. He pushes my panties down so tenderly that it feels like I’m walking on clouds. And then, he traces his tongue along the column of my neck. He sucks on my skin, nips it, places both feathery and hard kisses along my collarbone before moving down and putting his mouth on my breasts.
I don’t have big breasts or anything like that, but he plays with them so that he makes me feel like they’re the perfect size for him. He plumps them up with his hands, grabs them, gropes them. Pulls at my nipples, rolls them between his fingers. Then he does all of that with his mouth, with his tongue and his teeth mixed in, and I’m a slippery, trembling mess.
I only get worse when he pays the same attention to my ribs and my belly. To my silver hoop that I still haven’t taken off from that night weeks and weeks ago. He’s only ever played with it with his fingers, but tonight, he flicks it with his tongue, and it feels like he’s licking me down there. He tugs it with his teeth and it feels like he’s tugging my clit. And when he sucks on it, it feels like I’m going to come. It could also be the fact that I’m rocking my hips due to his ministrations. I’m arching my backand digging my heels in. I’m rubbing my dripping, swollen pussy along his sculpted chest.
Whatever it is, I’m soon reduced to a trembling, orgasmic mess—my go-to when it comes to him and all the things he does to me—and by the time he enters my pussy, I want him so badly that I hardly feel it. Or if I do feel it, I don’t mind as much. I don’t mind the stretch, the burn. I don’t mind the sheer heft of his dick as it slowly,very slowly, makes its way inside of me, making me feel he’s in my stomach.
I say, looking up at him, “Y-you’re… I feel you in my tummy.”
He stares down, his brows sweaty, his whole body sweaty and taut between my thighs. “Wait for it.”
I dig my nails in his biceps, confused. “What?”
He doesn’t answer me for long seconds, his hips working over my body in shallow thrusts as I rock back against him. And then, he clenches his jaw, and I feel his hips jerking hard. At which point, I realize I don’t need him to answer me any longer because I already understand. He wasn’t in my tummy before, but he is now. Or at least it feels like it, because he’s finally all the way inside of me and I have to arch my back even deeper to accommodate him. I have to claw at his arms, bite my lip and clench my eyes shut. To make space for him inside my body.
And even then, it’s hard. Even then it feels like he’s plundering and pillaging, wrecking my insides. I guess I spoke too quickly, huh? About not minding the stretch and the burn. I guess I hadn’t felt the full extent of it just yet. But then in all of this, I forgot one thing. I forgot the best weapon in his arsenal, the best balm that only he can give me.
His hand around my throat.
And his words in my ears, calling me his good girl, as he starts moving inside of me. Telling me how well I’m doing as he goes in and out. Slowly but surely. He tells me I’m doing even better than the other night. That my pussy opened right up forhim and feels so good and hot and wet around his dick as he pumps and pumps.
He tells me only good girls like me have such a slutty pussy. That juices up so good for their man. Only good girls like me open their thighs so wide that I may as well be doing splits for him, giving him full access to use me. Only I know how much to arch my back so he goes all the way in before sliding all the way out, and only I know how hard to claw his skin so I draw blood.
“Because you’re the only girl I’ll ever bleed for, baby,” he whispers against my mouth. “You’re the only girl I’ll ever kneel on broken glass for. Or lick a leather boot for. You’re the only girl I’ll ever be hungry like a fucking dog for.”
“Shepard, I…”
I come before I get to warn him about it. About my orgasm and how hard my pussy is going to clench around his length. So much so that he goes over the edge only a few seconds later. And it’s such a steep drop that he falls on my body, his hard chest pressing into my breasts and sensitive nipples, his pointy abs stabbing into my soft belly. And despite not being able to breathe, I wind my limbs around him. I wind my arms around his neck and my thighs around his waist, crossing my ankles at his back, feeling his haphazard jerks.
Despite not being able to have much of a conscious thought, I still tilt my neck to the side in invitation. And he takes it and sinks his teeth into my flesh, giving me a necklace made of bruises just as he gave me his cum.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I openmy eyes to the sun streaming through the window.
Strong sun too. Meaning, it’s late in the day. But that’s not what wakes me up. It’s something else. A bevy of sensations, some familiar but some strange, including one very bizarre one. A pointed something—a tip?—soft and light, running across my skin. On the side of my waist, precisely. I frown into the pillow.
Quickly, I catalog everything. I’m lying in bed, on my tummy, my cheek is pressed into the pillow, my face turned toward the window. I can see the sky through the glass, sunny and clear. But most of my attention is taken up by the fact that I can feel the sheets on my skin.
