She licks her lips as I grip my cock, stroking hard to alleviate the ache. I picture her mouth wrapped around me, and I know she is, too. The problem is, I’m not sure she could handle the way I need it done.
Seconds tick by. She sits there, motionless, watching my heavy shaft drip with need, waiting for me to make a decision. “This what you want?” I ask, needing her to be sure. “I’m not gentle, and you can’t touch me.”
As much as I don’t want her to know how fucked up I am, I know she’s pieced something together. I saw it in her eyes earlier at the salon.
“Don’t start treating me like I’m breakable now,” she smirks.
Resolve, or maybe it’s surrender, washes over me as I step into the tub, standing over her. She starts to get on her knees, but I stop her. “Stay there. Put your hands under you and open your mouth.”
My knees shake as I twist my fingers through her damp strands. Jerking her head back, I force her to look at me. “Breathe through your nose and keep your eyes on me.” She nods, eyes wide and mouth wider. And the need to kiss her first slams into me like a freight train. Her head is yanked back further, and I capture her mouth with mine. Her eyes are glazed when I pull back. “It’s going to look like I really disrespect you. Just remember, that couldn’t be further from the truth.”
Taking my dripping cock in my hand, I push it between her lips, forcing the head to rub against the roof of her mouth several times. My head falls back with a groan because fuck it feels good. “Wrap your lips around me,” I demand. “And remember, breathe through your nose.” When she does as instructed, my fingers tighten in her silky locks, and I slam myselfinto her mouth, not stopping until I hit the back of her throat. Then I do it again, fucking her mouth as hard as I do her tight cunt, showing no mercy as tears roll down her cheeks. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” I grunt as I force myself down her throat as far as I can until she gags around me, the feeling of her muscles contracting driving me insane. “You look so pretty, choking on my cock, baby. And those tears, they make your eyes shimmer like diamonds. I bet your pussy is wet as fuck, isn’t it?” She whimpers with a slight nod as I pump in and out of her mouth, and the vibrations make my knees weak. “Fuuuccckkk. Do that again.” She does, making my balls draw up, and my spine tingles. “Goooodddd. Fuck.”
I pull out of her mouth just as I explode, spurting cum all over her face. When my racing heart settles, I kneel in the water, straddling her hips without putting my weight on her. I lean over, licking myself from her skin, then bring my mouth to hers. My hand slides between her legs, a finger dipping inside as I twist my tongue around hers. “Damn, you are wet,” I murmur as I pump in and out of her slick core. “Let’s see what I can do about that.” After I adjust our position, hooking her legs over the side of the tub and nestling my big body between her flexible one, I reach behind me, grabbing the detachable shower head, and turn on the water.
She jumps with a yelp when the water meets her clit. Her head falls back, spine arching while my fingers curl upward, stroking, beckoning her climax. In seconds, she shatters, clenching and spasming around my fingers with a scream. Her mouth stays open, panting. Her body thrashes as the water continues to pulse against her needy pussy. “Too much.” My middle and ring finger continue to pet her G-spot. Her head shakes back and forth, more tears falling down her face. “Too much.”
Another piercing climax echoes off the tiled walls. Her eyes plead with me to stop, to end her pleasurable torture, so I shut the water off, pulling her into my arms. She nestles herself against my chest, wrapping her arms around me, breaking my rules about touch. Although, for now, sex is over, so the rule doesn’t apply anymore.
She’s the first woman I’veallowedto touch me when I’m undressed in years. Habit and fear have held me back, kept me from allowing it when we have sex, even though I love the way her hands feel on me. I have from the beginning. They feel like safety I didn’t know existed.
And I find myself wishing I’d never stopped her at all.
“What are you thinking?” she murmurs in my neck.
“You don’t want to know, Halfpint.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“I’m thinking I want to keep you.” I’m thinking more than that, but she can’t handle that yet. It’s too much, too fast, too soon, and too wrong. All the arguments she’s given are true.
Just like I knew she would, her body tenses for a moment. Her arms unwind from around my neck, making my fingers flex against her hip, but I don’t hold her here.
I’ve wanted to feel wanted for as long as I can remember. Not an inconvenience. Not a toy to use and abuse. But truly wanted because they saw me, and loved me for who I am, without exception or expectation.
That’s why, as much as I want to, I won’t force her to stay.
I also know what it’s like to have your will stripped away. No matter what insane ideas bounce around in my brain, I won’t do that to her.
I pick up the invisible bricks that have crumbled around my heart and slowly start rebuilding my walls. I push away all emotion, hardening myself for what’s coming.
“Jagger.” My lids peel back, my mind prepared. She turns until she’s straddling me, my dick dangerously close to her pussy. Pain erupts in my jaw as her thumb burns across my bottom lip.
She doesn’t speak right away. Her thumb traces my lip, and her eyes hold mine like they’re searching for something. My pulse slows, my lungs freeze.
Then she obliterates me with three words.
Poppy
“Jagger,” his name whispers past my lips, pleading for him to open his eyes. Agony rips through my chest at the pain and acceptance in the pale green eyes, hating with every fiber of my being that he’s so wrecked, not knowing why, apart from a few things I have pieced together. It’s impossible to look at without feeling every bleeding cut yourself.
I drop my eyes, tracing the ink that covers his body. So much physical pain he’s endured to shut out the mental anguish. The intricate artwork is a testament to his hurt, with skulls screaming out in misery, demons taunting his heartbreak.
He fuels his torment with anger and hides it behind smiles. Nothing about him is as it seems. Yet, everything is right there, his heart on his sleeve, if only someone would look. If someone would take it.
His jaw ticks, and I can see every part of the wall that’s crumbled at my feet being reconstructed, piece by piece.
He’s complex, complicated, and everything I don’t need in my life. I’m not what he needs, either. We’ve been through a lot in our short lives, me fighting to make the best of mine while he refuses to deal with his. It’s not fair and is a recipe for a fucked up relationship built on trauma.
