That I liked it too was irksome and problematic.
He pushed his finger along my entrance and left it there a moment, sliding it, pushing on me but not quite inside, teasing. “I could fucking swim in this cunt.”
I stayed quiet, mortified in a way, making myself not react, even as my pussy spasmed inward and my psychotic libido begged me to hump that finger.
I yearned to be done with him, wanted entire oceans and continents between us. On the other hand, life was going to be pale and lifeless minus Isak.
It would also lack blood, pain, and murder.
The throb of those strikes still radiated outward, morphing and lingering in that pleasing sexual way.
He didn’t need to say my pussy was wetter than before he had whipped my butt. I knew. There was a squish at the crease of my thighs when I shifted from side to side.
I clasped my bound hands together and huffed into the metal slats, prayed he would do nothing more sadistic because I really, really needed dick right now. My clit was pebble-like, a hot and aching nub. Subtly, I ground at the table.
Fuck him for making me want.
The unzip of his pants and removal of them was obvious, as was the sound of him stepping in. The switch he’d used landed to the right on the tabletop, a wicked thing with those tiny bumps where twiglets had once been. I’d had worse. I was so aroused, all I could do was wonder what he intended next.
Fucking me, surely? Please.
I felt his palm move over my stinging ass. Not fucking. Not quite yet.
I whined in frustration as he kissed me there, with his tongue leaving warm, wet trails and his hands leaving tingles of desire. A few times his fingers slipped near either pussy or asshole, and I sucked in a breath, anticipating the invasion.
But no. Still not yet.
He bit me, sharply, enough to make me jump at the pain.
His teeth hung on before releasing the flesh, and I felt the shift of his body over me, the press of him on my back and tied hands. He licked my fingers, nibbled them, which made me swear through the panties where they stretched across my mouth. The cloth of those was already disgustingly wet and unpleasant against my tongue.
I gargled my annoyance at him, but he only laughed, then finally, finally, I felt the push of his cock, as he introduced it to my entrance. By the smallest of increments he fucked me.
I gargle-swore some more, possibly wept my frustration.
He would know, being a mesmer. He’d know how desperate I was for this. How needy.
He thrust in.
He shoved and parted my flesh like the spear of a god. It was mind-blinding, a sea washing in and drowning me. Sound and sight resolved down to being nothing more than this, us, seeking each other, him taking me. Impaled.
The possession of a man never failed to fuck with both mind and body. I heard the incoherence of my noises, all my gasps and squeals, and couldn’t stop myself, and did not want to.
The stretch and the rhythmic ram and withdrawal. The grunt of him at the bigger thrusts.
He stopped, breath against my ear, my neck. His bites and kisses. The hand shoved into my hair. The digging fingers at my ass and hips while he waited, fully deep, appreciating his act and my submission to it. I twisted my hands, thrilled at the bondage, at my helplessness.
He was not silent as he was before, at other times, in other years.
These were words I never thought to hear from Isak.
“Beautiful. So beautiful.” Followed by a groan and the run of fingers down my spine.
“Christ, being inside you,” spoken as he thumped into me, hard.
And shorter cryptic ones, such as, “Why did I never—”
Unwilling to understand all of his meaning, for now I chose to accept his war on me, his dominating, sweat-slippery, aching war on and in my body. The slaps, the bites, the throbbing pains. Accept, accept, because these acts were mine too. He took me to orgasm, made me fly and splutter choking, joyous gasps as I shuddered in his bonds and arms.
While I was limp and barely able to move, he untied me and sat on the table with me in his lap. I panted for air. I couldn’t tell if the traffic passing might see us. By then I didn’t care.
Coaxing me to desire again was a simple matter for him, with his powers and his mouth and fingers on me, in me, slipping cock inside me as he toyed with clit, and tongued and kissed my mouth, my breasts.
I shuddered and clawed at his back, his biceps, anywhere I could grasp.
Willing him utter control over my body, I sighed and whimpered at his touch. Such a perverse and perfect seduction of my body. His fingers went places as I bucked and locked my hands in his hair. He’d never let me do that to him… not before this.
He laid me on my back, eyes fervent as he slowly penetrated me again. My legs were spread wide of my own doing, my hands were at his shoulders and waist and ass, as I tried to pull him inside me.
The last of it, his climax and the momentous swell of come within… I was left open-mouthed and riveted by his look of snarling exultance. After the last twitch of him inside, with the last drop ejaculated, I expected him to pull out and leave me there, sated, messed-up, and exhausted. Instead, with dusk creeping upon us and the table cooling beneath our skin, he stayed with me, all tangled limbs and dwindling
