The Black Room: Door Eight

by Jasinda Wilder

  “Shit, Hannah…” you gasp, and your voice is deeper, rougher than it used to be— “why was it never like this before?”

  Because this isn’t real.

  You never fucked me like that, never ate my pussy, never pushed me to orgasm, certainly never fucked me from behind, never gushed cum onto the outspread roundness of my ass as I knelt on all fours in front of you.

  You never fucked me like that.

  That wasn’t you—

  …

  “Conrad?” My voice is querulous, echoing in the dark.

  No answer.

  “Conrad?”

  I can’t see, can’t see, can’t see. The darkness is all pervading. All-consuming. It’s a drowning kind of dark. I’m bathed in utter blackness. Reaching out, I find nothing.

  “Conrad!” A sob breaks my voice, then. “Conrad…please. Where are you?”

  Alone.

  I’m alone.

  Alone in the dark. I’ve been alone in the darkness for so long, so fucking long. I hate the darkness, hate the aching loneliness.

  “Hannah?” His voice is close, beside my ear, his breath warm on the shell of my ear. “I’m here, Hannah.”

  I reach for him, but I have no limbs. Or if I do, they’re too heavy. Trapped in sludge, frozen in place. No way to reach, to find, to touch. He’s there, I feel him, hear him, sense him, but I can’t reach him. I can’t feel myself, my body; I’m stuck, trapped, and I can’t see.

  “Conrad?” My voice echoes.

  Conrad?

  conradconradconrad

  No…no, no.

  He can’t hear me. Am I speaking? Am I here?

  “Hannah, I—fuck, I hate that it took this for me to finally own up to how I feel about you. I hate seeing you like this, hate talking to you like this, but they say you can hear me. I don’t know. It’s so fucking hard, baby. Being here, it’s—it’s hell. I just want you to—”

  What? Anything you want, Conrad, anything—I’ll do it. Anything. Just tell me, so I can make the sadness in your voice go away, so I can make the pain go away.

  “—Wake up, Hannah.” His voice echoes, now.

  wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup

  Wake up.

  Wake up, Hannah.

  ….

  I’m in the living darkness, the hungry black.

  I feel myself, feel the prickling of the hairs on my arms, the smooth slide of my legs brushing each other, the way my breasts are pulled by gravity as I lay on my side. My hair is splayed out. My heart beats steadily, rhythmically.

  I sense him.

  “Conrad?”

  “Yeah, babe.” He’s beside me, suddenly, his body warm and huge and hard and naked.

  “Hi.”

  I hear the smile in his voice. “Hi, sexy thing.”

  “You think I’m sexy?” I ask.

  “Fishing for compliments, Miss Tavistock?”

  “Why, yes, I am, Mr. Killian.”

  He levers himself over me, his proximity palpable even though I can’t see him, or anything at all. I don’t need to see, only feel. His breath is on my cheek, and then I feel his knees wedge between my thighs. I feel his hands brace above my shoulders, beside my face. Then his lips touch mine, and his tongue slides along my lips.

  “Hannah, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. You make me crazy, you’re so goddamn beautiful. I just— I can’t fucking stand how much I want you all the time. I think about you whenever I’m not with you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you think about?”

  His lips touch the peak of my left breast and then the right. “This. And this.”

  “Oh?” I barely manage to squeak the word out, because his kiss leaves me breathless. “What else?”

  “What else do I think about?” he slides down my body, his palms cupping my tits, squeezing, kneading, massaging. His lips stutter and slip over my belly, kissing, kissing, and then brush the seam of my pussy. “This. I think about this a lot.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Nonstop.” He licks the slit, breathing on the wetness. “Literally, all the fucking time. I think about licking you and kissing you here. Sliding my fingers inside.” He suits action to words, pushing two long, thick digits inside me. “Feeling how wet you get for me.”

  He withdraws his fingers, and smears them over my clit; his fingers are soaked in my juices.

  “Anything else you think about?”

  “Hannah, babe…I think some pretty dirty things about you. Sometimes, when I’m at home alone, I think about you, and I imagine all the things I’d like to do to you.”

  “Just…think…about doing them?”

  He laughs, a low erotic grumble. “No, Hannah, I don’t just think about them. I picture you, just like this, naked, and I think about what I’d like to do, and I imagine myself doing it to you, and I jerk off.”

  “You jerk off thinking about me?”

  “Fuck, yeah. Do you?”

  “I touch my pussy and pretend it’s you.” He dips his fingers inside me, pulls them out, touches my clit, alternating in that way that I love so much, that makes me so fucking hot and wet and horny. “Just like you’re doing.”

  “God, that’s hot, thinking about you making yourself come, thinking about me.”

  “What do you picture yourself doing to me, Conrad?”

  “Everything.”

  “Tell me. Tell me everything. I want to know. I want—oh, oh god—I want to do it all with you.” He has me on the edge already, within seconds.

  “Everything?”

  “Everything.”

  He stops when I’m a heartbeat away from coming. “God, where do I even start? I think about this, making you come. I think about the way your eyes close and your mouth falls open, and your thighs shake, and you can’t be still, and the way you moan my name.” He touches my clit, and I jerk, the orgasm teetering, wobbling, about to topple through me. “I think about the way your pussy tastes.” His mouth covers my cunt, his tongue sliding up my slit and dipping in, then flattening against my clit, and I can’t stop it, can’t hold it back. I come with a scream, and he moans as he tongues me through the climax. “This, Hannah. I think about this, all the damn time. You, coming for me.”

  “God, Conrad. I don’t know how you can make me come so hard, so fast.”

  “Because I know your body. It was made for me.”

  “Do you think about me doing things to you?”

  “Fuck yeah, I do.”

  I roll toward him, push him to his back. “Like what?”

  He brushes his fingers through my hair, rubs my cheekbone with his thumb, and brushes the pad of that thumb over my lips. “I imagine you putting this mouth on my cock.”

  I slide down his body and cradle his massive, throbbing erection in my hand. I cup his balls, and then stroke up the shaft to slide my fist around him and then pull it away from his belly until it’s standing perpendicular to his torso and can’t bend any further. I stroke my other hand down all those long, thick inches. He groans as I let my hair drift over his belly. He gathers the sheaf of my hair in his hand, and wraps it around his fist.

  Parting my lips, I touch them to the broad soft springy head of his cock. “Like this?”

  “Mmmmm—yeah, just like that.”

  “Tell me, Conrad. Tell me how you picture it, how you want me to do it. Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Anything, baby—I’ll do anything for you.”

  He groans, long and low. “Anything, Hannah? I’ve got a dirty, wicked imagination.”

  “I’m a dirty girl, Conrad.” I keep him bent away from his belly and caress the hard veiny silky shaft. “Haven’t you figured that out by now? There’s nothing you could want that I won’t want to do with you, or to you.”

  “God, Hannah. What the hell did I ever do to deserve you?”

  “I ask myself that all the time about you.” I lick the tip of his dick with the flat of my tongue. “Now…please, tell me
everything you want me to do to you, so I can do it. I want to make your dirtiest, darkest fantasies come true.”

  “You’re my fantasy, Hannah.”

  “I’m serious, Conrad. Anything. Just tell me.”

  He sighs. “You’re so fucking amazing, Hannah. That mouth of yours, Jesus.” He pushes me closer to his cock. “More of your mouth. Take me into your mouth. Use your tongue.”

  I kneel between his thighs and bend over him so my throat is open, and I start slow, start shallow. This isn’t new, I’ve done this to him before, and I know exactly how much he likes this. But…this time it feels different—sweeter, more tender. I bob on him, taking the glans between my lips, licking around it eagerly. Then deeper, sliding my mouth down the shaft inch by inch, slowly. I’m holding him with one hand at the base, keeping him tilted straight up, and my other hand is cupping his heavy balls, delicately, gently cradling them, caressing them.

  “Shit, yes, honey—just like that. Keep doing that.”

  “Mmmmm-hmmmm?”

  “Oh yeah. I dream about this. Then I wake up and it’s not real, and I have to jerk off. But this time it’s real. You’re real.”

  I’m real. Yes, I’m real.

  This is Conrad, beneath me, his cock between my lips, sliding toward my throat. I taste him, that familiar male musk and the salt of his skin. His cock stretching my lips, so thick my jaws ache. I back away and suck on the head, and then bob back down, and this time, without warning, I take him all the way, gagging and breathing through my nose as I swallow him down my throat, deeper, deeper, until his balls are at my chin and my nose bumps against his belly.

  “Fucking hell, Hannah.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Fuck, that’s incredible.” He groans as I back away, let him pop free of my mouth. “You know what else?”

  “What?” I ask, wiping my lips.

  “The way you sometimes just…put your mouth on the side of my cock, going down. And then you put your mouth on my balls, and use your hands on my cock.”

  I give him exactly that. Tilting my head sideways, I take his shaft between my lips and flutter my tongue along the veins and ridges, tasting him as I slide down, down, to his sac. I kiss and lick the tender globes of his balls, and then take the whole sac into my mouth and suckle, back away, tease them with my lips and tongue while stroking his cock with both fists, hand over hand. He groans and thrusts into my hands, and then cries out helplessly when I close my lips around his balls again and take them into my mouth. Stroke, suck, lick, and he’s gone, moaning, fist in my hair.

  “Okay, stop, stop. I’m gonna come, and I’m not ready yet.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No, god no. I don’t want to come in your mouth. Not this time.”

  “Where do you want to come?”

  “Inside you.” He lifts me, sets me astride him. “Ride me, Hannah.”

  I straddle him, kiss him. I lift my ass in the air and clutch his cock, nudging him between the lips of my pussy. Flutter my hips to tease him, not quite letting him push in. My palms rest on his shoulders, my tits smashed against his chest, my mouth shuddering against his. I tease him, rolling my hips in tiny circles so just the upper few inches of his cock grinds in and out of me, and then, when I’m as desperate as he is, I nab his lower lip between my teeth.

  I plunge my hips down, my ass slapping against his thighs, his huge, beautiful cock stretching me to a dizzy burn, sliding into me.

  His hands grip my hips and yank me down onto him, then he releases the pressure so I can lift up, and then, together, we slam me down on him, and I scream his name as he spears into me, filling me to glutted ecstasy, spreading my cunt apart, driving in deep—

  —there’s no stopping this, no way to hold out, no way to hold back. I can only hold on to him, my knees on either side of his waist, my hands clawing into his broad shoulders, my teeth nipping his hard chest. He fucks me with raw abandon, hips pistoning hard and fast, slamming his cock into me over and over and over, battering my cunt with bruising, beautiful power. My screams of pleasure are shaken by the force of his thrusts. He shifts his grip, his palms cupping my ass cheeks, spreading me apart so he can ram in deeper.

  And then, abruptly, he stops. I feel him tense, feel him pulling back from the brink of release.

  “I thought you wanted to come inside me?”

  “I do.”

  “Then why’d you stop?”

  He palms my ass, smooths and caresses. Spreads the globes open, and his finger brushes over my asshole. “Because I want you here.”

  I moan against his chest. “Then take me there, Conrad.”

  “Need you ready, first.”

  “So make me ready.”

  He thrusts slowly, angling to hit my G-spot. “Touch your pussy, Hannah. The more you come, the better it’ll feel when I touch you back there.”

  So, together, we make me come. He fucks me slowly, grinding smoothly in and out, hitting that magical place deep inside me that makes me so crazy, that makes me come so hard, but even when I’m wailing in ecstasy and writhing against him, he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, so neither do I, and together we make me come again, and this time, as the climax rips through me, he pulls his cock out of me.

  He rolls me onto my belly, and I gather my knees beneath me and draw them up to open myself for him. His fingers guide mine to my clit, and he silently urges me to keep touching myself, so I do. I finger my clit even as waves of ecstasy continue to assault me, one after the other, each more potent than the last. I feel him touch a fingertip to the tight rosebud of my asshole, massaging gently. His lips touch my ass cheek, kissing all over, closer and closer to where he’s touching, and then I feel his breath. I gasp a surprised shriek as his tongue touches me there, a light wet warm tickling that turns darkly erotic in an instant, tumultuously thrilling, sending pangs through me, low, sharp, and deep. And then I feel moisture pool against my asshole—his saliva. He presses a finger to me, and then, as I whimper with a wracking wave of orgasmic pleasure, he fits that fingertip inside me, and the gasp turns to ragged moans as I’m penetrated by his fingertip. God, it’s so good. So dark, so full, so filthy. I’m coming still, or again, coming nonstop, and he slowly, gently glides his finger deeper into me, millimeter by millimeter, and then his knuckles bump against my buttocks. He pulls his finger out, and I moan in agonized bliss as he pushes it back in. Again, and again, and each successive wave of orgasm is hotter and deeper than the last, and each time I come, he moves his finger in and out faster and faster, until he’s fucking my asshole with that single finger.

  But it’s too much. “I need—shit, Conrad, I need a minute. I need to stop coming for a minute. It’s too much.”

  He presses a kiss to my back, his finger buried deep inside me. He lifts up behind me, and I feel his cock at my slit, begging to slide inside me. “How about this?” he whispers.

  “Oh, yes,” I gasp, “god, yes. Please, please. Fuck me until I can come again.”

  He’s inside me before I’ve finished speaking, driving in. And god, it’s too good, his cock inside me, and his finger buried all the way into my ass. I’m so full, too full, and it feels too fucking good. It’s heaven. Or whatever is better than heaven, this is it, being like this with my Conrad. Taking him, all of him.

  “More,” I whisper.

  It’s all I have to say; I’m ready. My fingers go to my clit, and Conrad drives his cock slowly in and out of me, and he drags his finger out, slides it back in, fucking me both ways. An orgasm wells up, sending spasms bursting through me, and he feels it in the way my cunt clamps around his cock. I feel more saliva drip onto my asshole, lubricating me for the second finger he adds, and then I’m even more split apart, more full, and my voice breaks as shudders wrack me.

  I writhe against him as he fucks me, as he glides those two fingers in and out of me, and it’s so good, so amazing, so much…

  Yet not enough.

  I want him.

  “More, Conrad,” I be
g. “Fuck me there.”

  I feel him pull out of my pussy, hear him spit and hear the slick slide of his fist on his cock as he smears his saliva on himself.

  “Ready, Hannah?” He slowly pulls his fingers out of my asshole and nudges the opening with the head of his cock.

  “God yes. Yes.” I writhe against him, my fingers slowing on my clit, keeping myself teetering on the brink of an orgasm. “Put it inside me, Conrad. I want it all.”

  He spits again, and now my asshole and his cock are wet with saliva, slippery and ready. He pushes, and I focus on opening for him, moving my fingers against myself faster now. The climax builds, and I feel his cock press into my opening, beginning to stretch me apart. God, so slow. Then it’s an eternity of hovering on the edge of orgasm, gasping as Conrad gradually, carefully splits me open and fills me, inch by inch. I’m groaning as he slides in the last few inches, shuddering head to toe, tits shaking, sweat dotting my skin, pussy clamping as a strange dark new ecstasy rifles through me.

  “Okay, honey?” he asks.

  “Fuck yes. So much fucking more than okay.” I’ve got all of him inside me, then, stretching me and filling me. It hurts, but it’s such a beautiful hurt, the kind of pain that translates into jagged euphoria, utter rapture. “Fuck me, Conrad. Fuck me until you come.”

  I push back against him, and he remains still, his hands gripping my ass cheeks in a rough, desperate squeeze. He needs to move, but he doesn’t want to hurt me; I need this, need it. Need it.

  So I fuck him.

  I brace my hands in front of me and lower my chest to the bed and push into him until my ass squishes flat against his hips. Then I pull forward, a ragged whimper scraping out of my throat as I feel his cock slipping through the spasming ring of muscle. My jaw clenches on a grating scream, and I keep pulling forward until he’s nearly out of me, and his grip on my ass cheeks tightens. I begin pushing backward, then, taking him into me, and the scream I’m biting down on escapes in a shrill burst. Conrad snarls, and thrusts the last few inches.