by Dani Wyatt
“I trust you. I trust you with all of me. I belong to you. All of me to all of you.” Her voice deepens with each word. Her hands move to the sides of my face as my own breath deepens and I feel like a predator looking at his willing prey.
She gives me exactly what I want, and it only serves to sear my ownership of her into me deeper. I need to ravish her until she’s near ruin, because in my crazed brain, I want to take all her soft innocence and make her filthy. Covered with my cum, her body wracked with so many orgasms she craves me constantly.
I fight with the button on her slacks, then the zipper, and suddenly I’m tearing them off of her, looping one arm around her waist, lifting her.
She kicks her feet as I raise her upright off the bed, sending them away, and as the white fabric settles on the floor around my feet I lay her down, taking in the glory of her form.
The sounds she’s making, soft and needy as my eyes drift up to hers, have my cock leaking pre-cum, soaking my boxers.
She’s watching me watch her.
Then she looks at my lips as she licks her own. She is everything sexy in this world to me, driving a stake through my heart as the mixture of voluptuous innocence and tangible sexual need shoots from her eyes.
Every time she pushes me to where I am now, this place where something inside of me turns and I can’t fight the primal need to exert my ownership over her. I need to penetrate her in every way until she bends to my will.
“Spread your legs. You know better.” My voice is raw; my face is strained as my hands drop to the buckle on my belt.
The clinking sound is all I hear next to my heart racing as I release the metal, the swoosh as I jerk the length of leather from fabric, doubling it over in my hands and snapping it against my other open palm.
Her eyelids flutter as she raises both hands above her head and her knees fall open. This is the position she knows I demand, the rules we’ve established when we fall into these moments. It should be instinct for her, but that single moment of doubt has earned her exactly what we both need.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her eyes pinned on mine. There is no fear because she knows I will only take her as far as she needs to go.
“What do you do when I lay you down like this? What do I want when I put you here?”
She takes a breath before the words come, her knees falling open several more inches. The animal in me growls and rears up as I admire her, admire the stunning pink, curvy magnificence of what belongs to me.
The gash between her legs is slick with juice. Her body calls to me. The way her curves soften as she stretches out, offering all of her to do as I wish. The scent of her lust hits me like a hammer and I want in there deep.
My mouth waters as my eyes drift slowly over every succulent inch of her.
I want it all. I want to know all about her. Before I met Promise I didn't know shit about what clothes sizes meant. I'd never bought anything for a woman, never had any desire to make decisions about what they wore. Such meaningless choices. I never even wanted to buy shit for a woman before her.
But wanting Promise means wanting her completely. I know to most guys that's weird shit, but I want to know everything. Every time she has a cramp, every thought and feeling, every measurement.
I know her bra size is 36D, her waist is 37. I know her pants are a size 14. I even know the different styles of panties she likes to wear, depending on the time of the month. I know everything. And as for the panties, she's quickly learning that they're becoming unnecessary. Soon I'll ban them altogether. Because I need fucking access. Skirts and no panties. That will be the new dress code.
But that order will wait a bit longer. I'm fucking busy right now.
I tip my head waiting for her answer. She’s spread wide now, doing what I wish, but I need her to acknowledge with words where she fell short.
She understands what we're doing. I’m a demanding fuck in a lot of ways, but I give more than I take.
“When you lay me down . . .” She takes a slow inward breath, her chest rising as she pushes up on her toes a few inches, scooting her feet even farther apart to please me.
Which it fucking does.
She bites her lip before she continues. My hands are firm on her bent knees, the belt dangling from my grip. I lean forward, unable to keep myself from being drawn closer to the scent of her pussy. It has its claws dug into me like a raptor.
“ . . . when you lay me down, you want to see all of me. I’m supposed to show you what’s yours. Open myself to you, willingly giving myself to you.”
“Good girl. So why didn’t you do that when I put you down? Why did you close your legs? You know that's insulting to me, when you cover what’s mine.” My voice rumbles in my chest as my eyes eat her from above.
Even I don’t completely understand it, this fire that she brings out in me. She’s my sickness. Her body is my playground. Her orgasm is my fix.
“I’m sorry. I forgot, you can be very distracting, you know.” She gives me a wide-eyed, lost-at-sea look and all I want to do is ram my tongue inside her pussy so far she’ll think time has stopped.
My eyes linger on her coy lips, the smallest of vixen smiles playing over them, turning them upward. It contrasts with her ivory-doll-like innocence. It makes me feel like a newly released convict, ready to raise hell on a sacrificial virgin.
Her belly trembles.
Good, I’ve trained her well. Her body knows what’s coming and it’s all good for her. She knows there is a buffet of quivering orgasms coming her way. I won’t stop until her cum is dripping down the insides of her luscious thighs and her voice is raw from screaming my name.
The streams of light make stripes across her soft flesh. The belt in my hand is twitching, ordering me to mark her. I’ve never used a belt on her before, just my hand. And when we played like that, when the time was right and we were both in that headspace, it was like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
She’s eyeing me, then the belt, then back to me. Waiting like a good, sweet slut. A flicker of excited fear crosses her face as I tighten my hand on her left knee, pressing it over toward the other, turning her.
“Ass up,” I order.
She gives me one last sideways glance before inhaling deeply. As she maneuvers onto her knees, head down on the soft white duvet, I hear her release the air from her lungs and relax.
Yes, relax. No, it’s more than that. She’s giving herself to me, to do as I wish, putting her trust in me to give her what she needs.
She knows I will stop in a second if she says the word. From the first time I brought my hand on her ass, we entered into this contract. She has the power to stop anything if it is too much for her. One word and it all stops. We regroup.
It hasn’t happened, but she has that power. She has more power than she knows.
I double the belt over, smacking it down twice into my own palm, gauging the sting. The sight of her ripe, round ass, and the contrast of the pink, wet gash of her pussy, turns my thoughts more depraved than usual.
Her fingers tighten on the snow white fabric. Her eyes close and she pushes her weight back toward me another inch. Inside my head the beast is buzzing, screaming for his own perverse desire.
But this moment is for us both.
The first smack of the leather on her ass lights the room with her sensuous, painful gasp. Her body shudders and her mouth opens. It stings, but it doesn’t hurt. I would never hurt her; only give her the sensation she craves. And if the rush of clear, sweet cream from her pussy is any indication, I’ve hit the damn sweet spot.
“Good girl.”
I cock back and let another slap ignite across her white flesh.
Two crimson stripes appear immediately, and the sight of them–my marks on her–has my dick raging and turns my mind manic. My flesh crawls with heat.
I don’t know how she becomes more beautiful in these moments, but she does. I couldn’t desire her any more if she was every fucking Victoria’s Secret model bundled into one.
Twice more I bring down the belt. Promise yelps through her smile and I watch the muscles in her back tighten. My dick is leaking and I practically cum all over myself looking at how fucking beautiful she is. But I talk myself down. I get it under control, because one cardinal rule is my girl always cums first.
“Good girl.” I drop the belt, my fingertips grazing over the four stripes, two on each side. Promise melts into the bedding. “Did you like that?”
“Mmmm.”
It’s all I get but the sound is like music. A softness in her voice tells me she is gone for the moment, gone from all the things that cloud her head. She is completely mine and I plan to show her exactly what that means to me.
My heart melts. The stress is draining from both of us and in its place is a raw, tense, sexual energy just waiting to be released.
My mouth is watering. No, practically drooling, as I kick off my boots and drop trou in six seconds flat. Before she can take her next breath, both my hands are firmly on top of the heated, red skin of her ass. As fast as humanly possible, I spread her with my hands, drop down and ram my tongue as far as I can into her sweet, soaking pussy.
Both of us let out a moan that would have put any neighbors we had on notice. But since we are the only ones in the building, our sounds echo in the ceiling and make me hotter than an angry hornet.
Her silky, sweet cunt is running like a river. I drop the belt, snaking two fingers gently over the rising pink streaks, listening to the subtle changes in her breathing as I lower my face and replace my fingers with my tongue. Tracing the lines, I exchange my tongue with kisses, my hands digging into the lush flesh of her backside until I moan along with her.
“Beck . . .” she whines.
“You needy, babe?” I drag my face lower, spreading her ass cheeks with the dig of my massive hands, breathing on her soaking cunt, teasing her. Her lust smells like sex candy and it’s hard as fuck not to dive right in, but I want her quivering and begging. “Touch yourself, let me see your fingers inside you. Get some of this sweet pussy on your fingers and taste yourself.”
I don’t know what I love more: fucking her, eating her, or watching her masturbate. The first time I had her Jill-off for me, she was so cute. The hint of embarrassed innocence only made me hotter than fuck, but since then, she’s learned how much it pleases me to watch her touch herself. And I’m the luckiest fuck on the planet because my girl seems to like to please me as much as I like to please her.
She slips her arm down below her body, coming up right in front of my face where I’m still locked behind her, admiring all that is mine with my hands, keeping her spread open and my eyes glued to the shiny, silk gash that has my name written all over it.
“That’s it, babe. Show me what that pussy likes.”
Her fingers tremble as she settles them into the masterpiece of pink folds, stroking her clit, circling it and letting out her special musical fuck-me noises until my cock is near shooting off in my pants.
It’s more than I can take. When two of her fingers disappear into her soaking snatch, it’s my moment; I drive my face in, following her, kissing and licking where her fingers pump in and out. The sensation of her fingers under my tongue stroking herself and the flavour of her arousal tighten my balls until I see stars.
“Ummm, please . . .” Promise’s legs are quivering along with her voice.
“Drop that hand, babe, I’ll take it from here. Push your pussy back on my mouth and I’ll give you what you need.”
I eat her drenched pussy buffet until she can’t hold herself up. Then I flip her over, spread her legs until she yelps liked a kicked puppy and settle my mouth between her legs again, sucking down hard on her clit.
She tastes like every fantasy I’ve ever had. Sweeter, more sensual than anything I could imagine. The flavor runs directly from my mouth to my dick until I’m so hard I could cut glass.
My tongue dances around her swollen nub and I suck down until she gushes. I hear the music start to come from her. Her hips convulse and flounce under my face and I keep working, slamming two fingers into the river that pours out of her.
She moans my name until it seems as if she knows no other words right now and that’s how it damn well should be. My name is the only word she can form when she cums.
She twists as the orgasm takes over, practically knocking me backward, but my other hand keeps my little bronco’s thigh set tight. I drag my teeth over her clit until my face is soaked and she shakes like a damn earthquake. When she screams my name one more time and her voice gives out, my job here is done.
Well, not done. Never done.
Never.
Promise
I've orgasmed three times already, just from Beckett's mouth.
The thundering waves of back to back climaxes flow through me and over me, pushing the storm to the very back of my mind. Not forgotten. I can't forget what's going on with Louis and Jordan and Holly. But it's no longer my focus. And I have Beckett to thank for that.
Beckett’s tongue does things to me I still don’t understand. He is everywhere at once, devouring me as if making me cum is the most important mission of his life.
The warmth and throbbing that radiate from where the belt met my flesh only adds to the overwhelming sensations that completely envelop me as his tongue and fingers work magic.
“God, Beck, please, that’s enough, I can’t cum anymore—” My voice breaks and cracks when I try to say his name one last time.
As soon as the words leave my lips, I know it’s a mistake. Beckett halts his movements for a moment and I can almost hear the cogs whirring inside his head. His eyes raise to look at me, and I realize I’ve just challenged him.
“We’ll see about that, babe.” He smiles before he attacks me again.
One finger, then two push deep inside me, slipping easily in and out with the slick juice he’s created between my legs. I can feel it running down the insides of my thighs, pooling on the white duvet below my butt.
The tension between us tangles until it’s like we’ve melded together. My pleasure is his pleasure. He moans into my folds, sounding lost in the moment, just like me.
I look down just as he looks up. This is the moment that always slays me. Seeing the desire in his face. His desire to watch me; to know he’s giving me pleasure is enough to push me over the edge again.
The tension gathers low. I keep my eyes on his as he locks them onto mine. His tongue spins around my clit. Then down. Then back. Fingers moving faster and faster, ramming in my cunt until the tingling tightness starts. The last thing I see before my eyes close is the hint of his smile. A flash of that chipped front tooth and then I’m lost again in a climax that jerks my thighs together, slapping and trapping his face between my legs.
I make sounds I’ve never made before. Like an animal in the midst of some perfect torment, a sensual pain that elevates me to something above this plane of existence.
I lose complete control over my muscles. My body jerks and my hips gyrate on his face. My fingers pull at his hair and my brain completely shuts off.
Just the way he planned.
I feel the vibration of his words as he growls into my body. I cum on his face.
“My pussy. My cum. My good girl.”
He talks into me like this often. At first it felt strange.
He’s talking into my pussy.
But Beckett is so unflinchingly confident. So unaffected. So completely alive in every moment. I find it beautiful now, and it makes me feel incredibly cherished.
Besides, it just feels good. Those low baritone vibrations spoken into my soaking girl parts are not without their own sort of tingle.
My eyes begin to focus as he crawls
up on top of me. I turn to melted butter at the mere sight of his magnificence. My hands were born to be on his body. I love the contrast of his smooth, soft skin over a hardness that radiates pure physical power. The way the burned skin feels slick, different from the rest.
He is a man in ways I didn’t understand until I met him. Power does not come from bravado nor arrogance nor boisterous frat boy stupidity.
Beckett is power. A true, masculine power that is as loud as it is silent. His calm, unflappable countenance draws me to him like light into dark. I want to tuck myself under his wings, to crawl inside him and feel the peace that he brings me.
His body bridges over me. My hands draw up from his shoulders. I feel the movement of each tendon under sweat slick skin as the head of his enormous cock presses upward between my legs.
“Open,” he demands. “Spread your legs, babe. Open those knees and show me what’s mine. Only mine.”
I do as I’m told, the tingling tightening into a knot in my core as he rears back, licks his lips and shakes his head, looking at my open snatch.
“That’s my horny cunt, isn’t it?” He licks his lips and waits for my nod. “That’s right.” He sinks two fingers into my dripping opening in one solid movement and brings them, soaking wet, to his lips. “You’ll never get wet for anyone but me. Only me.”
I lay open for him, and after a long silence he shifts down lower. I raise my own body, wanting him inside me even after he’s made me cum at least four times with his mouth. Wanting him fully. Completely.
His brow knits together as he brings his face down to mine. I feel the warmth of his breath on my lips before he takes my mouth. Tasting my own arousal on him makes my belly flutter. I let out a whimper into our kiss.
He pulls back, his face intense, those eyes that could melt candles lock onto mine and my hands cradle his cheeks while his cock dances at my opening.
I want him inside me, more than I want my next breath. But somehow he holds steady, watching me.
“What? Please. I want you, now.” I whine and wiggle my hips up toward him but he counters backward and I whimper in frustration.
