by Dani Wyatt
Any control I had disappears when one of those amazing hands slips downward and the other travels upward, skimming over my nipple to rest around my throat.
Just as his fingertips graze my lower lips, his other hand tightens under my jaw.
Something between a gasp and a moan comes from me as he sets two fingers into my wet folds, firm on my clit, and adds the final hammer blow with his tongue tracing up my neck until he’s just below my ear.
A shudder passes through every bone and muscle, and I’m drowning in the fire erupting inside of me.
It’s magic how he manages to keep all of that going on and walk me forward into a shower big enough to fit a compact car. It’s encased in half-inch thick glass standing almost eight feet high with Carrera marble on the floor and a shower-head wall where two firehouse-sized shower heads are spraying.
Inside, the steam clouds around us, and he guides my steps below the flood water. I am in sensory overload, and I turn to melted butter against the hardness of everything about him.
His chest is against my back, his hand, still at my throat, only adding to the way my body is bending to the will of his other working fingers. He’s playing with me, exploring, and the tension I hear in his ragged breaths tells me just how much he wants to do exactly what he’s doing to me right now.
“There is something about you.” He rumbles as the water engulfs me.
More lips, more fingers, more of everything, and I forget how to speak.
“Something deep inside of me tells me you’re mine. Mine to protect. Does that scare you?” It’s Beck again, the one that smiles and makes me feel like a girl in some parallel universe where Mom is home cooking roast beef and Dad is just getting home from a round of golf, and I’m normal.
The timbre of his voice sends a chill down my spine in spite of the near scalding shower coursing over me.
I nod and then shake my head. I don’t know the answer to his question. There is fear rising up in me now, yes. But there is also something stronger. Something that tells me to turn and cling to him with all my might and never let go.
The water is rushing in my ears, but I can still hear his dark laugh at my indecision.
“Good answer, babe. You should be scared, but you should also know, you’ll never have anyone care about you like I do. No one. I’ve been waiting for you.” As his words fill my ears, his massive hands slide to my hips and turn me to face him.
He raises my hands over my head and presses me against the glass. Darting hands move quickly downward, cupping my ass, lifting me up and around his waist with a gasp.
That little girl that always sat alone at the lunch table listening to Bobby Lewinski moo at her is screaming inside my head—hoping I’m not too heavy, or that he won’t notice the way my belly folds over on itself.
As if he’s reading my mind, he sinks his teeth into my shoulder, then glares at me with eyes that drown me with him.
“What are you thinking about? I can feel it . . . tell me.”
“I’m afraid you’ll drop me. I’m heavy.”
His fingers dig into my ass like claw hooks, lowers his face and bites down again, this time on the inside of my tit, and it shorts out any other thoughts with the raw pain.
“Owwww.” I wince and gasp as he grinds his abs into my open slit and raises me up and down easily.
“Stop that shit right now. Every inch of you blows my fucking mind. I can’t believe you aren’t a dream.”
He’s got my back against the slick glass wall, his cock nudging me from below. He’s still lifting me up and down, our bodies wet, and I feel the rising tide of tension between my legs. I wrap my arms around his neck tighter and look at the face that seems to know me more than I know myself.
“Tell me you want me. I need to hear it.” I’m lost in the sound of his voice, the hint of danger in his voice.
He pulls me against him so tight; his arms are like stone, every muscle in his chest flexed. I can see the sinuous threads of muscle under the smooth skin.
My body is screaming for him to press upward inside of me. Even with the throbbing soreness, I want him. More than the first time.
I wiggle my hips, straining to manipulate the tip of his cock upward, and that only locks him down harder on my rear end. Jolts of pain are radiating upward from where his fingers are deep in my flesh.
“That hurts,” I groan.
“You said you wanted it to hurt.” He kisses my cheek. “Now, I need you to tell me—you want me, don’t you? I need you to beg for it; I can see it in your eyes. Just let it out. Beg. Tell me how much you want me inside you. How much you want to be mine.”
He’s moving me up and down again, only, this time, it’s slow and steady. You wouldn’t think a movement of an inch or two would be so intense. He’s pressing those amazing abs into me—higher then lower, just the tip of his cock lining up, then pulling away leaving me desperate. My head is buzzing, and whimpers are coming from my throat.
He won’t unlock his eyes from my face. He’s challenging me, and I’m not sure who I am right now. I’m not who I was five days ago, but I don’t know yet who I’ve become.
I don’t want to have to say it. I just want him. Not want, need, like an ache, an actual pain inside me that only he can relieve.
“Please . . .” I get that one word out in a clutching whisper.
“Not good enough.” This time, he smiles, but it’s more devious than before.
I yelp as he slips one hand down and under me, spinning the head of his cock at my soaking opening, teasing me. My body is sure of what it wants. It’s just my mind that is fighting back.
I shouldn’t want this. I’ve spent my whole life making sure of it. These feelings are nothing like what happened before. Nothing like that day.
I squeeze my eyes shut because none of that darkness belongs here now, with us. From the look in Beckett’s eyes, I’m already his.
“I want to see you cum. It’s the most beautiful sight. Just ask. I need to hear it. I’ll help you, just repeat after me . . .”
His mouth hangs open, waiting for me to acknowledge, and I lower my chin, not even able to give him a full nod.
“Okay,” he starts. “Say ‘I want your cock inside me. I need you inside me.’ We’ll keep it simple today. Just say it—ready? ‘I . . .” He nods his head, urging me, his lips stuck in the form of the first word he is waiting for me to repeat.
“I want—” I start then stop as he guides me downward an inch, my hips shaking with the head of his cock held still at my opening, and I can’t breathe. He nods again, urging me on. “—your cock. Please.”
“More.” His voice rushes around me, and suddenly I am liquid again . . . I am caught in his wake, pulled, following him anywhere he would choose.
Another inch down and the head is almost inside me, my body stretching already in a sweet craving pain. It hurt before, but I want it again. I want that pain right now.
“I need your cock inside me. God, please . . .” The words fall out of me in croaking, pathetic whimpers.
I’m desperately trying to push my hips down, but he’s in complete control.
“Good girl.” His voice isn’t much better than mine, and I realize how hard it is for him to hold back. He’s in as much pain as I am.
He lowers me, this angle so different from when we were in bed. My body is splayed against him. Already I can feel it building, that amazing feeling.
“God . . .” I pull him to me, and my head is on his shoulder as he gives me a jerking thrust, pushing more of him inside than I expected, and any air in my lungs is expelled in a loud burst.
“Jesus, Promise. I want to be like this forever.” Beckett’s lips are on my neck as he rocks us together, more of him inside me with each solid motion until I’m stretched and filled to my limit. It’s burning like a bee sting as he sets himself so deep, I feel it in my belly.
“Wait, oh god. Wait, it’s too much . . .” I gasp.
He settles back in tense restrain
t. I don’t know how much he’s retreated but enough that I can gulp some air.
“Shhhhh, I’ve got you. I want to hear you cum. I want to feel that on me. You’re so wet; it’s beautiful. Ask me to make you cum. Ask for it.” He settles teeth and lips into the crook of my neck and rocks himself against me until I’m ready to fly apart.
He’s pushing into me, taking back, angling my hips, stroking forward, up then down. Just when I think I’ll explode, he stops.
“Ask . . . ,” he whispers into my ear.
Threatening tears are burning my eyelids from the depth of my want. He denies me, and it is as painful as it is exquisite.
I yelp as he jerks our bodies together, driving his thick granite so far inside of me, I see stars. Then, he holds himself seated there.
“Owww . . .” The blinding pain swirls around into a burning heat that needs him to release it. The orgasm that is building will not be denied, like a desperate need for air after being caught in a tide.
“Ohhh god, please let me cum, let me. . . . Please, may I cum?”
Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would utter those words. But even as they leave my lips, Beckett is giving me exactly what he promised. Exactly what I asked for.
Taking one hand from my ass, Beckett tenses it around the back of my neck with lightning speed and pushes me back, so he is locked onto my face with his eyes.
“Cum, baby. I want to see you when you cum.”
If it wasn’t his words, it was the way he leaned into me, and his cock spread me wide, his body angled to press against my clit in one, two, three deep strokes, faster and faster until I choke on the desperate wave of the climax that rips up from my toes and flashes in my very core until I can’t hear anything else but the sounds coming from my chest.
My hips take on their own life, jerking, and the muscles in my back tighten, pulling me drawstring tight, but Beckett has my neck, holding me steady as he stares at me. His mouth opens, he is utterly lost in the moment with me.
“Beautiful girl,” he mutters as he watches me lose myself.
I’m not sure what this is between us, but I need more.
Small ripples of my orgasm grip around him. He is not even seated in me to his full length, and it hurts. And I realize that is the exact kind of pain I need from him a million more times.
Beckett slows his strokes, giving me a moment to recover.
“I loved that.” His lips are so soft and warm on mine even though I can’t kiss him back right now. “Feeling that happen with me inside you. God, you are incredible.”
He is stroking deep and slow, and I realize just how stunning he truly is. I’ve looked at him before, studied him in fact, but I must be seeing through different eyes right now because he is magnificent, and I feel a tightness in my chest—almost like I’m grieving, like he’s already left me, and this is the kind of pain I would feel.
I realize again he’s inside of me, and he’s not wearing a condom. I’m fighting a battle that tears at me because I want him to stay, I want to feel him cum inside me, but I know that’s not a good idea.
“I want you on your knees. Will you do that for me? Give me that honor?” His voice is stern. It is a command wrapped in a question. I cannot imagine denying him.
He’s lifting me. Slipping out of me as if he had read my mind again.
Through all the years since that first time Steven did what he did, the thought of taking a man in my mouth has sickened me. I try to shake away the image of the two boys that night as they each held themselves to my young lips. The smack of Steven’s hand when I refused. Then again when he realized my ignorance of how to do what he wanted.
But, this is not the same, not the way I’d always imagined. I want him; I want to taste him and give him what he just gave me.
“Yes.” He’s lowering me, my legs reaching for the ground. My feet slip on the wet marble, and my legs need to be reminded of their purpose.
Beckett’s mouth is on mine, his tongue making lazy work of licking my lips, then pushing inside to graze at my tongue until our lips are stretched to their limits, and I let my hands explore.
He feels larger than life. I linger where my hands curl around the flesh that feels like silk wrapped around iron. A burst of panic heats my chest as I think of how I will do something of which I have no experience. No knowledge besides a few naughty videos.
He lets our kiss go, and I love the soft moan that leaves his lips as I stroke him. He’s so slippery from being inside me. The shower's water hits his back, and I watch the rivers gather and stream down the smooth indents between his muscles as it finds its way over his shoulders and down through the valleys of his chest.
His skin is the perfect shade of naked flesh, much deeper in tone than my own translucent ivory. He’s got a hint of his dad’s darker skin, rich and warm, and I want to crawl inside him and have him envelop me.
He reaches toward the top of the glass where thick, white towels hang. He folds one square and drops it at his feet, and his hands gently wipe my dripping hair off my face.
“Down, babe.” He gently presses my shoulders downward, and the way he speaks to me has my belly doing ten kinds of cartwheels.
More surprising is how very badly I want to do this, how I crave to please him, to do what he tells me.
My hands are around his cock, and his size is frightening and magnificent. I try to channel the little knowledge I’ve gathered from the few glimpses shameful videos so he won’t be disappointed by my inexperience.
“I want to see you taste yourself on me. It's beautiful.”
I open my lips, my tongue taking the first glancing stroke, and I hear his moan. I’m guiding him as I use my tongue, and feel the incredible way he is like granite under skin, so soft it defies explanation.
Time seems to suspend. You would think I would balk or hesitate, but that sense of serendipity comes at me in waves, and I feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be.
Deep, rumbles of pleasure drift down through the rush of the water.
I'm doing that. I’m making him feel so good, he’s making those sounds.
A guttural moan comes from above as my lips and tongue work in unison, my hand stroking up and down.
The way he tastes is unlike anything I’ve ever imagined. Uniquely and utterly masculine. His skin on my tongue has some inner instinct rising up and making me ravenous to please him.
“God, babe.” His words drip over me like a gentle, sensual rain.
I feel the first gentle pressure of his hands on my head. He’s not forcing, he’s guiding. And, instead of feeling panic, I feel connected.
My mouth opens wider taking in the thickness of him, working up and down; he touches the back of my throat, and my body reacts and closes off my air.
His hands have turned to gripping fingers, gathering my hair in a tangle, and he’s showing me the cadence, his rhythm, and I desperately want him here showing me just this.
“Just like that. God—right there. Jesus . . .”
He’s making a sound I want to hear over and over. The water is spraying around his back, making a white halo around the magnificence of his body. The head of his massive cock is growing, and my tongue plays with the defined ridge. I revel in the way my mouth is making this happen.
Faster, he’s nudging the back of my throat, and I can’t help the little gagging sounds that are coming from me. The roots of my hair are straining under his hands, but I don't care. I am single-minded, and every thought I have is compelled to bring him this.
“Take it, babe. Good girl, such a good girl . . .” He grunts, the words coming like bursts of some kind of primal torture.
Faster, faster, deeper . . . until I can get no air, and I don’t care. I never thought I’d desire what’s about to happen. I was sure—sure—this would never be a part of my life.
Before today I thought it would have taken force to make me do this . . . but here I am. Willingly, gladly giving him this part of myself.
I’m someone else right now, desperate for his flavor on my tongue, and my mind and body come together to reach that goal. I suck like my life depends on it and feel his body harden, his moans turning into a bellow even under the roar of the water.
It’s me doing this for him, and a strange sense of pride comes over me as my throat works to take him as deep as I can. Hands, tongue, lips toiling willingly until he grows to another size inside my mouth, and I feel the first spray of release slick my tongue.
“Oh fuck—” What follows is a sound I love. The sound of a kind of pleasure I didn’t know about until today. It is like the call of a wild beast, pulling me back in time, claiming me in some carnal way.
I gag and try to hold him, but he’s too big, the explosion inside my mouth far from the revolting, degrading act I had imagined. It is a sharing—a taking of part of him, a giving of part of me. And, I want his essence inside my body.
I gasp a breath around him, giving myself a moment with the last gush dripping from my lips onto the stark paleness of my skin. I can barely tell the difference between me and his cum.
The moment hits me just as his fingers loosen in my hair, and he falls to his knees, face to face with me, his eyes a stormy sea, the dark look of a man deep in a state of some satisfaction I don’t understand.
I swallow deep, making sure he knows it’s what I want to do.
“Beautiful.” His lips are on mine.
He’s kissing me even as his flavor still runs in my mouth, and he is utterly shameless, making me want him more.
I’m spinning as our kiss ignites, realizing everything that has happened—from the moment I turned that corner in front of the building and ran into that stink of a man . . . to being in Beckett's bed, feeling him enter me . . . and then, now, having him pull us together, enveloping me in some raw possessive power that I both want to run from and never leave.
“Now, you really are mine. You know that, don’t you?” That crooked, sexy smile is back as he pulls me up into him, standing for us both, and deep in my soul, I answer in the affirmative because there really is no other possibility at this moment.
