You never fail to drive my wantonness to a higher level and I start to vocalize as I pleasure your pleasureland. Loud humming sounds, knowing the vibrations will send you little shivers as they pass from my lips to your clit. Sucking loud, wet. My mouth releasing so I can talk dirty:
‘Please feed me your big girl-cock.’
‘It’s so hard and throbbing in my mouth.’
‘Please fuck my face with it. You know how I love when you do that.’
Rub my face from side to side over you wetness. Feeling the raised finger of your womanhood on my cheeks.
‘Does he know how you fuck me with this?’
‘Stabbing at my clit with it.’
‘How I scream out your name when I come.’
Hair is almost ripped out in clumps. You position my mouth where you want it. Your hips pumping up and down. A command: ‘Suck me now!’ Fucking my mouth with your clit. Thrusting up, over and over. Hips raising me up, hands pulling me down. Face-fucking your bitch, using her mouth for your sins. My mind swimming in the knowledge that I am your bitch, I receive your sinful desire.
Then: in medias res—on my back, you above me.
See: your head thrown back, breasts swinging. You grind down on my face. Rolling your hips. Just as I think you might smother me, I'm flooded with wetness. Washing over and into my mouth. Your body shaking on me. Strong, one after another. Each subsequent wave tapers off until you come to a stop. Your weight leaves me and returns by the length of my body. Covering mine with yours. Our bodies. Nuzzle my nose into your hair. Listening to your breathing slowing, calming, returning to normal. Kiss your head. Hold tight. Our bodies.
My heart: it is pounding but nowhere near the pace that yours: yours is running. Our bodies relaxing, merging. Fitting together. Complete. One. Us. We. You, me.
You: asleep in my arms. Kiss you tenderly, join you in rest.
Your body: it shifts and I roll, following your movement, trying to remain in your warmth. Not awake, half conscious, eyelids crack open, see you looking into my face. Eyes close again, a smile.
You push me onto my back. I lay among the pillows and covers. Still not ready to leave the comfort of your body, one arm slides under your side just as you start to move over me.
***
It is bright in the room. What happened to time?
You hover over me and go: ‘Good morning, sunshine.’
I want more sleep. But it doesn’t matter what I want.
Your hand: cuts across my face. Slapping hard. The force turns my head sideways.
Awake now. Look back up towards you but, before I can speak or see your face, your hand returns. Swift, ambushing; turning my face back into the pillow; fingers stinging along the flesh of my left cheek where your hand has struck.
The weight of your body, heavy, and you reach for one arm, then the other. Shoving them down along my sides where you trap them with your thighs and knees. Immobile now. See: the firmness in your face. Your gaze: down at me. You hold me like this, your face without emotion for the longest minute in the brightest morning of the earth.
Deliberate slowness: your left arm moves back. Me: fascinated by the way your body moves. The muscles of your upper arm flex, your left breast lifts, your palm, open and flat.
‘Bitch!’
A handful of hair yanked and pulled and twisted: you spit the word out.
Hair anchored in your fist, you pin my head. Your body leaning over and tilted to the side.. The other arm rising and falling: you continue to slap my face. Sharp claps of pain along with increasing heat as I feel my face reddening from the blows.
Both of your hands ripping at my hair, bouncing my head up and down on the bed.
‘What the fuck---did you think--you're doing--coming here—unannounced?!?’
‘Sucking—my soon-to-be-hsuand’s—cock...and his ass....’
‘Where the hell have you been?!’
:’…missed you so much…hurt…hurts…’
‘You bitch, why are you back?!?’
Your hands: they toss my head free and you reach down and twist both my nipples. Nipples that are rock hard. A fact that did not escape you. You continue to twist and pull them, a wicked grin now on your face.
‘Are you wet?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
My pussy: soaked.
A hand flies across my face again.
‘Will this make you squirt?’
Eyes wide, focused on your hand clenched into a fist. Thinking that you will hit me, really hit me, with closed fist.
You say no. Open your hand and angle your torso down closer to me. Your face: inches from mine.
‘But I will whip you; beat you some more. Make it crystal clear that you are my bitch! Now and forever; no matter what. And you will never, ever leave again.’
Your hips: rotating, undulating back and forth. Feel the heat and wetness of you. You positioned pussy to pussy with me.
Hands beside my head, rubbing me. Offering my pussy to you and you take it, using it to pleasure your land of pleasure.
‘I need to fuck you again. Beating my bitch always gets me hot.’
The pillow behind my head: you tear it away, force it under my ass. Keeping my pelvis up for you.
My mound slick with you as you rub yourself harder and faster on my body. Grind along with you. Pushing upwards and moving in the opposite direction.
A fire: in your eyes—in medias res, you watch me under you.
‘Come on bitch, you can fuck better than that! Remind me why I like fucking you, why I should continue to fuck you. Why I should keep you after I marry a cock. Give me that pussy...’
I bring my pussy up. Thrusting it out so that you can work your clit against mine. The friction of your pubic hair against my shaved nakedness. You thrust forward. Long minutes of controlled violence. Your grip on my breasts hurts and hurts good. You: relentless, pain-giver. Want to wrap my legs around you, scissor with you. The twinkle in your eyes tells me you are aware of my wanton need. You: taking much pleasure knowing my wants are denied.
‘This fuck is all about me.’
‘I am the bride.’
‘I make the decisions around here.’
You are the decider, ma’am.
I know that I am yelling but I don't know what or how loud. You fall forward: hooking your arms around my shoulders. Your teeth closing in the soft flesh of my shoulder…
***
I am your maid of honor. Your wedding. Watch you become one with Don. ‘Mrs. Elliott.’ How odd. Lauren Elliott now. Lauren Silver is gone. I remember our night together, and the nights that will come, as you say the words of fidelity. The cock. Your pussy. The honeymoon. The juices. The smells. One of the bridesmaids smiles at me—in medias res—this wedding of ours—and I see it in her eyes: they are my eyes, the eyes I once had, eyes I may still have, hope that I have. I know this girl is yours as I am yours.
Don sees this.
We all belong to you; we’re all marrying you today.
A Fire in Your Eyes Page 2
