The edge where nothing and no one else matters. The edge where it’s just me and him without the world’s judgment, labeling, and bullshit.
“He can’t touch it,” I breathe out.
“And why is that?”
“Because it’s yours.”
His jaw clenches and I can tell how much he’s aroused now, because his nostrils flare and the possessiveness washes over me in waves. It’s why I say things like that; I know they make him shed his control and turn into the powerful dominant who’s able to tear my world to pieces.
And then he curses and I get wetter at the thought that he wants me so much, he can’t contain it. Other men sound coarse when they curse, he sounds hotter than sin.
“What’s mine?” His voice is thicker, deeper.
“My pussy. It’s yours.”
“Fuck.”
“Yes, please fuck me.”
He closes his eyes, and even though his jaw is in a rigid line, I think he’s trying to conjure some form of patience, but when he opens them, he isn’t calm. On the contrary, his eyes are nearly black with all the shadows crowding his masculine face.
“What did you just say, baby girl?”
“Fuck me.” It’s barely a murmur now, a bit unsure since he’s pressing hard on both my nipples and my clit, playing with the tight tips, teasing and rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. And the pressure is reeling and about to take me under.
So I let it.
I let my limbs relax as the orgasm washes over me. It’s long and smooth and effortless, just like everything about him.
Then he’s moving me up and removing my panties, I realize in my pleasure haze, so I lift my trembling legs one at a time to help.
I’m completely naked now—aside from the torn shirt and bra—while he’s still dressed in his prim suit, and for some reason, that brings up the heat a notch. To make things even more unbearable, he shoves my panties in his pocket. He must have a collection of my vanilla-colored underwear by now, and I keep buying them, the same color, over and over again.
And then his hands are back on me, one gripping me by the waist and the other slipping into my slick opening. “You’re shaking like a leaf after a mere clit orgasm and you think you can take my dick up this tight cunt?”
“I…can try.”
“What if you can’t take it? What if you start crying because it hurts?”
“It’s okay.” My lips are trembling and my throat is so dry, it’s uncomfortable to swallow. “Because you’ll make it feel good afterward. You’ll make me smile after I cry.”
“You’re so sure that I will, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“But you said you’d be my toy, and toys break.”
“Not me.”
A strange look passes over his features as he releases my hip and unbuckles his pants. I can’t help the small gasp that slips out of me.
He’s huge.
I’ve felt his erection against my stomach, my ass, my pussy—everywhere—and I predicted he was probably big, but nothing could have prepared me for the sight in front of me.
His cock is not only long and thick, but it’s also veiny and hard, so hard that my mouth waters and my pussy clenches around his fingers.
There’s a drop of a transparent liquid rolling down the sides and sticking to his hand that’s pumping his length. He’s not gentle, even though he’s slow and I’m caught in a trance by the way he touches himself. So completely in tune that I wish it was my hand, or better yet, my mouth.
“It’s so big,” I murmur breathlessly.
“Did you change your mind? Afraid that my big cock will break your tiny pussy?”
Jeez. He really needs to stop saying things like that or I won’t be able to focus. Screw that, I’m unable to focus anyway.
Or maybe I’m too focused on him, on this moment, and on how that cock will fit inside me.
“I changed my mind. I think it’ll break me.” I bite my lip.
“It will.”
“That’s okay.” I reach a hand to his face, not his shaft, and stroke my cold, sweaty fingers on his stubble. “Because it’s you.”
I can feel the muscles of his jaw tightening beneath my palm and I know he’s at his limit, maybe even more so than me, because he groans. It’s deep and rough and simultaneous to him pulling his fingers out from inside me.
“Now, you’re truly fucked, baby girl.”
I squeal when he lifts me up in the air with one hand beneath my ass. It’s so effortless, as if he’s not carrying a person, and I’m forced to let go of his face to wrap my arms around his neck.