overpowered and knowing I’m going to get fucked.
“God damn, S-Class,” he whispers. “I want you so fucking bad. I had plans, you know? I was going to spank you until your ass was red all over. I wanted to dig my fingers into the stripes on your ass until you screamed. Now all I can think of is getting inside you.”
Oh, god. He is inside me. He’s got me figured out better than any lover has in my whole life. He’s under my skin and in my head, and I want nothing more than to take him inside my body and rut.
“Do you have a fucking condom?” I growl, my hands clenching in his grip behind my back.
“If I reach for it, will you stay put?”
“Yes.”
He lets go of my wrists, and there’s a rustle of fabric as he strips off his clothes, and then the crinkle of foil. “It’s lubricated, is that enough for you?”
I nod, letting him maneuver me, the side of my face pressing into the intricate carving in the door’s mahogany surface.
It’s not enough lube, the little amount on a condom never is, but the burn of pain as he pushes inside me makes me groan out helplessly. He lets go of my wrists again and grips my ass, sending a current of dull pain through me when his fingers dig into the welts from the caning.
I have to brace myself against the door with my hands as he fucks me hard. He spits into his palm and uses it to jerk me roughly, taking me right up to the edge. I’m wild and alive and so turned on I could scream, need and heat and lust sharpening my senses.
His lips skim my shoulder, gentle and sweet, and the shocking contrast between that touch and the relentless fucking is what tips me over. I lay my head back against him and trust him to hold me up, my limbs shaking as I roar with the release, my body lit up like Christmas in his arms.
He does hold me up, and he doesn’t stop fucking me through it, so strong he can support my weight and drive me into the door at the same time. When he comes, he shouts out my name in a strangled plea for god-knows-what.
We sink to the stone-tiled floor, gasping for breath, our hands clutching at each other in a helpless, instinctual search for closeness. We find our fit: my head on his chest, one of his hands tangled in my hair. The slow descent back to sanity is marked by the heaving of our chests, and my soft laughter—the laughter of the truly well-fucked.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, his own voice tinged with humor.
“That’s me appreciating your prowess,” I mumble against his chest. “Holy everything, that was good.”
He slaps my ass playfully. “Yeah it was.”
“Let’s do it again.” I kiss his nipple and it tightens against my lips.
“In the morning,” he says, his voice firm. “I’m only human, S-Class.”
“You called me Eddie when we were fucking.” I feel somewhat stung by his return to the nickname after what we shared.
“Yeah.” He kisses the side of my head. “Eddie.” It sounds so sweet like that, in his hushed postcoital tone. “Can I sleep in that big, warm bed of yours and beat your ass in the morning, Eddie?”
Fuck, yes.
“I’ll take it as a personal insult if you don’t.” I yawn, stretching alongside him.
“I promise to only insult you before sex.” Chuckling, he stands and ducks into the powder room, I assume to dispose of the condom. When he returns, he hauls me to my feet. “Bedtime, babe. I feel an overwhelming desire to cuddle you senseless.”
I laugh and follow him up the stairs to my bedroom, where I let him do just that.
Wish sleeps in on weekends. His body curls around mine; our legs tangle together. It’s a much nicer way to wake up than to someone doing yoga at the foot of my bed. I roll and stretch, loving the rub of the sheet against my bruised body. We’d woken twice in the night to fuck, and the second time, Wish held me down and slapped my ass until it burned like a witch at the stake. Goddamn, that feels amazing now.
His eyes flutter open, and he smiles at me, so
“God damn, S-Class,” he whispers. “I want you so fucking bad. I had plans, you know? I was going to spank you until your ass was red all over. I wanted to dig my fingers into the stripes on your ass until you screamed. Now all I can think of is getting inside you.”
Oh, god. He is inside me. He’s got me figured out better than any lover has in my whole life. He’s under my skin and in my head, and I want nothing more than to take him inside my body and rut.
“Do you have a fucking condom?” I growl, my hands clenching in his grip behind my back.
“If I reach for it, will you stay put?”
“Yes.”
He lets go of my wrists, and there’s a rustle of fabric as he strips off his clothes, and then the crinkle of foil. “It’s lubricated, is that enough for you?”
I nod, letting him maneuver me, the side of my face pressing into the intricate carving in the door’s mahogany surface.
It’s not enough lube, the little amount on a condom never is, but the burn of pain as he pushes inside me makes me groan out helplessly. He lets go of my wrists again and grips my ass, sending a current of dull pain through me when his fingers dig into the welts from the caning.
I have to brace myself against the door with my hands as he fucks me hard. He spits into his palm and uses it to jerk me roughly, taking me right up to the edge. I’m wild and alive and so turned on I could scream, need and heat and lust sharpening my senses.
His lips skim my shoulder, gentle and sweet, and the shocking contrast between that touch and the relentless fucking is what tips me over. I lay my head back against him and trust him to hold me up, my limbs shaking as I roar with the release, my body lit up like Christmas in his arms.
He does hold me up, and he doesn’t stop fucking me through it, so strong he can support my weight and drive me into the door at the same time. When he comes, he shouts out my name in a strangled plea for god-knows-what.
We sink to the stone-tiled floor, gasping for breath, our hands clutching at each other in a helpless, instinctual search for closeness. We find our fit: my head on his chest, one of his hands tangled in my hair. The slow descent back to sanity is marked by the heaving of our chests, and my soft laughter—the laughter of the truly well-fucked.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, his own voice tinged with humor.
“That’s me appreciating your prowess,” I mumble against his chest. “Holy everything, that was good.”
He slaps my ass playfully. “Yeah it was.”
“Let’s do it again.” I kiss his nipple and it tightens against my lips.
“In the morning,” he says, his voice firm. “I’m only human, S-Class.”
“You called me Eddie when we were fucking.” I feel somewhat stung by his return to the nickname after what we shared.
“Yeah.” He kisses the side of my head. “Eddie.” It sounds so sweet like that, in his hushed postcoital tone. “Can I sleep in that big, warm bed of yours and beat your ass in the morning, Eddie?”
Fuck, yes.
“I’ll take it as a personal insult if you don’t.” I yawn, stretching alongside him.
“I promise to only insult you before sex.” Chuckling, he stands and ducks into the powder room, I assume to dispose of the condom. When he returns, he hauls me to my feet. “Bedtime, babe. I feel an overwhelming desire to cuddle you senseless.”
I laugh and follow him up the stairs to my bedroom, where I let him do just that.
Wish sleeps in on weekends. His body curls around mine; our legs tangle together. It’s a much nicer way to wake up than to someone doing yoga at the foot of my bed. I roll and stretch, loving the rub of the sheet against my bruised body. We’d woken twice in the night to fuck, and the second time, Wish held me down and slapped my ass until it burned like a witch at the stake. Goddamn, that feels amazing now.
His eyes flutter open, and he smiles at me, so
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