33
Emily
David collapses beside me in bed, sweating and panting.
“I can’t keep going like this,” he says between breaths. “You have to give me a break sometimes.” He leans over and kisses me, laying his hand over his chest as if he’s having a heart attack.
I know I’ve gone into overdrive. There is a constant ache between my legs and in my gut. No matter how much we have sex, the yearning is never satisfied. It’s a little flame in my pelvis. I want to tell David there’s something wrong, but I want to make sure he knows it's because of me, not him. Something is wrong with me.
“David?”
“Yes?” He sits up on his elbows and looks at me.
I stare at him for a few moments, feeling the familiar claws of anxiety. It forces my mind to pivot at the last moment.
“I just love you, is all.”
Great job, self.
We are a sweaty, entangled mess. My hair is matted, but so is David’s. He buries his head into my neck and tells me he loves me too.
He runs his hand along the skin of my belly. I feel the snags of imperfection. He doesn’t care. His hand traces down to my thighs. My skin reacts with goosebumps. His touch is electric. He’s something out of a novel. Hard to believe this was the same David I once had to pick up off the floor and breathe life into. Though it kind of surprises me how gentle he is as a lover.
If someone had asked how David Norstar would fuck, I’d never have said like this. I think back to some of his past girlfriends and remember hearing how rough he was. Do we all properly know the definition of rough? And is it terrible that I wouldn’t mind being on the receiving end if my definition is correct?
I look at David’s arms and imagine the strength within the curves of his muscles. The ache deepens. Nope. Now is not the time.
We carry our exhausted, half-dressed bodies into the kitchen to get water. We both grab glasses and fill them at the sink. I drink mine slowly. David takes large gulps, letting the water fall from the sides of his mouth.
“Oh my god. So dramatic.”
I fall backward onto the couch with a sigh. I pick my phone up. My battery is almost dead.
“David? Can you hand me my charger? It’s in the kitchen.”
He walks over and dangles the charger above my head. I reach for it, and he pulls it away. He is so damn tall. I reach for it again, and he yanks it just out of reach. I try to pull him onto the couch, and he holds the black cord over the back of it. I claw at his arms, and we both laugh. I lean over the back of the couch, reaching for the charger and cursing his long arms. He jokingly grabs me by my hip, draws his hand back, and lands a whip of the cord on my ass. I gasp.
What the fuck? But also, what... the... fuck?
I rub my hand across raised lines of skin where the cord struck me. I look at David. He’s nearly popping out of his boxers.
“Would it be weird if I asked you to do that again?” I ask.
David smirks. He stands behind me, places my hands on the back of the couch, and presses my upper body down so my ass is in a better position. He raises the cord. I don’t hear or see anything, but I feel everything. I gasp again.
“Can I do it harder?” he asks.
I nod and bite my lip. Anticipating the pain, I grow oddly excited. The plastic lashes my skin again, stinging harder and faster, seeping through my flesh. I think only about the next whip of the cord, harder and harder until it dissolves into my tissues. The flame in my pelvis grows until it becomes a fire. I ache between my legs, but in a way I have never felt.
“Harder… Please!”
* * *
David
I holdher hip with one hand and whip her again. Pink and purple marks crawl up her skin after each contact. When I retract the plastic, her skin reaches up, inviting me to do it again. Her nerves awaken. I rub my hand along the raised lines. It’s an indistinguishable pattern on her skin. She pulls away slightly before resting back on my hand.
I reach down and adjust myself. I’m painfully hard now. I don’t care that we just got done having sex moments ago. I’m hungry.
I press my hips against Emily’s ass. She must feel my need for her. She bites her lip and winces against my touch as it grazes the raised skin.
I reach my hands up to each of her hips and take her panties along with me as I fall to my knees. I kiss the marks on her. She winces and moans. The body is such a confusing thing. Pain can initiate pleasure, blurring the line between them. I kiss up her back and let my boxers fall to the floor.
I am inside her, and she wiggles against my hips. She is insatiable, I swear. She looks back at me as if she’s going to say something.
“What? Do you want me to stop?”
“No. I want your hands around my throat,” she says softly, almost as if she’s ashamed to make such a request.
I pull back a bit.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Emily.”
I look at her, unsure. She traces down the veins of one of my arms, grabs my wrist, and pulls my hand up towards her neck. I wrap my hand around her throat.
* * *