My mouth dried at the sight of his cock. Long, thick, and hard, with a bead of pre-cum glistening at its tip. It was so big that I involuntarily clenched at the thought of it filling me.
The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and his thumb found my clit again, circling and stroking until it was swollen and needy and begging for more.
“How would you like to be fucked, Butterfly?” He kept his thumb on my clit and pushed a finger inside me, working it deeper with each movement. A whimper clawed up my throat as my body lit beneath his erotic manipulations. “On your back and spread wide, or on all fours taking every inch of my cock in that tight little pussy?”
Had I not been lost in a haze of lust, I might’ve been embarrassed by his filthy words. But I was too far gone, and Christian was the only man I’d ever truly fantasized about.
He was every dark thing that couldn’t be whispered and dirty deed that I secretly craved.
“Both.” More whimpers poured out when he worked another finger inside me and pumped both in and out—slowly at first, then faster and faster until he found a rhythm that made my head spin. “As hard as you can.”
I heard a groan, followed by a harsh command.
“Get on your hands and knees.”
I did as I was told. The cool air brushed my sensitized sex as I turned and positioned myself on all fours. I was drenched, dripping all down my thighs and probably ruining the sheets before we even started.
I heard the faint rip of foil before the heat of Christian’s body enveloped me. He fisted my hair with one hand and gripped my hip with the other hard enough to bruise.
“Remember…” I let out a small cry when he yanked my head back until his mouth was next to my ear. The head of his cock slid against my slick entrance, until I practically panting with anticipation. “You wanted it hard.”
He released my hair, pushed me face down on the pillow, and slammed inside me with a single powerful thrust.
I let out a small cry. I was wet enough that he slid in easily, but he was so big it was almost painful.
Pain warred with pleasure as my eyes watered and my inner muscles stretched to their max.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” Another, more guttural groan. “That’s it, sweetheart. You can take it.”
Christian held on tight to my hips and stroked his thumbs over the curve of my ass in soothing sweeps while I struggled to accommodate his size.
My breaths came out in soft pants. I was impossibly full, but gradually, the pain subsided and gave way to delicious pressure.
My teeth unclenched enough for a low moan to slip out.
I pushed back at him, desperate for more.
More friction, more movement, more anything.
I heard a chuckle, followed by a soft “good girl”.
Then Christian slammed into me again, this time with such viciousness it knocked the breath out of my lungs.
I squealed, my mind blanking at the sudden, forceful invasion. Dark pleasure burst through me, and I barely had time to catch my breath before he started moving again.
One hand stayed on my hip while the other pressed against the back of my neck, forcing my face deeper into the pillow.
Rough hands.
Savage strokes.
A punishing, carnal rhythm that coaxed moan after moan out of my mouth.
“You feel so fucking good,” Christian grunted. “It’s like your pussy was made for me. Every fucking inch.”
He withdrew so just the tip remained inside me, paused, then plunged back in with one brutal thrust. Again and again, until the headboard banged against the wall and drowned out my muffled squeals and whimpers.
Tears and drool soaked my pillow as Christian pounded me mercilessly. I’d been reduced to a wreck, held together with nothing but mind-numbing pleasure and the softest pricks of pain.
It wasn’t sex. It was pure, hard fucking...and it was exactly what I needed.
The guys I’d previously slept with had treated me like I was a porcelain doll in bed. Their intentions were good, but the sex had excited me as much as a game of golf.
I didn’t want gentle. I wanted passion in its rawest form. I wanted the oblivion that came with pleasure and the knowledge that, no matter what form that pleasure came in, I could trust the person delivering it not to hurt me.
Because as rough as Christian was, I’d never felt safer.
Another cry fell from my lips when he wrapped his fist around my hair and yanked my head back again.
“You’re dripping all over my cock, sweetheart. Look at you.” He swept his thumb over my damp cheek. I was a mess, my face streaked with tears and my body trembling with lust. “An angel about to come from being fucked like a whore.”
An electric shiver moved through my entire body at his words.
“Please,” I sobbed. “I need—I can’t—please…”
I didn’t know what I was begging for. For release, for him to go harder, for this never to end.
All I knew was, he was the only one who could give it to me.
“Please what?” Christian kept one hand fisted in my hair while he reached his other around to my sensitized sex.
“Please, I need to…”