And he’s in.
My brain short circuits as he fills me, that brief sweet moment of ecstasy as his cock enters me making my head swim with pure bliss.
I want him to use me; to take what he wants; to pound me and punish me until he’s spent and I’m a twisted rag-doll of broken lust, unable to speak, move, or form coherent thoughts. I want to be his, in every way. To be owned, and claimed by him. Then he thrusts as he holds my hips and the night bursts with a light that fills the dark behind my eyes and sends me spinning into the void.
I can feel every inch of him as he pulls back out, every vein and ridge and the shape of his bulging head, and it feels incredible.
‘Moan for me, Mackenzie,’ he says. ‘I want to hear how good my cock feels inside you.’
I’ve only ever been with three men before, and each one of them satisfied me in their own way. They weren’t selfish or even bad in bed. They just weren’t Blake.
‘Yes, sir,’ I whisper.
He thrusts again and I moan hard into the duvet, gripping the silk sheets so tight with my knuckles that it hurts, my whole body undulating in time with his like we’re in sync.
I feel his hand slide up my spine beneath the thin folds of my nightie, all the way up to the back of my neck where he sweeps beneath my hair and caresses me, then he takes my ponytail in his palm and pulls it tight as he leans in close, pinning me down as he thrusts and thrusts, harder and harder, and with every push he grows within me, and then I’m speaking, my words a desperate gush as my climax rushes me.
‘Come inside me,’ I beg, and the world spins, and the lights become a kaleidoscope of colour and my insides burn with pleasure as I come, and a heartbeat later he moans loud into my ear, and I feel myself fill with his warm and perfect seed.
Yes. Oh, yes.
Throb after twitching throb floods me, our bodies tight and close, covered in sweat and desperation, warm and tangled as he softens and breathes.
I quiver in his grasp.
Enveloped in his warmth.
Swimming with his love.
And never have I felt safer.
I feel his hands run along my arms, and then ever so carefully, his weight shifts and I’m free and smiling, my cheeks flushed and my eyes closed. I whimper with loss as he pulls out, his sticky mess trickling down the soft skin of my thigh as he stands.
I sense him there, looking down on me, breathing hard. Then he walks backwards, buckling his jeans, and as he reaches the door he fumbles with the handle, opens it, and steps through.
And just like that, he’s gone.
*
Fuck.
Guilt and shame cut deep into my chest like an iron maiden, the hot metal spikes gouging through my heart as I stumble down the corridor and away from my own room.
What have I done?
I took it too far. I never should have come home. I should’ve stayed the night, fucked that girl, whatever her name was, and left in the morning like I was supposed to.
But seeing Mackenzie like that? In my room, dressed in that tight little nightie, her angel skin glowing in the moonlight, her eyes bright like a siren, calling to me after I caught her trespassing; defying my rules and going wherever the hell she pleases, reading my diary, invading my goddamn private thoughts.
I made sure she understood there would be consequences, and she understood that too. She climbed up onto my bed all by herself, pulled down her panties and begged.
My mouth goes dry as I picture her before me again, bent over, waiting for my hand, and I can feel my dick stirring in my pants again.
Fuck.
She wanted me to do it, to discipline her, to make her feel pain for her indiscretions, and then begged for me to fuck her afterwards. My stomach twists and my chest thrums.
God, she felt so good…