“How long do you think you can go?” I laugh at her broken sob. “Too much?”
“Please, I can’t. I can’t!” Her body is telling another story, hips still moving, juices coating my fingers.
“Sure, you can. You can come for me again.”
“I can’t!”
“Then you don’t get fucked.”
“No!” she sobs, making me laugh again.
“Then come for me, Delilah. Come for me.” I bite her again, harder this time, and her back arches before she goes completely still—collapsing against me with a hoarse cry.
I can’t wait anymore. She’s still coming when I plunge inside her, her muscles rippling, pulling me deeper. “Fuck!” I shout into the darkness. She’s tight, even tighter, thanks to her orgasm. And so wet.
“Oh, my god, Lucas!” She bends her knee to spread her legs wider, letting me go even deeper. “Feels so good.”
It does. She does. She feels even better when I slide an arm between the pillow and her neck, closing it around her, holding her tight against my shoulder. I tighten it, and she groans but doesn’t stop moving with me.
I dig my fingers into her hip, holding her still so I can hammer into her. Her moans turn into one long, hoarse cry cut off by my tightening forearm.
“Yes, that’s right,” I gasp, pumping faster, breathing heavily in her ear. She barely has enough room to breathe, and her pussy’s getting tighter, and my balls tighten with it. “You wanted to get fucked, didn’t you?”
Her tits bounce in time with my thrusts, faster and faster. Sweat begins rolling over my forehead, but I take her harder still, slamming into her, and now her pussy begins to tighten again. Her breathless cries turn to squeals before I tighten my grip on her neck, cutting off her air.
And she comes explosively, jerking hard despite my hold on her hip. I release her, letting her gulp in air while I pull out and fist my cock feverishly until I spray cum across her ass.
“Fuck, yes.” She’s still quivering and moaning while I empty my balls, my cum running over the curves of her cheeks. “Yes, Delilah.”
She groans softly in response, limp, probably exhausted after coming so hard and so many times. If she thought my performance in the kitchen was good, what must she think now?
I don’t say a word before rolling off the bed and heading for the bathroom. It’s easier to see her once I flip on the light in there. She’s still flushed, making the cum stand out in contrast. I wet a washcloth and take it to her.
She flinches at my touch. “Relax,” I whisper while I wash her clean.
Her voice is small. “That was…”
“Intense?” I offer. She nods, her face still turned away from me. “It seemed that way.”
“But it was good, too.”
“I figured that out, as well.” Once I’ve finished, I toss the cloth into the hamper and kill the bathroom light. By the time I climb into bed, she’s on her back again. “Get some sleep.”
“Can you untie my wrists now?”
“No. Just go to sleep.” After the fucking I gave her, I’m surprised she’s still conscious. Eventually, she’s going to learn there are only so many requests I can handle before I blow up.
She sighs heavily but gives up the fight. For a long time, there’s nothing but the sound of our breathing and the ceiling above me, barely visible in the light from the alarm clock at my side. I don’t know why it feels important to stay awake until she’s asleep. I only know I can’t close my eyes until she’s out.
Finally, her breathing evens, slowing down. Once she begins softly snoring—I wonder if she knows she does it—I can relax.
If it were only that easy.
She was trouble for me before this. Now I know what it feels like inside her. How eager she is to be used. How she likes it when I get rough. How tight her pussy is when she’s coming on my cock. And I don’t know if I can go back to a life where fucking her isn’t an option.
What am I supposed to do now?