“There’s no one around,” he murmured. “All that pain you keep bottled up inside, Lia. Now would be a good time to try letting it all out.”
I shuddered.
His palm slid up the back of my thigh, warm against my tights. “The funny thing about you, Lia, is how blindly you trust me. You don’t really know me, even though I’m your husband and we share a bed. You just put yourself in my hands and let me do as I please with you.”
I closed my eyes, the metal cool on my cheek.
“Why is that?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
His fingers slid up my short, wool skirt and pushed it over my hips. A moan pulled from me as he slipped my tights down around my thighs, leaving me only in my thin, lace panties.
“Do you trust me, Lia?” His voice was thick with desire.
“Do I trust you not to do what?” I whispered.
“Not to hurt you?”
I hesitated. “I trust you to protect me. Even if it means protecting me from yourself.”
It was impossible to tell how he felt about that, but he didn’t move for a long moment. Then I heard his belt buckle clink and a deep, wild desire surged in my hips. God, there was just something about that sound that made me ache for him to fill the emptiness between my thighs. I moaned softly, working my hips against the cold metal of the hood.
“Tell me you want it,” he said softly.
“I want it,” I breathed.
He slid my panties down and cool air hit my wet pussy.
“You’re so desperate,” he murmured. “Just soaked for me like such a good girl.”
I felt him then, his thick, blunt head against my opening, and I gasped aloud. Hushing me, he stroked down my back and his palm caressed the soft skin of my hip. Coaxing me to relax for him so he could push past my entrance.
“All you have to do is open for me,” he urged. “You’re such a good girl and I know you can take every inch. Just open and let me in.”
He was right. All I had to do was open myself fully for him. All I had to do was take him into me and I could feel that euphoria I had experienced in the stairwell. It was all so simple and so beautiful it almost brought tears to my eyes.
“Look at that,” he breathed, easing in a half inch. “Just relax a little more and I’ll be inside your perfect cunt.”
Yes, God, yes. I soaked in every single word from his lips and they broke me open. Shattering my resistance like glass. My hips arched and he pushed, sliding into me with a harsh gasp. I lay beneath his lean body and tried to breathe through the intense pressure of being filled by him.
His palm rested on the hood just before my face, his lean fingers taut and the veins on his hand standing out. I whimpered and he hushed me and began riding me with short strokes. Trying to loosen me enough to slide the last inch inside.
“My God, feel the way you take me, angel,” he said under his breath.
He’d never called me angel before tonight and it was strange and painfully intimate. I knew it meant more than when he called me kitten—that was a taunt to make me feel small and helpless. But this was something else entirely.
It felt like adoration.
Weakness swept through me. I was stifled with his heat and the rich scent of him. He gripped the nape of my neck and fucked me hard over the hood of his car with the darkness of the woods around us. I went limp as my vision flashed and I squeezed my lids shut, trying to relax my hips. Desperate to take him the way he wanted.
Why did I want to please him so badly? Why did my body turn to water when he did these things to me? I was so weak and desperate for his approval and praise. My God, he made me into a different woman. I’d never needed anyone’s attention the way I craved it from him. There was no better feeling than knowing I had won his approval, that I’d satisfied him.
Was I weak? Pathetic?
Out of nowhere, the tender space in my chest went cold. I needed him to keep praising me through this to keep me out of my head.
“Am I doing what you want?” I whispered, thoroughly ashamed.