I’m breathing heavily, feeling no different than a doll in his hold. I love being the subject of his desire. I love how he can’t touch me enough or get his hands on every part of me enough.
He releases me but only so he can do a quick job of tugging his shirt free and kicking away his shorts. He also went commando, and for some reason, that causes my temperature to rise.
I can’t help raking my gaze over the inked ridges of his biceps, the rippling of his chest muscles, and the pulsing of his hard, thick cock.
A sense of apprehension goes through me. It doesn’t matter how many times I see it, touch it, suck it, or am fucked into oblivion by it. Jeremy has a huge cock that hurts every time it’s inside me. The good type. The pleasurable type.
But I still have that moment of doubt anyway.
A minute of silence stakes its claim between us and he looks at me like he’ll feast on my flesh. Under the dim light of my side table lamp, his eyes appear nearly black, hungry with lust and other raw emotions.
Desire.
Possessiveness.
Obsessiveness.
Adoration.
The last is merely a hint, but I see it. I saw it earlier, too, at the dinner table when he told Mum that I listened to him like no one else has.
I saw a feeling I’d never dreamed of associating with a hard, cold man like Jeremy. A feeling that I would sell my left kidney for at the prospect of witnessing it again.
And here it is once more, so soon and under different circumstances.
The moment of silence comes to a crashing halt when he removes my shirt with one savage tug and throws it aside. His fingers splay out on the back of my neck and he kisses me.
No, heclaimsme.
His kiss is both of adoration and possessiveness. A flickering emotion that alternates between softness and harshness. He slams the front of my body against his, crushing my breasts with his chest and stabbing my stomach with his cock.
It’s not pretty. It’s not nice. It’s animalistic and intense. It’s a clashing of teeth, a stamp of ownership, and proof to the changing of our dynamics.
When we started with sex, chasing, and kinks, he never kissed me. We merely used each other for our sexual needs. We fed off one another’s depraved tendencies and drew each other’s blood. We both ran—me to be chased, him to hunt. But maybe that’s not the only reason. Maybe we were also running from the feelings we saw in each other’s eyes.
What we shared all those months ago couldn’t have been only physical. At least, it wasn’t for me.
Maybe it wasn’t for him either, because ever since we got back together, Jeremy always kisses me before, during, and after fucking me. Sometimes, he kisses me for the duration of it.
He, too, is probably telling me that it’s never been physical for him either. He couldn’t have gotten those releases and satisfaction if it were anyone else but me.
Or that’s what I hope.
He wrenches his lips from mine but speaks against them as he grabs my arse, fingers digging in the flesh. “I’m going to claim this hole tonight, Lisichka. It’s going to be mine, too, like your cunt, your mouth.You.”
That sense of apprehension about his size returns. He’s always played with and fingered my back hole, but he’s never gone beyond that. It’s hard when he fucks me in the pussy. I don’t think I’m physically able to take him in the arse.
But, on the other hand, I want him to own every part of me, too.
Sometimes I wish he was chasing me, taking me against my will in our twisted play. That way, my busy brain wouldn’t have a say in it.
“A-are you going to hurt me?”
His fingers thread in my hair, pulling, twisting, keeping me in place. “Probably.”
I shudder, my heart nearly falling to my feet from the nerves. “Take it by force.”
“By force?”