His hand comes down seven more times, each a new location, and his palm rubs the sting out after each one. My breath is coming so rapidly that I’m starting to think I really might pass out like he threatened earlier.
Right when I think I can’t take a second more, he helps me flip over and grabs my hips, pulling me until my ass is all but hanging off the bed. I look down and notice that the height of his bed puts my pussy level with his hips. His cock aligns perfectly with my waiting body.
“Not fucking you with a condom, baby. I know you’re clean. You know I’m clean. And I’ll be damned if there is anything between us.”
“No condom. Just fuck me!” I scream when he starts rubbing his cock’s head against my center. Each time the metal of his piercing hits my throbbing clit, I scream again. By the time he finally pushes in, I’m crying.
His balls slap against my ass with the force of his thrust. I bring one hand up and grab his forearm where he’s holding my hips, my nails digging in. I shout loudly when I start to come. He grunts as his movements become uncoordinated.
He pushes in deep and doesn’t move, his chest heaving and his eyes closed tight. I wiggle, trying to get him to move again, but his fingers on my hips dig in and his eyes snap open.
“Don’t fucking move. I’m not going to come in thirty seconds like some teenage shit.”
“You have to move. God, baby, I can feel every inch of you stretching me wide.”
With a grumble, he pulls out a few inches—enough for me to feel his piercings rubbing against my inner walls. When he pushes forward, I feel him hitting even deeper than before.
I pant, beg, and scream for him to move, but he just stands there, breathing roughly and flexing his hips.
When I can’t take it any longer, I rock against him. If he won’t give me what I need, then I’ll just fucking take it.
“You think you can make yourself come ON my dick? Baby, that’s the same thing as using your hands. I make you come. Don’t fucking forget it.”
He pulls almost all the way out before slamming home. Over and over again, he slams roughly into my body. One hand comes off my hips and his thick fingers rub over my clit, teasing me, before he pinches it between his fingers.
On a hiss, I come again, my juices rushing against his rigid flesh. He gives me one hard plunge into my body before throwing his head back and roaring.
Fucking roaring.
The sound of his release making my orgasm roll on and on to the point where I do, in fact, pass out.
Chapter 30—Maddox
Jesus fucking Christ.
I don’t think I’ve come that hard in my life. The feeling of her pussy milking my orgasm from my body was like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
I look down my body to where I’m still planted deep within her warm heat. I can feel our combined releases running down my balls, and my spent cock twitches to life inside her. It takes everything in me to pry my hands from her hips and pull free of her body. My cock is already starting to beg for more of her sweet cunt.
She doesn’t flinch. Not when I release my hold on her hips. Not when I step away from her body—my eyes zeroed in on my cock pulling free. I can see her cream coating me and damned if it doesn’t pump my craving for her up to uncontrollable levels. When the head of my cock leaves her heat, causing a slow rush of our mixed come to leak from her, I have to grab on to the mattress from the head rush it gives me.
Never has sex felt like that. I can’t even deny that it was that intense because of the feelings we have together.
Not even bothering to dress, I move her slack body so that her head is resting on her pillow. Covering her naked body is the last thing I want, but I have a few things I need to take care of before I can climb into bed with her.
Things that I’m finally ready to let go of, thanks to Emmy, and things I want settled before I take her again.
Over the last two months, I feel like I’ve changed as a person. I no longer look at the world thinking that, at any given moment, I will destroy those around me. I look at our close group of friends, people I’ve known for years now, and see that, by knowing me, they haven’t felt my demons. They haven’t been touched—or tainted—by my dark soul. If anything, I can now see the role I’ve played in helping each one of them come together.
That one took a little longer for me to wrap my mind around. Years of thinking one way was warring against the very real truth that I was wrong.
Or, more importantly, that every fucked-up thing my mother had drilled into my head—making me believe without a doubt—was in fact the catalyst in it all. Her hate for me fueled my own self-hate. I carried it around. I owned it. I let her do that to me.
I refuse to let her have that power over me now. I’m worth more than a lifetime of being alone and afraid of myself.
I’m worth Emmy.