“Tell me you trust me,” he whispers.
“You know that I do.”
“Tell me I can take you however I want to.”
I close my eyes and pull my lips into a smile. “Oh, yes.”
“I’m going to make you shatter, Nikki,” he says, as he takes one hand from my breast. He slips it between my legs, urging my thighs apart as he teases my sex with his fingers. “I want to feel my hands on you when you explode, and I want to know that I’m the one who gave that to you. Every breath, every ripple of pleasure, every ache in your cunt, every bite mark on your back. Me. I did that.”
My body shudders simply from the words and the anticipation of their fulfillment.
“Hold on to the side of the pool,” he orders, and as soon as I comply, he shifts his position and enters me from behind, gently at first, and then with a hard thrust that makes me gasp as water sloshes around us and my vagina clenches around him. I’m sore, but it doesn’t matter. I shift my hips, wanting more and more of him. One of his hands seeks to soothe my need for an additional touch, and it snakes around, finding my breast, squeezing my nipple so hard that it makes my sex clench even tighter around him. And then fingers are teasing their way down, down, until he brushes over my clit and I bite my lower lip in the expectation that, yes, he is going to let me come.
But not yet. This is Damien’s show, Damien’s game. And he is playing by his rules tonight.
Soon, he has withdrawn his cock from my vagina and his hand from my clit. I am bereft, lost without his touch, and I turn in his arms, intending to beg, then grateful to realize that I don’t have to, because he’s pulling me to him once again, demanding that I rise up, that I let the water do the work, that I wrap my legs around him and sink down deeper and deeper on his cock.
His hands on my ass support me, and I gasp in surprise and pleasure as he slides one finger down to our connected bodies, then rims my anus with a finger slick with pool water and my own arousal.
“Everywhere, Nikki.” There is a rawness in his voice. A need that seems to edge close to desperation, and as he speaks, he thrusts forward with his hips, at the same time pulling me down, impaling me hard against him even as his finger slips inside my ass.
I am impossibly full and the erotic sensation of having both his cock and finger inside me is almost more than I can handle. But Damien is relentless, and the force of his pounding has edged us backward so that my back scrapes hard against the pool’s edge and the water is as wild as a stormy sea.
“Forever,” he growls. His voice is rough, his actions more so. His thrusts are deep and violent. He is pounding into me, thrusting me wildly against the edge of the pool, my bare back scraping against the stone coping. Between my already sore sex, the assault on my back, and the tender flesh that his finger is so brutally invading, yes, he is hurting me.
I bite my lip because I don’t want to cry out. I don’t know why he needs this, but I know that he does.
Before he was gentle. Even his spanks were inflicted only for the purpose of pleasing me. This, however, is about Damien. Damien taking. Damien needing. It is me that he needs, and I give myself willingly. I am no stranger to pain. It gives me control, something tangible to hold on to. And I can take Damien’s pain and pull it tight inside me like a precious thing.
I think I understand what Damien needs. Not the pain, but the control. He needs to claim me. Maybe he can’t grab hold of the ghosts from his past that have returned to haunt him, but he has me. Right now, I am his to touch and possess. His to claim and use.
His. Simply Damien’s.