“I am going to fuck you so hard,” he said, lowering his face to suck on the side of my neck.
“I thought you said no quick—” I said, gasping loudly when his fingers began to move against my clit and inside me all at once.
“Does this feel like a quickie?” he asked as the tips of his fingers stroked my clit, bringing another orgasm out of me. I cried out again and again.
“No,” I said, my voice barely containing the shrill behind it. He took his fingers out and licked them one by one as he looked down at me. My head was still clouded with what had just happened, but the sight of him licking his fingers, and knowing it was me he was tasting—savoring—with a look of ecstasy on his face that made my core tighten more than it already was. Victor didn’t let me take breaks. He didn’t give me time to sit up and try to please him. Instead, he propped a hand on either side of my head and pushed himself inside me. I screamed, my back arching off the bed. He was so big. I felt so. Fucking. Full.
He paused his movements. I shot him a confused look.
“You okay?” he asked. I nodded wildly.
“More than okay.”
“You sure? You look like you stopped breathing there for a while.”
“I don’t need to breathe. I just need you to fuck me.”
“Yeah?” he asked, his mouth coming down to my ear. “How would you like to be fucked? You want me to go slow?” He pushed in and pulled out slowly. So. Slowly. In and out. In and out.
“Fuck,” I said. “Fuck.” It was the only thing I could make out. It was the only word I could even think.
“You like this?” he asked, his hips moving in and out in a slow, long tempo that had me searching for my next breath.
“Fast.” I gasped. “Hard.”
He groaned, pulling out of me completely, and flipped me over. “Get on your knees.” I did, and shrieked when he slapped my ass hard. “You like that?” he asked, his voice raw. “You like it when I slap your ass like that?”
I whimpered. It’s not that I hadn’t had someone slap my ass before, but the way he did it, the things he said while he did it? I felt like I was going to come right there. I pushed my hips back, wordlessly begging him to fuck me. He grabbed my hips and pounded into me. I shrieked again. This time, he didn’t go slow. He fucked me hard, pumping inside me hard, reaching for my hair and tying it to his hand as he pulled me up. The bite of it felt good. Everything felt so good. I couldn’t even remember what my sex life had been like before that instance. I couldn’t remember how another man felt inside me.
“I’m going to make you come again. And again. And again,” he said as he pulled my hair harder, until my ear was by his mouth. “You’re never going to be able to forget who makes you feel like this.”
“Oh God,” I said, feeling myself tighten around him, feeling the familiar burn of another orgasm forming. “I’m going to come, Victor.”
“You’re fucking mine, Nicole,” he said, thrusting harder.
I groaned, nodding as I tightened around him. “Yes.”
“Say it.”
“My . . .” I gasped when he slapped my ass again. Hard.
“Say. It,” he said through his teeth, slapping my other ass cheek. “Your ass is mine. Your * is mine. Your tits are mine. Fucking say it.”
I did, though my voice was hoarse and my words were quiet. I couldn’t remember him pulling out, or the way he pulled my back to his chest once he came back from throwing the condom away. I couldn’t remember how we fell asleep or what he said to me, but I remembered those words, because I felt him inside me when I woke up before the sun came up and called Marcus to pick me up.
MARCUS’S SILENCE ON the ride home made me uneasy. I could only imagine what a straight-laced guy like him was thinking, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but of course I asked.
“You think I’m a slut,” I said finally, unable to stand the discomfort any longer.
He didn’t respond, not even when I looked over at him and caught him glancing at me quickly.
“You think I’m a slut because I didn’t even wait to finalize my divorce before hooking up with another man.”
At that, I saw the corner of his mouth tilt. “I don’t think that.”
“Why are you so quiet then?”
“I’m always quiet, ma’am.”
“No, you’re not, and you never call me ma’am.”
“Okay. Miss Alessi.”
I glared at him. He didn’t acknowledge me. “Just Nicole, please, unless you’ve decided to go back to being all proper because you think I’m a slut.” Again, no answer. Finally, as we were getting close to my house, he sighed.
“What you do is your business. I don’t think anything less of you.”
“So you’re not mad that I called you before the sun came up?”
He laughed. “That’s my job.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “Thank you, and thank you for not judging.”