“I want you,” I said. “God I want you.” I arched my back, shoving my ass hard up against him as his thumb slipped against my clit.
“What do you want?” he asked, fucking me harder with his finger, his knuckles hitting the edge of my most tender flesh. He was driving me crazy, making me hotter and more desperate for him to just bend me over and plunge his cock inside me, bury himself to the hilt.
“I want you to fuck me,” I said.
“I am,” he said, a hint of a smile in his voice.
“I want your dick,” I said, growing desperate. One strong arm still circled around my chest, and I clung to it, my finger nails digging into his upper arm as I shoved back again, my ass grinding up against him.
I wanted him to never stop what he was doing with this hand, and I wanted him to stop now and plunge into me, stretch me in the way I craved.
A groan ripped free, a guttural sound I hardly recognized as my own, and then his finger slipped out of me, and I felt his strong hand on my shoulder, pushing me down.
My knees were sore already from the tightly-woven, rough Berber carpet, but I couldn’t’ bring myself to care.
With both palms flat against the carpet, I arched my back, looking over my shoulder at him.
He was holding his big cock in his hand, pumping it up and down and staring at me with his bottom lip bitten between his teeth, his muscles taught, like he was barely holding onto this thin control.
I wiggled my hips, watching the desire burn brighter in his eyes.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said.
“I have an idea,” I leaned back, bumping my ass against him, the tip of his cock teasing along my slit.
He groaned, his grip on his dick tightening, his hand moving to position him along my opening.
Without any warning, he shoved into me, his cock filling me, straining me, almost painful. Or maybe it was a result of all the rough times before, all the times he’d driven me to madness. But as he plunged harder, pulled back and thrust again, my skin stretched and strained, struggling to hold him comfortably.
It was like he was made for someone else, someone he could fit comfortably inside, because this angle was nearly painful.
“God I love you,” he said.
It was like a fire ignited. An explosion of emotion and lust, all rolled into one. He thrust harder into me, and I knew he didn’t even recognize his own words.
And maybe they were meaningless. He’d lost his reason, lost his logic, and had turned animalistic in his desperation to find his release.
I shoved his words out of my mind—knowing what he’d said was meaningless. But god, did I want him to mean it. Did I need him to mean these words, spoken in the heat of the moment, lost to the groans and the sound of our skin on skin, the sound of his thrusts.
His hands gripped my ass, one finger sliding along my backside, teasing along my other opening.
The tip of his finger pressed against me, and I bucked forward, not prepared for that.
His hands gripped me tighter, not allowing me to move away.
“You said,” he fucked me harder, “You wanted me everywhere.”
My fingernails dug into the carpet, but there was nothing to grip. I was anchorless, at his mercy.
He picked me up, pulling me against his body again, his dick still inside me, the angle of it pressing into a place that made me gasp.
“Another time,” he said, as if sensing my hesitance. I’d never done that. And his mood… how angry and rough he was being, I wasn’t sure I could handle it. “Your pussy feels too good to want anything else.”
I tipped my head back on his shoulder, twisting so that he could kiss me. We were on our knees again, bodies pressed together.
He kissed me hard and hot, and then broke the caress.
And then suddenly I was pushed down to the floor again, but this time not allowed to stay on hands and knees. I was flat on the ground, my arms stretching above my head, my stomach flat on the ground.
He moved, his legs now on the outside of mine, my thighs nearly pressed together. His torso and chest pressed against my back side, his arms pressing my own down.
I tried to arch my back, tried to push back against him, give him better access, but it was impossible. I was face down on the floor, his entire bodyweight pressing me into the ground, at his mercy.
I knew that if I said something—told him to get off of me—that he would. But the reality of his strength, his weight, the idea that if I refused him and he didn’t listen, I could do nothing—somehow turned me on. He was too big to physically resist, if it came down to it. I was pinned to the floor underneath him.
I was his, and I trusted him, had given him control in every way. His legs straddled mine, his arms held mind down, and he plunged into me, rougher each time, the carpet raking against my skin. My nipples prickled at the sensation of the rough carpet.
His knees must’ve hurt too, but he didn’t seem to care, only seemed focused on fucking me as hard he as he could, forcing me to the edge until I cried his name.