He presses his weight on top of me, squeezing my face in his hand, his lips tinted with diluted blood. Through gritted teeth, his throbbing cock pressing against me, he confesses, “If you leave, I'll have to kill you, Vesp. I don't want to do that. Don't make me do it.”
He's killed me a thousand different ways. Stolen countless breaths and hopes. Slaughtered the girl who had plans to marry a nice doctor. Killed the dream of helping people for a living. Snuffed a piece of her soul by pulling her out of her little brother's life. Pillaged her pride. And out of those tiny little deaths, someone else has been born. Someone who sees that underneath his threats, there is vulnerability. He's begging me not to leave. It's not romantic or laced with syrupy sweet words. No, it's wrapped in barbed wire and cutting threats. But at its center is something he is protecting, something I have found a way to reach in and touch, even if it means being sliced and pricked along the way.
“Then tell me—show me—who you are,” I answer against his lips.
He grips my wet hair and pulls it taut so that my neck tenses. “I am—” He bites my neck, my collarbone, my shoulder. “I am—” He glides his tongue against my nipple, grazing the swollen bud with his teeth. “I am—” he works his way down my stomach running his teeth and lips against the spot that holds our creation.
My clit throbs, hoping to be next. To feel his hot mouth contrast the cool water evaporating off of the sensitive flesh.
He yanks my legs open. “I am—” he bites my inner thigh, sending shooting pain up to my center, followed by electric aftershocks.
“Tell me,” he commands, “who you are,” hovering his mouth over my pussy. Taunting with heavy breaths that match mine.
I don't know who I am anymore. I've been torn apart and pieced back together so many times, I don't recognize this pregnant woman lying naked on a shore, fucking with abandon like a forest animal.
So I say the only thing I am certain of. The only thing that is completely true at this moment. The fact I am resigned to. There are many things that are uncertain, but there is one thing that is sure.
“I'm yours,” I rasp.
He tugs on one of my lips, plump and waiting to be relieved of the tension building between my thighs.
“Again,” he grits.
“I'm yours,” I gasp.
The words light him like a fuse and he glides the tip of his tongue between the threshold of my opening, toying with his property.
“Again,” he murmurs.
“I'm yours,” I chant breathlessly.
He runs the point of his tongue along my clit. I let out a moan, so he does it again. I try to wrap my legs around him, but he pushes them open again, reminding me who belongs to whom. He pushes them back, exposing my lower half entirely to him. Like meat on a spit, I am presented to him for his consumption.
His lips and mouth lap me up, the sounds of his mouth fucking me contrasting the patterns of nature in the background.
My moans elevate, my breath catches in my throat, as he buries his face in my ass and pussy. And then he stops just short of relief.
I watch him helplessly as he rises to his knees, his cock tall and ready, and takes me by the waist, flipping me onto my stomach. The cold, smooth pebbles shock the skin of my breasts and stomach. He pulls me up on all fours, the hard rocks banging up my knees and digging into my palms.
“You're right, Vesp. I've wanted you since I saw you. I could taste your cunt before I ever put my mouth to it. I could feel you wrapped around my cock before I ever fucked you. I could see your pretty eyes looking up at me while your mouth was wrapped around my dick, before you ever swallowed my cum.”
He rubs the head of his cock along my pussy, already blooming for him, pulsing like a heartbeat.
“And I thought I could have you once and it would make the hunger stop. But each dose just makes me crave you more. And the more I have the more I want.”
He presses the tip of his head inside of me and pulls out. We both groan and heave together at the promise of what's to come.
“I'm losing control, Vesp.” He rubs his hand between my legs and rubs his own cock, using my cream to stroke himself.
“Who am I?” he asks in that voice, dirty and broken. “I am the person who has nothing to lose but you.”
He pushes himself inside of me, and even though I am ready, it is so sudden and hard, I nearly cry as I gasp.
“I am a man who has risked everything to have you.”
He pulls out slowly and plunges into me again.
“You are the only thing, Vesp.”
He draws himself out and buries himself inside of me.
“And you…are my obsession.”