by Olivia Fox
“Make me,” he says, toying with the dildo still lodged inside me. “Tell me something I want to hear, and I might just thank you for it?"
"What? What kind of thing?” I’m frantic now, so charged with the urge to come around his big, swollen dick. “Like that you've got a huge cock?"
"Try harder."
"And it's the most beautiful thing I ever saw, and I'm burning for you to fuck me with it…”
“More.”
Oh man, this isn’t fair. “And the first time I saw you get a stiffy for me, I had such an urge to touch it that I accidentally-on-purpose knocked a display of cock-rings over, just so I’d have something else to do with my hands.”
His groan surrounds me as he slides in deep, straight to the hilt in one firm thrust. Forcing his way in, alongside the toy. I’m under-siege. Stuffed to bursting and totally at his mercy. I’m riding on the brink of orgasm, my juices flowing slick down my thighs as I shake with the need to come.
“I remember that well,” he pants. “You spent the next five minutes bent over with your arse wriggling in the air. I nearly shot my load just watching you. OK - good - what else?” And he slows right down, grinding too leisurely for my release.
Oh, God, have mercy! “OK - OK - last Christmas, when we had that conversation… when I had that conversation…”
“What about it?” He’s stopped thrusting at all now, and I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have brought this up. Oops.
“Well - remember how I said I was still seeing other people? And I told you not to start getting attached?”
He doesn’t answer, but his cock twitches inside me.
“I lied. I wasn’t seeing anyone. I haven’t wanted anyone else for a long time, Harry.”
For a second, I wonder if he’s heard me. Then he’s withdrawing everything at once - pulling his cock from my cunt then the toy from my butt, leaving me empty and bereft. But not for long.
He unties my wrists and removes the blindfold, then he’s cradling me in his arms, and we’re off. He’s kicking open the door, striding toward the bedroom at speed, the tip of his erection nudging my side as we go.
I think he’s going to throw me down caveman style, but he doesn’t. He lays me down so carefully on the cool sheets, studying me with such a wild sparkle in his eyes, that I think I must have morphed into some precious artifact. I’m the Holy Grail, that must be it. And here’s Indiana Jones, ready to claim me.
He nips at my lips, then trails languid kisses down my neck. His mouth surrounds one hard peaked nipple and he sucks me deep into his mouth, spearing electric pulses straight to my wanton cunt.
And then he smiles. “Alright, Em. Carrot time.”
I can’t remember ever having laughed so hard while being fucked. It’s not even his dumb line that sends me over into giddy hysteria. It’s the relief that does it. The overwhelming joy of not having to keep him at arms length. I’m letting him in and he’s taking all of me, not just the physical bits I let him have before.
And once we’ve thrashed out our orgasms, that’s what hits me most. I’m taken. But that’s fine, because I’ve taken him too.
I own you, boss. Oh, yes - I like the sound of that.
*****
I'm nearly asleep when an odd sensation wakes me. Harry's shuffling in the bed, clamping my left hand in an awkward position, fiddling with my fingers. A gentle scratching tugs at my skin, too light to hurt but odd enough to puzzle me. "You drawing on me?" I murmur, paralyzed by drowsiness. But Harry just chuckles.
A minute or so later he kisses my hand and tucks it under the duvet. His naked body nestles in behind me, pressing us gently together, his arm draping over me like a human seatbelt. And safe in his warmth, I drift steadily, easily, into unconsciousness.
*****
I wake before Harry. Earlier than I usually would. I'd trained fuck-buddy-Harry to rouse me with tea, but lazy-lover-Harry is so much better. This Harry is very much asleep and has no choice but to let me gawk. And gawk I do.
He's far from magazine-perfect, my Harry. His nose is probably a little big, his lashes a bit pale, and his shaving habits leave a lot to be desired. Yet somehow all those imperfections are perfect in their own right. And he's so relaxed right now, this big, rough, stubbly lover of mine. He's so content, his strong features so beautifully defined that it's impossible to resist brushing my fingertips across a well-sculpted cheekbone.
That's when I see it. An arrow stretches across my left hand, drawn in Biro, pointing toward my ring finger. And by the arrow there's a message: Don't freak out.
I think, at first, that he's drawn a ring on my finger, but no. When I look closely it's more than that. He's written something. Two words curl around my finger and it takes a moment to decipher them... new arrangement.
I should be freaking out. We've been together - properly together - for all of twelve hours. But the freak-out isn't coming. Instead I’m smiling so damned wide my cheeks are going to cramp, and I barely resist shaking Harry awake to yell ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ in his probably shell-shocked face.
But I don’t have to tell him yes. Harry lifts a sleepy eyelid and sees my silly grin, and he knows my answer. Sorry Amy, but I got it wrong - I am good, after all. Good enough for him. Good enough for me.
And this new arrangement of his… well that sounds pretty effing good too.
Table of Contents
The Arrangement (Erotic Novella)
Midpoint