by Jenn Marlow
Fucking teasing her.
She moaned against him, her lips falling agape in amazement. He put his drenched fingers in his mouth and tasted her sweetness. It was delectable, and it caused a hunger to spark within the darkest parts of his belly and ignite a fire that he hadn’t known before. With a growl, he dove his fingers back inside of her, making sure to bring back more of her with them when he pulled out again.
She tasted like something he had before, but he couldn’t quite place it the first time. It wasn’t until he soaked his fingers in her wetness and tasted them that he was able to distinguish it. It tasted like honeysuckles infused with a stout tea. His cock strained, and he was ready to be in her once again. He ached for it; his stiffness throbbed and bounced up and down with vigor, nearly unable to contain the urge to plunge himself inside her.
He wanted her again; he wanted to own her again; keep her to himself—forever. He needed to. He needed to possess her body completely—if even for just a moment until she collapsed in complete and utter satisfaction. He needed to distract her, anything to get her mind off of whatever just happened between the two of him. He wanted to reiterate what she was, what he was to her, but he also wanted her to enjoy what was happening to her.
He took care of what belonged to him after all, and he wanted to take care of her. But he also didn’t want to do it if she wasn’t his in ownership. That would be a romantic relationship; and he couldn’t bear to be in one of those. A sex and master relationship—that’s what he could deal with. And, despite being a very rich man, it was all that he could afford to give.
By the time Roland finally ceased his fingers’ ministrations, Alex had almost forgotten why they were in this state to begin with. It felt good; that’s all she knew. She had forgotten what had transpired to get to the point until she felt Roland’s first lust-filled thrust from behind her. She thought that’s what she wanted, to finally have his heated cock inside her throbbing core, but it hurt.
She was wet, but it still hurt. And it wasn’t what she wanted. Doggy-style wasn’t the position she quite had in mind. Her ass displayed to him once again was not what she had in mind. Roland slapped her ass once again, as he thrust out of her—and with all his might.
She cringed from the pain, knowing that a welt was likely going to flare up the next day. She only hoped she wouldn’t have any issues sitting because she knew that the next day she would have to try and fix things with her brother, and she definitely didn’t want to explain why she couldn’t sit properly.
Though the pain seared throughout her entire body, the same pleasure as before mingled within the stings. He thrust in again even harder than before. And then he repeated. In. Out. In. Out.
He fucking plunged into her like a jack-hammer. “Fuck!” she screamed, barely able to get the word out in any sort of coherent format. The thrusts had been banging her against the floor with so much force that she was losing her breath with every pump of his cock.
He worked his hips relentlessly from behind her, allowing her no respite. “Do you know how good you feel?” His voice was dark once again, and the words dripped from his mouth like silk, smooth and glorious. However, it was also hot— so very hot. “God, your fucking pussy is clenched around my cock like a vice-grip.”
He pounded her even deeper; and she screamed. The sensations were almost too much, almost too painful. “You feel so good. It’s fucking hot, wet, tight deliciousness,” he whispered, bending down to her ear, the heat radiating throughout her entire body.
The words had her stomach rippling in pleasure, and she knew that she was enjoying it. Hell, she fucking loved it when he spoke in a menacing tone during sex. It was dirty; it was new; it was exciting.
Usually.
This time, she wanted something else.
She panted and dug her nails into the wood floor, the crackling sounds of the two surfaces rubbing one another was terrible to her, a mood-killer almost, but it was strangely pleasant to him. The crisp sound of the wood being scratched and even the possibility of it being damaged forever by their animalistic fucking seemed to arouse him even further. He wasn’t sure how…and he wasn’t sure why…but it did. He did love his trophies after all. What better trophy or war-story than to see the evidence of a woman as sexy as Alex being fucked like the slave she was in the middle of the foyer?
He would be reminded of this conquest every time he came home, or even grabbed a bowl of fucking cereal, went to the bathroom from the living room, or anything else for that matter. It’d always be there. Even when people were around. His trophy would be there for all to behold in its gleaming glory. It excited him, and he felt blood rush more fully to his engorged cock and felt it grow even more in stiffness. He wasn’t sure how it was even fucking possible. But it happened.
He struggled for a tighter grip on her hips, as he drilled repetitively into her river-flowing center. A slick glistening of sweat had formed across the length of both of their bodies. They were getting slippery.
Her breathing hitched, and she wanted to turn around. She wanted to look up into his eyes, and she tried to speak—to vocalize her desire—but the words wouldn't come out. Instead, all that escaped her lips were hushed pants and moans of pleasure and pain. She was still so speechless. All she could think about was him—and how he was making her feel both physically and emotionally. And she wasn’t exactly sure what any of it was. It all felt good, yet so terribly bad at the same time.
On one hand, she loved to be fucked. On the other hand, she loved experiencing the more tender-love-making side. He had seemingly opened up both worlds for her; and she wondered how. She wasn’t a fucking virgin, after all, but with Roland it was different. It was one crazy-lust-filled-roller-coaster of a good time, and then it was whatever was happening earlier; and neither of those experiences were ever mirrored by another man before.
And when she continued to weigh on her confusion, she found that again on one hand she was scared, beyond scared even. To let him see her for her, the real her? That was beyond terrifying. Hell, she was even scared to see him for him. But on the other hand, she felt like they were somehow destined to find one another. Two lonely hearts—so full of thorns and bitter to the touch—could only hope to bloom with sweetness in the embrace of the other. It made sense why she was falling, and it made sense why he was letting himself open up. It all had made sense—at least to her. To him though, it obviously had been less clear.
His hand found its way to her ass, and he began to squeeze the soft flesh of her cheeks. Perky and round, his hands seemed awestruck. He was almost like a small boy in a toy store, as he worked and played with her full-mounded bottom.
“Fuck, yes…” he trailed, his speech coming out in a shuddered spurt of vocalization. He was losing control, and she could tell. She was making this man, this narcissistic sexual deviant, turn into a quivering mess. And she was witnessing it. If he wasn’t going to allow her the pleasure of looking into his eyes as he gave himself to her and lost all control, then by God she was going to make him lose control in another way. She smiled and arched her ass up into the air even further, driving him deeper and deeper inside.
Roland groaned, moving her enough to capture her mouth and kissing her hungrily. His thrusts still deep and hard, never faltering. They were so deep and so hard that they only elicited wild, instinctual, primitive cries from Alex. Each thrust pressed Alex into the floor roughly, drawing sharp cries from her throat. Her screams only seemed to encourage Roland more though. The more she groaned the harder the thrusts became.
It wasn’t like it was unwelcomed necessarily. In fact, she was just still so confused by it all. It felt good. It felt damn good. And normally, this would have been exactly what she craved…at least, after she had realized that it was what she craved. But this time, she had been getting something more from him, and that’s what she wanted. She felt cheated, like the moment she seemed to treasure had been suddenly ripped away from her because he obviously didn’t feel the same.
/> She was confused in her feelings because she knew he cared for her, but he refused to show it. In fact, he seemed to obliterate the moment as if it never happened, as if he didn’t care at all. Despite all of this though, despite her anger, despite her emotional disappointment, Alex felt herself getting closer to the edge. She felt herself reaching her peak. She felt the pressure building and the pleasure increasing. She felt herself shuddering and arching with each thrust.
“Oh…Oh, God!” she screamed into the wood floor, trails of saliva spilling from her open mouth. “Please!!” She couldn’t believe how much she was willing to beg.
All Roland managed was a nod and one more thrust before Alex’s walls were clenching tightly around his stiff rod, pulsating over and over again as a wave of ecstasy crashed over her entire body. She came. She came hard. She came with a fucking bloodcurdling scream. If she hadn’t felt the pleasure personally and had only witnessed the orgasm, she would have thought it was fake—but fuck… fuck, it was real.
It was then that she realized why. Even though Roland had turned off his emotional side during their intimacy—or at least, that’s what it seemed like—she hadn’t. Even though lust had flowed through her veins and gorged her organs with sexual arousal, it wasn’t the only emotion present. The deeper connection that she knew existed between the two of them was still present—at least for her. When she came, it was as though the climax itself was being pulled from the deepest part of her soul.
She wasn’t quite sure how to put that experience into proper formulated thoughts, nor was she sure how to express it. However, she knew that whatever just happened, even though it was masked as a lustful encounter, was something special. Roland’s climactic groan pulled her from her stupor, and she watched as his eyes closed and his face contorted, the feeling of Alex’s walls tightened around him obviously causing him to come undone completely. “Oh, Alex!” he breathed, collapsing into her back.
As he lay on top of her, she wondered what happened. She wondered if he could completely let her in, and if so, when. She also wondered where the fuck on this journey of sex-slavery did she find herself falling for a man like this?
More importantly, why had he let her in only to push her back out again? They were making love, and it was something even more enjoyable than anything else she had ever experienced, but he ruined it. In one single moment, with one tiny fucking look, he ruined it. He switched the game. As if nothing good had come of it, he pushed her out of his open door and slammed it closed in her face.
And then he fucked her.
His eyes in their blackened and evil-state were nothing more than the face of his mask, and every time she saw that fucking mask, she knew he was gone. The real Roland was nowhere to be found. He was instead some greedy, overly-defensive, abusive, animalistic, sex-addicted, master, and she was his slave. Not his lover.
She knew he hadn’t wanted to let her in. She knew it was important to him to keep everyone out, and everyone included her. Hell, after what she saw—him as his true self—his blockade list probably consisted of especially her. She knew how important it was to keep people out, and how terrifying it was when they breached your barriers. She knew because he had knocked down all of her walls, and it fucking terrified her.
But the difference was, she was ready to keep her walls as ruins on the battlefield.
He was different on the other hand.
***
Legs intertwined and bodies naked, pressed against one another, and wrapped under a single white cotton sheet. Alex and Roland were asleep. Not only were they asleep, but they were cuddling, fucking cuddling.
Did he not just moments before completely rid them of their moment of connection; their moment of emotionally sexual tenderness? Did he not just take all of the progress away that they had made and completely obliterate it right before her eyes?
She knew he was scared, but fuck, he was horrible at shielding himself if he so easily fell prey to the emotions once again. And he obviously had if he was in the position he was currently in! A man that disagreed with even so much as forecasting any sort of emotional attachment during sex definitely didn’t wish to be in such a compromising cuddling position as this.
As he lay tangled up in her own body and the sheets that covered them, she wondered if he would run like a terrified animal when he awoke. She wondered why she hadn’t. It was all new, and though it was exciting, it was also incredibly terrifying for her, too.
Not only had she allowed her fortress to fall into crumbled shambles on the ground, but she had also been rejected by him. Or at least, that’s what it felt like when he shifted their moment of tenderness with his usual habits of lust and dominance. He had let her in, only to throw her out again and that—to her—was way worse than merely never letting her in in the first place. She almost rather he left his defenses up than be a fucking Indian giver.
“Can I ask you a question?” Alex asked quietly, finding herself strangely and absentmindedly twirling circles on his chest, marveling at the small trail of hair in the center. Something had weighed on her mind ever since it first came to her attention, and she just had to ask. Hopefully, he would trust her enough to answer.
She hated asking a question just to ask another question, but the truth was she wasn’t sure how to formulate the words for what she wanted to know. She wasn’t sure if the English language could even harbor the right words to properly construct the question. So, she did what any other bull shitter would do; and she was buying time.
Not to mention, she was fucking terrified he was going to flee when his eyes finally fluttered open and found their bodies so lovingly spooning in an embrace of intimacy. She didn’t want to lose the warmth of his body, and she knew it was a definite possibility if he awoke, but she had to ask.
It was now or never.
Part of her had, in all honesty, secretly hoped he hadn’t heard her though, but when his eyes began to twitch from their closed position and his body began to shift against her, she knew that he had. He was waking up.
And now she had to ask. He was all fucking ears. At least, she knew he would be if he wouldn’t run away from her first.
~~~