by Alexis Angel
I know I should put an end to this. My job, my whole career—all that is in jeopardy right now. But, somehow, my brain can’t process any of that. With each passing second the real world becomes just a distant nuisance, like the echoed memory of some long forgotten dream. Only his touch matters to me now… His lips, his hands. His muscular chest pressed tight against mine.
My eyes are closed, but I don’t need to see. I let my hands guide me, my fingertips going up his neck as I explore the hard features of his square jaw line and high cheekbones. I go up to his hair, running my fingers through and disheveling it, my heart beating faster than ever. How many times have I dreamed of this? Too many to count. And now, fantasy has become reality, and it couldn’t be any better.
A shiver goes through my spine as he slides his hands up the side of my body, running them up to my hair. There, he hooks his fingers in it, yanking and forcing me to throw my head back and expose my neck. His slightly parted lips give way to a row of perfect white teeth, and he nibbles at the tender skin on my neck, all of me surrendering to Lucien Stone.
Still gripping my hair, he lets one hand fall down to my waist and then, burying his fingers on my exposed flesh, forces me to turn on my heels. I offer no resistance, my hands going to the cold wall as I turn to face it. He laces my waist with his arm and I jut my ass back, immediately feeling the bulging inside his pants squeezing itself against my buttocks.
I lean forward against the wall, my forehead pressed against it while he takes both his hands to my waist and, grabbing my pants, pushes them down to my knees. My skin prickles as I feel the cool air lapping at it, and I can’t help but bite down on my lower lip as I imagine Lucien’s eyes tracing the contour of my ass, my small black thong the only barrier between me and him.
Placing the back of his hand behind my knee, he slides his fingers up my leg, only his knuckles brushing against my skin. He goes up to my buttocks and then starts to trace the contour of my thong, going all the way to my groin. Another sigh leaves my lips as his fingertips go back and forth, my pussy growing wetter by the second.
Before this, every time I thought of Lucien I became wet, my body pleading to be close to him, but now that he’s on me, the state I’m in doesn’t even compare. Everything in me is burning, desire like an anchor on my mind, pushing it down into a sea of forbidden lust. And it feels amazing.
I hold my breath as his lips travel from my neck to my ear, and then he whispers.
“Spread your legs,” he says, a commanding tone in each of his words. The moment I hear him, I move, my body reacting on instinct. There’s something about him—something wild and primal—that leaves no space for defiance. Whatever he tells me to do, I know I’ll do it.
As soon as I spread my legs, he grabs my thong and pulls it against the side of my thigh. I grit my teeth as he stretches the fabric, only stopping after the sound of it ripping reaches my eardrums. He throws it to the side like a used rag, and I suddenly feel exposed, my cheeks flushing as I imagine him looking at my naked ass.
There’s no time for being coy, though. I breathe out sharply as he smacks my right buttock, the open palm of his hand hitting me with enough strength to leave a mark. He does it again, this time on the left side, and a trembling moan leaves my lips. Just the sound of it is enough to drive me crazy; it’s dry and firm, like a gunshot, and it tells me that being with him will be unlike anything I've ever done.
I tremble with anticipation as he places one finger on my inner thigh, moving it upward toward my pussy. He takes his time, brushing his fingertip against me before going for it… but the moment he touches me there, it’s Heaven.
His touch is gentle and patient, his finger barely touching my labia as he moves it along the length of my pussy, toward my clitoris. When he reaches it, he presses slightly down and all hell breaks loose inside of me. I close my eyes, my breathing growing ragged as the whip of desire lashes at me. My heart drumming hard inside my chest, I move my hips back, desperately trying to make him slide his fingers in me.
“Don’t move,” he whispers against my ear again. His words are soft, but there’s no room for doubt: I will obey him.
“I won’t,” I tell him, willing my legs to remain still as I submit to his torture of anticipation: I’m dripping wet right now, and still he keeps teasing me, moving his finger back and forth over my labia. Breathing out slowly, I try to keep my composure, but it gets harder any time his finger brushes against my clit. He applies perfect pressure—not too much, not too little—leaving his finger there for just enough time to leave me wanting more.
When he pushes past my folds, his finger sliding just an inch in, I brace myself for an explosion of pleasure. But it doesn’t come; instead of sliding his finger in all the way, he only prods, moving it back and forth and driving me completely insane. I have to resist the urge to push my hips back against him, my insides shouting for more.
“Be patient,” he tells me, his finger circling the opening between my legs. I try to respond, to say that I can’t be patient, but the only thing that leaves my throat is a small groan. I can’t think straight, let alone form a coherent sentence.
Then, perhaps feeling my desperation, he flicks his wrist and slides his finger all the way in. I hold my breath as I feel him inside of me, just a taste of what’s to come—yes, somehow I know that there’s a lot more to come. The shackles of self-control have fallen off my mind, and now there’s no going back.
He holds his position, his finger deep inside me, pressed hard against my inner sweet spot. Only when he starts to slowly slide his finger out do I breathe again, my brain suddenly remembering that I need to do it in order to keep alive; it’s easy to forget about these things when the only thing your body wants is pleasure.
There’s a smooth cadence to my breathing now, one that matches the rhythm of his finger. He moves it in hard, and then slowly back out, taking his time with me. The more he does it, the more I ache to really feel him inside of me. Memories of his hard cock flash behind my closed eyelids, and I feel my mouth going dry at the thought of being with someone like him—after all, a member that size is something very new to me. I can’t help but wonder if it’s going to hurt… But then again, what if it hurts? It will be worth it, every second of it. And how do I know this? I don’t; I feel it deep inside of me, much in the same way I know the sun rises in the morning and sets in the evening.
He starts to go faster, my breathing growing harsher each time I feel him deep inside of me. A moan climbs up from my throat to my lips as he slides one more finger inside, pushing it all the way in with one single movement. I press my forehead against the wall, my eyes shut as tension spreads from my pussy to all of my limbs. Like the calm before the storm, I know one is brewing deep inside me.
I come the moment he slides his two fingers in, curling them upwards like a hook against my G-spot. I moan, the sound bouncing off the walls and filling the room, and he presses harder against me. He keeps still as waves of pleasure make my muscles twitch, my chin trembling as I struggle to keep breathing.
“This is just the start,” he whispers, breathing deeply over my neck and taking my scent in. I purr as he slides his fingers out, and then my lips curl into a smile as he wipes his fingers off my juices on my buttocks. My body still twitching, I let my hand dart behind me and against his chest. Without seeing what I’m doing, I let my fingers go down the front of his shirt, and I only stop when I find what I’m looking for: a hard bulge between his legs, one that holds promises of unspeakable delight. I curl my fingers around it, electricity shocking my brain as I think of the possibilities.
I move my hand up and down, stroking him over his trousers, but I can’t do it for long; I need to feel him on me, inside me, not just on my hand. Letting go, I let my fingers go over to his waist, and then I hook them on his pants; I tug them down hurriedly, his cock brushing against the back of my hand. It feels as if my heart is going to burst from anxiety, my body desperately craving him inside me.
; Before I can push his cock down and between my legs, he grabs me by the wrist. He pins it against the wall harshly, restraining me, and then presses his body against mine. His length between my ass cheeks, he presses even harder, my body close to the boiling point. It’s hard to be patient when he’s so close, and when I can feel his unbridled desire for me… But, fighting against all of my instincts, I do it, even though what my body demands is for me to turn around and guide him home.
I rock my body against him, moving it in waves as the warmness of his cock seeps into my skin. Time seems to dilate as I stroke him like that, eternity blanketing my mind. Please, I almost pray to the Heavens, let this last forever.
With a sudden movement, he pulls back, his cock no longer against my body. But then he yanks on my hair again, forcing my head back as, with his other hand, he guides his cock between my thighs. I gasp as his glans brushes against my clit, my mind suddenly capable of producing one simple though: yes, yes, yes.
“You want this, don’t you?” he asks me, slowly sliding his cock in. There’s only one inch inside of me, if that, but I can already feel the flames of delight burning under my skin.
“Yes... “ I mutter, trying hard to find the words inside my barely functioning brain. “Yes… I want it…”
Slowly, he lets one more inch inside of me, my pussy molding around his shaft. I try to push my hips back, but his hand on my waist keeps me still. I feel his body tensing up and I close my eyes for his thrust, but he does the opposite—he pulls his cock out, and then leans into me.
“You’ll have it… But not yet.” This is torture, plain and simple. To show me pleasure just to snatch it away at the last second… It just makes me want him more. It makes me delirious for him, my mind functioning with one sole purpose: to have him in me. “Turn around.”
I obey, turning on my heels to face him. He looks at me with the hint of a smile on his lips, and then he pulls his shirt over his head. I purse my lips, my eyes wandering over the narrow valleys between his abs. It doesn’t matter how many times I see his muscles, I can’t help myself from marveling at his sculpted body. My eyes follow the motion of his arms as he pulls his shirt off, the muscles in his chest and shoulders working in tandem like the perfect piece of human engineering they are. Throwing his shirt to the floor, he kicks off his shoes and, pushing down his pants and boxer briefs, steps out of them. I can’t take my eyes off of him as he undresses, his perfection almost too much for me to bear.
Standing in front of me, he makes me feel small and helpless. He could just as easily unleash ecstasy on my body as he could pick me up and break me in half. And although Lucien Stone is a criminal, a violent one at that, I feel safer than ever.
“Take it off,” he tells me, looking at me with his bottomless eyes. I stare back, the sound of my heartbeat like a machine gun against my eardrums. Lost in his eyes, my mind sails away from all sanity. Without even being aware of it, I grab my shirt by the hemline and pull it over my head. I throw it on the floor, on top of his, and then step out of my trousers.
He takes one step forward and my heart skips a beat. His hands reach for me and he slides them under my arms, his fingers running over the straps of my bra. He goes for the clasp and, unfastening it, slowly peels the bra off of me. I let it fall down my arms, the cups drooping over my breasts and finally gliding down to the floor.
Moving back again, he stops two feet away from my body, his cock pointing upward and calling to me. With a serious expression on his face, he lets his eyes hike all the way from my ankles to my face. Then, he smiles, and I melt.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, the words blanketing my mind.
Oh, God, am I blushing? Just three words from him and I’m feeling like a teenage girl, eager for approval. And his terse words are enough to make me act in a way I never did before.
“Take me, Lucien,” I find myself saying, the words leaving my lips before I can even process the meaning behind them. In a heartbeat, he’s on me, one hand on my waist, the other around my neck; he pushes me hard against the wall. My back hits the concrete, an anxious moan climbing up my throat. He’s rough, handling me like no one ever did before… And still, his fingers around my neck, I still feel safe.
“Say it again,” he commands me, his lips just inches away from mine.
“Take me,” I say again, my hands going to his lower back and pulling him into me.
“Beg.”
“Please, Lucien… I need it. I need it now… Please, fuck me,” I say, panting. In a blur of movement, he lets his hand go around my waist and then lower. With his fingers under my right buttock, he lifts my leg up and around his waist. Then he goes the distance, his mouth pressed tight against my own. I close my eyes, surrendering to his kiss as the pulsing tip of his cock rests over my wet folds.
He lets go of my neck, his now free hand going down to my waist and keeping me pinned against the wall as I part my lips and push my tongue inside his mouth, making it dance in circles around his own.
I rest my trembling fingers against his chest and run them down his abs, each ridge and valley making my heart feel tighter inside my chest. This is happening, it really is. I let my hand go lower, and only stop when I find the root of his cock; I curl my fingers around it and, pulling him in with the leg I have around his waist, I force his glans between my folds. It pulses against my folds, eager to ravage me, and I can’t help but hold my breath.
“You’re mine,” he tells me, pulling back from my kiss. I open my eyes and stare into his, his words echoing inside my head. How did this happen? How did I let myself be seduced by an inmate, and one as dangerous as I know Lucien can be? I have no answers and, in all honesty, I don’t care. I don’t think I would like the answers anyway. But I sure am ecstatic over the consequences.
“I’m yours,’” I find myself repeating, returning his gaze without blinking. These words should be hollow ones, the kind of thing you’d say in the heat of the moment… But the truth is, I really mean them. Somewhere along the way, Lucien sunk his hook into me and now, just like him, I’m in a jail of my own. “I’m yours, Lucien.”
The moment his name rolls off from my tongue, he thrusts. I let out a muffled scream and throw my head back, his shaft straining against my inner walls as it forces its way inside my pussy with one single stroke.
I breathe out deeply, the tortuous wait finally over. As he slides back out, my hands dart to his back and I bury my fingernails in his muscles, urging him to keep moving. That’s exactly what he does: he keeps moving, thrusting his hips and drawing a chain of low moans out of me.
I never felt anything like this; his thickness fills me up completely, stretching me wide and, despite all that, it doesn’t hurt. It’s the opposite, actually. It feels amazing, as if my pussy had been waiting for someone like Lucien all of my life. With each thrust of his the feeling intensifies, my insides getting used to how it feels to accommodate such a massive member.
“It’s so… good,” I say between breaths, pressing my forehead against his.
“It’s about to get better,” he grins, mischievousness in his eyes. With that, he places his other hand under my left buttock and lifts me up against him. I react by instinct, placing my hands over his shoulders and lacing him with my legs on his lower back. Pinned between the wall and Lucien, I throw my head back and prepare for what’s to come.
There’s no mercy or gentleness in the way he moves. We’re not making love. We’re fucking, and we’re doing it as hard as we can. He bucks his hips at me viciously; his cock going in and out of my pussy at such a pace that my throat grows sore and I give up on moaning. And when I think that he can’t keep that rhythm for much longer, he just goes harder, ramming all of his length inside of me with such force that, even though my throat is already raw, I can’t help but to scream. Thank God there is no one around right now to hear us.
Using my arms on his shoulders as leverage, I jump up and down over his cock, trying to match the motion of his body. I give up quickly
; there’s no way I can keep up. I just submit to it, resting my back and head against the wall and enjoying the punishment he’s handing out to my body.
“Don’t…” Don’t stop, that’s what I want to say. But I can’t; maybe I’m out of breath, or maybe my brain just can’t focus enough to find the words. I don’t have to worry, though, since he doesn’t look like he’s going to stop anytime soon. In fact, he looks like he could keep going forever, his body trapped on an endless loop of pleasure and dominance. And, oh God, how I wish that could be possible.
My pussy tightening around his cock, I come hard, trembling as if I had a fever. And I might just as well have one, since I’m burning up. I feel my chin quivering as I try to breathe, all my muscles twitching and spasming as pure delight rages through me, flooding both my body and mind. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I've never came like this before. I’ve had orgasms before, yes, but what I’m experiencing goes far beyond that. A simple orgasm pales in comparison to what I’m feeling right now.
With a kiss on my forehead, he puts me down, my legs feeling weak the moment my feet touch the floor. But he gives me no time to catch my breath: with his hands on my waist, he makes me turn around and face the wall once again. I place my hands against the cold concrete at shoulder height, jutting my ass back toward him. A cry of pleasure leaves my lips as he smacks my ass hard with the back of his hand. Then he does it again. And again. He does it until I’m gritting my teeth, the pain running through my nerves toward my brain, except the moment it gets there it has already been distilled into pleasure.
I let my head down, my hair falling over my shoulders and brushing against my breasts. His hands are now over my buttocks, squeezing them lightly. After the rough treatment, the gentle touch of his fingers feel like a blessing—one full of promises. The more his fingers caress me, the more they move toward the valley between my ass cheeks. The moment he’s close enough, he takes his hands out of me and, with just one finger, he traces the line between my cheeks all the way to between my thighs. Then, turning his hand around, he keeps going. I swallow hard when his fingers go over my pussy, gently parting my folds.