For Aisling Weaver‘s FuckMeFriday prompt.
In my mind, I lie beneath him, arms restrained above my head, my own panties in my mouth. Rough lips and teeth move up and down my skin, a finger between spread legs and then a bite against my hip. There are harsh words.
Slut. Whore. Cunt.
In my bed, I am still dressed. The hand against my clit is my own, my wrist tucked underneath the waistband of my pants, and I am close.
As they do in fantasies, the scene behind my eyes jumps erratically, escalating in a rush of touch and taking. His breath is hot beside my ear, and I rub faster, harder, to the thought of how it feels the moment that he shoves himself inside. I sneak my other hand beneath my clothes and slide a fingertip along my flesh, probing and then curling inside until my back arches, toes curling.
Pounding into me, he tells me that he’s using me. That this is really all for him, so he can cum inside my worthless cunt.
“Fuck, yes,” I breathe aloud. “Fuck me.”
“If you wish.”
My eyes snap open, my head turning to the door in horror to find him standing there, nonchalant. I start to pull my hands away, gasping hard to catch my breath, but he tsk’s and shakes his head.
“No, love,” he says, eyes dark, lips wet. “Keep going. Please.”
“Touch yourself. For me.”
It isn’t so easy now, but I obey. My eyes drift closed to try to find the space, so close to the edge, where I had hovered.
“Look at me.”
With effort, I do. His gaze intent, he slides a hand across his own body to press against the line of his cock, obvious beneath his pants.
And watching him is better than imagining.
I quicken my pace to the thought of him jerking hard at himself, cock slick from fucking me. Fantasy and reality merge as he takes himself out and makes a long slow pass, fist closing around the base. And I want it.
I want it bad.
“Please,” I beg.
“No,” he breathes. “Just enjoy the view.”
My whole body tenses, and I watch him stroke and touch, twisting at the tip to slide back down.
I know what it looks like when he comes. The way he seizes. How he seems to explode.
“Look at me.”
My eyes meet his, and I feel my own body arch. The pleasure slams over me, hot waves that make scream. It is all I can do to keep my gaze on his, but it’s better this way.
It’s so much better when he watches me come.
“Beautiful,” he whispers as I come back down. He stalks toward the bed, dick bobbing, and then climbs on top of me. Grabbing my arms, he pins my hands above my head and sinks his teeth into my neck. “My beautiful, dirty girl.”
And then he makes my fantasy reality.