Page 69 of The Dark Before Light

I dip my cock back into her pussy, not staying long enough to distract myself, then fit myself against her asshole. I forget how to breathe as I start gently pushing. She’s wet and prepped but still shakes beneath me, muscles tensing and releasing. A thought surfaces, one that seems impossible but rings as undeniable.

She’s never done this before.

It’s domination, plain and simple, and she’s giving this first to me. The realization brings a wave of possessive tenderness, softening my urgency just enough for me to force out the words, “Relax and bear down a little, mo ghrá.”

She takes a shuddering breath, then another slower, deeper one. She softens. Opens. Taking the gift of what’s already mine, I sink into her a few inches. She can’t help but stiffen at the intrusion; her breathing speeds up.

Stilling, I stroke and massage her back and hips. “You feel so perfect. So tight and warm. I’m so fucking pleased. Thank you. Thank you, sweetheart.”

The final threshold of her resistance falls. The choking grip on my shaft loosens a fraction. I bottom out inside her with a growl. Her answering moan is music to my ears and snaps my control.

I begin fucking her in earnest, hard and steady. Her moans get louder, her pussy drenching my balls. When she begins rocking with me, I see stars. Familiar pressure builds inside me, only it’s more intense than I’ve ever experienced.

This orgasm might kill me, but I’m at peace with it.

“Work your clit for me,” I grind out.

Her hand dives beneath her, the other clenched on the bedding. She strokes herself with two fingers, fast and sure, gasping and keening. Her nails graze my balls on every thrust, spiking the pressure in them to catastrophic levels. My thrusts start to lose rhythm. I’m seconds away.

Miraculously, so is she.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” she cries through a sob.

She screams my name, jerking and contracting around me. It’s too much; too intense. Lightning streaks through my limbs, coalescing and detonating in a flash that swallows my sight.

I roar my gratitude to God and the Devil both as I fill her with cum.

Chapter 20

Talia

Iwake to sunlight on my face and a languor in my body so pervasive it’s a challenge to open my eyes.

Then recall hits.

I jerk upright, blinking fast as I take in the empty room, my empty bed. The air hums with stillness, the type of quiet I’m most accustomed to. I’m alone.

A weight descends on my chest, compressing my lungs. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Disappointed. No—devastated. He offered me one night, and that’s what he gave me. Not once did we speak of anything past the present. He didn’t ask me to date him again, didn’t try to convince me his feelings weren’t transference.

Maybe he realized they were, and last night was about the challenge. Dominating the dominatrix. Proving to himself and me how much I wanted him. How much I’d be willing to submit.

Does he know I gave him parts of myself I’ve never given anyone? I think he does.

Still, I’ll never regret it. Not the discomfort in my body right now, not my tears or my begging last night. He deserved it all. He proved himself worthy with the care he took. The tenderness he showed. Real or not, last night he acted like he was mine. Last night, my oldest dream came true.

Pulling my comforter to me, I curl into it and close my stinging eyes. Memories flood me, sensation following each winding path. A shower. His hands washing me, tender and thorough, then the ease with which he lifted me against the tiled wall. His laughter when I couldn’t hide my shock.

“You may be built like a goddess, but lucky for you, I’m built to worship one.”

Water misting between our mouths, our chests and stomachs flush. His eyes pinning me as surely as his cock and his hand on my throat. No words, just the silent language of our bodies. My orgasm, sudden and explosive. Then my knees against the tile, his cum painting my neck and chest. He hadn’t asked for it—I hadn’t given him a choice.

We slept for a while after. It was still dark when I woke up to his tongue on my clit and his fingers massaging my G-spot. He edged me until I was sweating and cursing him, then brought me to the deepest, most shattering orgasm of my life.

I didn’t mean to fall asleep again, but when he tucked me against the warm, hard planes of his body and stroked my hair, my mind slipped away.

It’s no surprise I don’t remember him leaving. The grogginess in my head and the stupor in my body signal I was probably catatonic. I wish I’d woken, though. Even if I have no idea what I might have said or done. Asked him to stay? Begged him for another night? I wouldn’t have.

But at least I could have said goodbye.

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