Page 48 of Grift

Four fingers rub determined circles, not easing, not reading my body, just commanding me toward an orgasm. The other hand comes down again and again in a hard rhythm against my ass. Every nerve is alive from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, anchored in the region and threatening to explode,

“Please,” I hear myself say.

“Come for me, darling.” At those words, I just let go. Every orgasm I’ve had before overshadowed, this moment’s pleasure bound into one release that locks my legs, leaves them shaking, and unable to move. Patrick’s huge body moves directly behind mine, molded to me, shielding me, sheltering me, wrapping around me. His iron cock presses against my ass.

“What do you want?” he croons in my ear. I’d beg for it right now, a thought that both fills me with shame and leaves me determined to do it anyways if I have to. I want to feel that way again, but with him inside me.

I reach back, and when I touch his cock he grunts. “Stay here.”

I do, because I won’t move a muscle that would make him change his mind. There’s a tearing of a package, and then he’s behind me, positioning himself at my opening. God. He’s so big, stretching, pushing inside in one slow, agonizing move. I’m so wet, there’s no resistance but he’s moving like he has all the time in the world, like I don’t need all of him right now. There’s no way there’s more, but he doesn’t stop until he fills me completely, pushing deep and then torturing me with agonizing rolls of his hips that threaten to shatter me completely.

One hand reaches around to caress my breasts, which suddenly feel heavy with desire. His other slides down to my clit. “Oh god, please, I can’t.”

Not again. Too much.

“Oh I think you can.”

It’s a challenge, a command. He’s still filling me, seating himself deep inside, no thrusting. Just playing with my nipples, flicking my clit, nibbling my ears until I lose myself again, spiraling into that abyss that I can’t seem to leave behind. Clenching, pulsing, bearing down on him as best I can bent over the table. Another cry escapes, this one loud enough that the neighbors can probably hear.

His hands still, and it feels like he starts to pull out, but then he drives back in and oh good god. Palms come to rest on either side of me, and then he begins to thrust in earnest. Pounding, unrelenting, with the table shaking and banging, and there’s fireworks again exploding. My pussy is pulsing, convulsing. And then suddenly, he’s not there.

“Patrick?” Half cry, half question.

He’s turning me around, so I’m on my back and facing him. There’s a moment where I forget everything, the fact that he just had me bent over and begging for him to be inside me. The fact that he spanked me for not being loud enough. The fact that he’s played my body like a master musician, and I’m just left to vibrate in his wake.

Stepping in front of me, he nudges my legs apart even as they instinctively move that way, and he slides into me even as he pulls me into a seated position. In one move, he’s lifting me off the table and carrying me to the nearby wall. It’s easy to forget how strong he is. In seconds, my back is pinned against the wall, his cock buried as deep inside me as he can go. There’s nothing but the aching build of sensations as he begins slide in and out of my body, a slow rhythm that threatens a whole different kind of coming undone.

Gentle, intimate, a tender invasion. He catches my bottom lip in his and sucks, holding the same pace until my body yields to him again. For some reason, a tear is rolling down my cheek at the same time I’m trying to speak, but my pants and pleas all form the same word.

Patrick.

Over and over again, and each time it spills from my lips he drives deeper into me, until short, hard, fast strokes bring a tightening and a release, his entire body going rigid. For a long time, we stay just like that, him inside me and with my back up against the wall. Finally, I open my eyes and see him watching me.

Not knowing what to say, I put my lips to his and let my eyes drift closed again.

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