Page 96 of Whimper Wonderland
And she does. Fuck.She does. I watch it slide inside of her. By the time I get it all the way to the hilt, her sweet little legs are trembling.
“Fuck,” she whispers. “Fuck. You’re so big.”
I could come from this sight alone. I’m getting dangerously close.
I slide my hand up the back of her neck. I take a handful of her hair. I pull it aside and kiss her throat.
“Breathe for me,” I tell her. She does and starts to relax around me. “You good?”
“Good,” she says. She sounds delirious. “So fucking good.”
All I need to hear.
I grip her hip and I take her. Hard. I push into her with the kind of rough passion that I’ve kept pent up for so long. The way I want her is hungry, and filthy, and Dove?—
She loves it.
She cries out. Delicious, whimpery,give me morecries. I give her more. I give her everything I have. I fuck, and I grip,and I give until can’t hold back anymore. I explode. It bursts from me and I hear this animal sound leave me—a dark growl from my throat—as I fuck her, filling her. Pleasure rushes from my toes, through my fingertips, down the center of me, pooling out from me and into her.
I hang over her, trying to catch my breath in the aftermath. Dove shudders underneath me—a beautifully spent angel.
She’s the first to speak. “God,” she moans. “That was so?—”
I interrupt her. “I’m not done.”
20
COME AGAIN?
Dove.Now.
I’m not done.
Every nerve in my body lights up when he says it. With excitement—and fear.
Can I handle more?
He slips out of me. He flips me around so I’m facing him, and I see the heat in those eyes, and I know?—
Yes. I can handle it. More than that, I want this.
I want everything I have coming to me.
I deserve this.
I deserve every drop of this feral fucking man. My thighs are sore where they slammed over and over against the desk. Those red bands will turn purple and blue tomorrow, and I love them. I widen my legs. Inviting.
He pushes his cock back inside of me.
My head falls back. I moan, unable to stop my toes from curling as his thick length fills me once again. It’s perfect, every goddamn inch of him. In one hand, he grips my thigh,holding me against him. In the other hand, he takes my throat. Pinning me to him. He holds me in a way that keeps me secure and my breath feels thinner, lighter, my head spinning as he pounds me.
In this position, my needy little nub grinds against the base of his cock. I whimper, the sound small and choked in his hand. I feel myself go tight, squeezing him, and I can’t come again, I can’t possibly come again, but here I am, pleasure cresting, bursting?—
“Dove!” He shouts my name. He sounds almost pained, hips bucking violently against mine as we come together. We crash together—a throbbing, spilling mess. Two humans becoming one tangle of limbs and fluids and beating hearts.
I’m limp as a doll against him. If he wasn’t holding me up, I’d be melted against the desk. Dorian has his head down, panting for breath. His skin is furnace hot against mine, the both of us are slick with sweat andeverything else.
He still has his hand around my throat, that dominant hold, yet I’m the one who rasps: “Good boy.”
