Page 224 of Bitter Poetry
I groan into his palm. It’s not an acknowledgement, but neither is it a denial.
He pulls out and a gush of cum slides down my inner thighs.
I’m confused again. Why am I so wet? He’s still hard. That he wants to take me roughly implies he hasn’t yet come.
He tumbles me so I’m face down. His hands tremble as he skims them up my back and down where they settle at my waist.
“Is this okay, baby?”
“What?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. He clamps his hand around my waist, lines up, and pushes into me.
“Dante, I’m so sore. Oh, God!”
He growls, an honest-to-God growl, like he’s an animal, and it lights me up. And then he fucks me, hard, brutal, strokes. I love each and every one.
“Put your hand over your mouth, baby. Don’t want to wake up the rest of the house, do we?”
I do as he says. I’m like a ragdoll being pulled off and on his cock. Our flesh slaps together. I don’t think it matters what sounds come out of our mouths when the sound of our fucking is so loud.
Did Christian arrive? Is he watching? Is this even allowed?
He comes, his body covering mine, the sounds of his pleasure choked out against the side of my throat. He’s holding me too tightly, his fingers sliding back and forth across my swollen clit that is far too sensitive.
I want to come again.
God, why am I so sensitive there? What has he done to me?
My heart is pounding too fast; it feels like it might pound out of my chest. I’m half smothering myself, trying to keep my noises inside. I can feel his cum filling me: I’m drenched with it. I twitch and spasm and jerk.
It’s too much, I can’t take it.
He doesn’t stop.
Why would he? He’s just like Christian in that regard. The mere notion that he’s not going to stop, that he will have my climax—demands it—whether I want it or not, is all the push I need.
I scream into my palm as a release too powerful to contain slams into me.
Then everything goes black.
DANTE
She falls limp in my arms. My dick immediately begins kicking inside her again. Damn, I think I’ve broken it… and her. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve fucked her in the night. But yeah, it was a lot.
She moans weakly.
“It’s alright; I’ve got you.”
“God, Dante, I need a moment.”
I chuckle against her throat.
“Is-is Christian here?”
I nip against her flesh. “No. He gave me permission.” It’s almost daylight outside. I want to fuck her again. But even I’ve got to admit my dick is raw. And I don’t think I’ve got another one in me.
CARMELA
