Page 18 of Lost and Bound
His finger drilled deeper, twisting inside me, calluses abrading tender flesh. I panted into his shoulder, my mouth as wet and open as I was below, my lips slick against his collarbone.
He pulled back, and then delved in again, this time with two fingers stretching me. They worked in and out, his knuckles pushing against my ass cheeks. Those two fingers felt so strange, so alien, but his whole hand lodged between my legs almost felt more so, even though most of it wasn’t inside me.
I burrowed closer to him. Three fingers, now, making me shift in discomfort, trying to spread my legs as if that’d relieve the internal pressure. It didn’t. My ass burned, the rim of my hole stretching to the limit. He kept moving his hand, pumping in and out, his other arm around my back and pressing me close to him.
He leaned his head down so that his mouth brushed my ear. “It’s time.” That raspy growl finished me off. Tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes.
I didn’t resist as he lifted me a little, pulling his fingers out of me, leaving me feeling almost numb where he’d worked my body open. He took a firm grasp on my ass cheeks, pulling me apart and positioning me over his cock.
Slowly, he lowered me down. The head entered me, lodged just inside. I froze, thighs trembling, straining to keep myself still. He had a big cock. A thick, long, alpha cock, the size of an average forearm. Too big to fit in me. So big that I’d never recover from it.
I didn’t want this to end, this moment, poised between life and death. Wrapped in the heat of his body, with my burning cheek resting on his broad shoulder. I wanted to get even closer, until he absorbed me into his strength and solidity. Melt into him. Let him hold me and stroke me and caress me forever.
He waited patiently, not pushing me down, not thrusting up, until at last my legs gave out and I sank down onto his cock, taking it in a slow, unstoppable slide. My body swallowed him, adjusting inside until he filled me up. The pressure took my breath away. There simply wasn’t room to breathe. He ran his hands over and around my ass, tracing the contours of my body as if they’d changed to accommodate him within me.
His hips shifted, and he thrust up. And again, shoving deeper into me. It didn’t even feel like being fucked, or not like I’d imagined being fucked would feel. It wasn’t an intrusion anymore. Or…it was. But an intrusion suggested he didn’t have the right to be there, or that I had the right to stop him. So he couldn’t intrude, because my body belonged to him.
He’d claimed those secret places in me, hidden away, and made them his. He moved in me like the wet heat of me only existed to sheathe his cock.
I let him, not like I had a choice. I lay pliant against him, breathing hard, my own cock the only part of me that hadn’t gone completely limp.
It still pressed into his skin, still eager. Why did I…pressure built inside me as the thickness of him rubbed over and over a little bright spot of sensation, a nub of pleasure that tightened and grew brighter still, my muscles clenching all around.
He moved faster, thrusting up harder. But still carefully, still gently. As if I might break.
I almost laughed. This place had already broken me. He couldn’t do it again.
Except that I was wrong about that.
I moved up and down with his motions, my chest and belly rubbing against his, my cock stiff between us, that heat and pressure building inside me, my eyes sliding shut.
And then the base of his cock started to swell, catching on the rim of my hole.
His knot.
My eyes popped open. I started to lift my head, and he wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and held me in place.
It got bigger, harder, until I thought I’d tear. And then with one hard thrust up, he buried it inside me, lodging it against that place where the pleasure had been sparking in me.
That spark caught fire, blazing through me, every muscle in my body going rigid.
Feeling something good, something searingly bright, after all that darkness…I moaned, long and loud, a broken, helpless sound.
And I broke again with it. I came, shuddering, my cock spreading wetness between our bodies. I almost blacked out from it. He crushed me in his arms and let out a long, low growl, shoving his knot deeper. He spilled in me, hot pulses of come that filled me to bursting, and his hips stuttered, his arms tightening around me.
I could have drifted there for another two years.
I felt his mouth against my neck.
“No,” I whispered. “Not yet.” His fingers stroked through my hair.
“Yes,” he said. Not cruelly, but implacably. “The mating bite first. And then I’ll—”
“I know, I know what comes next, don’t say it.”
He sighed against my skin, pressed a heartbreakingly gentle kiss to the curve of my throat. I sobbed and buried my face in his chest, squirming against him, writhing on his knot, aftershocks of my orgasm rippling through me.
Why had I wanted this to be less violent? Why hadn’t I held out until he couldn’t control himself anymore, let him take me by force, brutalize me while I fought and struggled to the end? This hurt so much more.
