Page 44 of Tortured Whispers
“Just like that, Brook. Fuck.” His strong fingertips dug into my hips, then my ass as he held on for dear life. I wanted the pressure from his grip to bruise me. I didn’t give a fuck.
I rode Caesar like I’d been doing it my entire life. Like I was made for him. Sweat rolled down my spine, it dotted his brow, and it covered us as the heat passed back and forth. I leaned down to kiss him so I could slow down.
“You feel so fucking good riding my dick, Brook,” he muttered against my mouth.
“Do I?” I asked, needing to hear how I made him feel.
“Yes, baby. You’re perfect.” He took my arm in his hand and kissed my scars. I trembled from the sentiment. The way he loved me was unmatched. He accepted every fucked up part of me and turned it into something beautiful.
Cease dragged his tongue along my collarbones then up to my neck while he clutched my body close to him. His manly scent filled my nostrils and I moaned from the smell of him and the way his mouth felt on my hot skin.
“Dammit, Brook. I’m about to cum. I can’t keep coming inside of you.” Our foreheads pressed together and I stared into his eyes, begging for him to empty into me. I loved the way it felt. So warm and full. So complete.
“Please, Cease. I love when you cum inside of me.” Even saying those words had me buzzing with the need to climax. I slid my cunt up and down his shaft and he groaned. It mixed with my eager moans to create an erotic symphony.
“Fuck, don’t say shit like that,” he pled with me. His dick jerked between my tight walls and I whimpered, moving my ass faster. “I gotta pull out,” he told me. I lifted up so he could slide out. His seed splashed across my flat stomach immediately. I watched his load slip down my skin with my bottom lip tucked between my teeth.
The sight was so amazingly sexy.
Caesar’s thick cock was still stiff and pulsing. The last bead of cum sat right on the tip of his dick. So I cleaned it for him. I slid my slippery pussy back down on his throbbing erection and he let out a barrage of colorful curse words. His hands turned to fists while I rode him painfully slow.
My core ached and squeezed while we both moaned with immeasurable pleasure. Fuck. I never knew sex could feel so good.
I wasn’t sure what happened but in the next second, Cease had my hair in his brutal grip as he pinned me to the floor. He was a madman. A wicked thrill sliced through my middle when I felt him penetrate me from behind.
He fucked me so good. So deep. Every bone in my body sang with pleasure. His dick owned me from the inside out. Every thrust told me who I belonged to.
My orgasm was quiet that time. It rolled over me like slow waves at the shore. My body tensed while I moaned Cease’s name against the carpet. He couldn’t escape coming inside of me that time and I’d be lying if I said a smirk didn’t dimple the corners of my mouth when I felt it.
“You did that on purpose,” he grunted.
“Did what?” I sat up, batting my lashes at him.
“You knew riding my dick after I came was going to drive me insane.”
“I didn’t know that but I’m glad it did,” I laughed then headed to the bathroom to start the shower.
I giggled when I felt his hands on my waist and his lips on my neck. I fucking giggled. Only happy people did shit like that. The thought tingled down to the soles of my feet.
I was happy.
**
“I got you something,” Cease said. I couldn’t pry my eyes off his sculpted chest or the way remnants of shower water trickled down his abs. I didn’t even realize how hard I was biting my lip until I felt the sting. I blinked a few times and focused on the bag he was holding in front of my face.
“What’s this?” I asked, scrambling toward it like a little kid at Christmas. I plucked it from his hand and dug in. I pulled out tank top after tank top. They were so pretty and soft. All different colors and patterns. I couldn’t stop running my hands over the fabric.
“I got you some tank tops. I know it seems stupid but I wanted you to start feeling comfortable enough with yourself to wear them around the house at least. I want to see your arms. I want you to see your arms,” he said, pinning me with his gaze.
“My arms are howwible,” I frowned, looking down at my marred skin.
“They’re a part of your struggle. A struggle that has helped to create you.”
“Yeah, maybe if I was over it but I’m not, Cease. I’m still a cutter.” I ran my fingers over the scars and tears welled in my eyes.
“So what? You’re trying.” He touched my hand, then my scars. They twinged beneath his fingers.
“I cut so bad the other night that I think I fucked something up in my arm, Cease. The night we first made love. I could barely make a fist. I was so scared.” My voice was a whisper. I avoided Caesar’s eyes because I knew what I would see.
Pain.
“What? Why didn’t you tell me? We can go to the doctor and get you checked out, Brooklyn,” he frowned.
“Why? So they can see that I’m a cutter and give me pills to make me happy?”
“No! So they can check your arm for nerve damage.” He forced my face to his and kissed away each sob that wracked me. “Baby, you have to come to me when you’re drowning. Don’t drown alone. Ever.”
