Page 55 of The Reveal
He pushes me forward so that I brace myself on the low wall, shocked to find dampness all over my face. I do nothing about it. I don’t accept that I’mcrying. I feel the cool touch of his powerful hands at my hips, then around the front of my body as he tugs my trousers open and then pulls them down my legs. Then he steps between them, kicking my legs farther apart.
I think,This is it.
And every lie I told myself on the harrowing drive over tonight—about how all I needed to do was happily submit to whatever game he was playing to get what I need in the end, that being access to my brother—goes up in a puff of smoke.
Because it’s true that I want to help Augie. I always want to help Augie. But it’s also true, and significantly more true in this moment, that I want this.
The feel of his cock, heavy and cool, as he presses himself between my legs.
Between them so that he can rub himself against my pussy, hitting my clit each time, but he does not angle up and thrust his way inside.
He holds me there, each deliberate movement of his cock banging against me in such a way that I gasp and try to move but find myself anchored in place. He moves one hand back to find its way between my legs from the front and slides his fingers into all my shameful heat, and then there’s nothing to do but surrender.
That giant cock is never still. It moves forward or back, creating friction and pressure, and his hand in front presses and pulls and swirls around in all that wetness, teasing and toying with me. With great deliberation and knee-weakening skill.
I’m a mess, and there’s nothing I can think to do about it.
My breasts feel heavy and huge. My nipples are in tight points. All my weight is on my hands, and my head hangs low, and surrender tastes like copper in my mouth as I bite the side of my cheek to keep from moaning out this dark and dirty blaze of pleasure and despair to the streets below.
There’s nothing for me to do but accept that I’m his toy, to do with as he wishes.
And the scariest part is that I like it.
I like having no control, no responsibility, nothing Ishoulddo here.
I more than like it.
This time, the orgasm comes in heavy, like I’m being wrung out. Slow, steady—a gradually undulating build of wild sensation that goes on and on and on.
It doesn’t stop.
“I can’t,” I pant out at one point, but he ignores me.
Ariel doesn’t say a word, but his hand is implacable and his cock is as stern and cruel as his mouth, and I learn as “I can’t” turns into “yes” that he knows my body better than I do.
Another grief to pick apart when I’m alone.
But first is this, and it’s still going. No beginning, no end. Coming and coming, a shudder that rises and falls like breath and turns every last part of my body into jelly.
My clit feels enormous, swollen and lush, and he hits it unerringly every time. I can’t decide if I want to push into that thrust or move away from it, and that indecision only puts me more firmly into his hands.
It’s like a pendulum, back and forth forever, and on every side there’s only more sensation, more of that dark greed that has taken me over entirely.
Another thing I learn is that I like that, too.
He growls, and I feel that everywhere, too. It makes my nipples pinch even harder.
My head is hanging down. I don’t know if my eyes are open or closed. All I can see are stars either way.
He spears two fingers down onto either side of my clit, holding it there as he slams into it from behind. Once, again, and then something white hot and impossible slams into me.
It wrecks me.
But as it hits, as I shatter in his grip, I feel him pull back and then he floods me. Drenching my lower back, my ass, between my legs.
Then he presses himself against me, as if trying to seal us together.
My breath saws in and out of my lungs. I have no idea how long we stay like that, all that cool come between us, and me in ruins. He pulls me up to a standing position, still pressed against my back, and I feel his mouth on my neck again.
