Page 86 of Firethorne
“You need to relax,” he told me as I started to tense up again. “Play with your clit and focus on how good your body feels. Lean back into me. It’ll help you open up.”
I reached forward, stroking my pulsing clit and then pushed my hips back.
“Good girl,” he moaned and pushed his cock in a little more, groaning as my muscles gripped him tightly.
I tilted my head so I could look at his face, and the expression of pure bliss as he stared down at where his cock was penetrating my asshole made my orgasm tingle and spark to life.
“Fuck my ass,” I begged him, knowing that’d push him over the edge. “Let me feel every inch of you.”
His fingers gripped my hips, and he pulled me back even more, sliding my ass onto his cock. Then he pushed in slowly, filling me until I could feel his hips resting against my ass.
“I’m gonna come so fucking hard,” he moaned. “I’ll fill your ass full of my cum. And you’re gonna love every minute, aren’t you?”
I whimpered, “Yes,” and then he started to move. Slow thrusts at first, but once he knew I could take it, he worked me harder, pounding my ass and making my whole body shake with need. Fucking me like he’d die if he didn’t thrust as hard as he fucking could.
I buckled; my arms unable to hold me up as my shoulders hit the mattress. Damien reached forward and grabbed some pillows, shoving them under my hips to keep me upright as he fucked me harder.
“Fucking come for me,” he commanded, holding my hips firmly as he pumped into me. “Play with your pussy while I fuck your ass and come for me, Maya.”
I didn’t need to touch myself; his dirty words made me explode, my pussy and my ass contracting hard as I cried out, squeezing his cock as he thickened against my pulsing walls. And then he roared as he came too. Cries of pure pleasure as his cock throbbed inside me.
He held my hips tightly as he emptied himself, and then, slowly, he pulled his cock out of my ass, and I could feel his hot cum trickling out.
I knew he wouldn’t like that.
He didn’t like to waste a drop.
Suddenly, I felt cold metal against my ass, and the sensation of him scooping the yoghurt and cum. I turned my head to see him with a spoon, collecting what he could and putting it back into the yoghurt pot.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I whispered.
“It was this or my mouth cleaning it up,” he replied, like both options were viable.
I was speechless.
Totally spent and satisfied, but utterly speechless.
“You could’ve used a towel,” I shot back, and when he carried on regardless, I said, “Please tell me you’re not going to eat that?”
“Why not?” He raised a brow. “Eating cum flavoured yoghurt out of your ass wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”
“Damien!” I gave him a look, and he smirked back at me. This man was too much.
“Too soon for that?” He winked.
“Errr, yes!” I replied, and then I couldn’t stop myself from giggling. I knew life with Damien was going to be one hell of a ride, and I was here for it.
We never did get around to eating a proper breakfast. By the time Damien had finished fucking me, we both collapsed on the bed and fell into a light sleep. And then he’d had to leave, telling me his father had called an urgent meeting and he needed to get back to the house, so he didn’t arouse any suspicion.
I didn’t argue, but watching him leave felt like a part of me was walking away with him. Here was another day where I had to lose myself in books, my writing, or daydreams about him. Anything to take my mind off the hopelessness of our situation. But at least now I had some new memories to replay in my mind, memories that made me yearn for him all over again.
Thinking about our night together made me realise how well I’d slept with Damien beside me. I hadn’t encountered any dark shadows haunting me, or any night terrors. Not like I did most nights in this quiet, lonely apartment. Hopefully, now it wouldn’t feel so lonely. Now I had him.
I read a few more chapters ofThe Handmaid’s Taleto stop myself from falling down a Damien-shaped hole of need andpining for the rest of the day. Then I started to write, my mind choosing to go back in time to the days when my father first told me about his bankruptcy. I found writing about the fallout of what he’d done therapeutic, and before I knew it, daylight turned to dusk, casting shadows over the apartment.
I saved my work and closed the laptop, standing from the sofa, ready to turn the lights on. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the thought of what Damien would want to do tonight. But as I turned, I saw the door to the apartment was ajar and I gasped.
My pulse thrummed in my ears as I stared at the unlocked door, and adrenaline hit me hard, making me feel sick.
