Page 67 of The Taskmaster
“Oh yes,” I moaned, as he slid his cock over my clit, rubbing me as the waves became more powerful, more electrically charged. “Please don’t stop.”
“I love it when you beg,” he whisper-growled, and I knew I’d beg for everything from him if this was how he made me feel.
As my rocking hips slowed down, he flipped the switch, lifting my legs and pushing them up, opening my pussy wider for him. I held the backs of my knees up and watched as he moved his cock from my clit to my entrance.
Slowly, he started to push inside me, and the way he stretched my walls made me cry out. The piercings felt amazing, stroking my walls as he thrust further into me. The way he was entering me was painfully slow, so slow I found myself begging him, “More. Please.”
He knew what I wanted, but I think he liked torturing me too.
“More of what?” he asked, pushing himself into me until he was balls deep. Then he stopped.
I swallowed, adjusting to his size and the way the piercings touched my sensitive flesh. And then I told him, “Just fuck me. Please.”
He didn’t need telling twice. He pulled his cock out and then started to thrust into me, making my body jolt on the bed as each thrust became harder and faster. I put my arms up to hold the headboard and brace myself, and he fucked me hard, slamming his hips into mine, bruising me, punishing me, fucking me like he needed to do it as hard and fast as he could or he’d lose his damn mind.
His jaw was clenched, his breaths ragged, and his fingers gripped my thighs so tightly I knew he’d leave marks, but I didn’t care.
“So fucking tight,” he hissed, as his punishing thrusts made the headboard bang on the wall and the bed creak from the effort.
Every thrust sent me spiralling, hurtling towards the mother of all orgasms. My walls gripped him tightly as his pierced cock massaged me in a way that sparked pure ecstasy. I was about to enter another plane of hedonistic pleasure. One I never even knew existed, and my body could barely handle the intensity.
His thrusts became more erratic as he rutted into me, and I knew he was close too.
“Come on, Little Killer,” he grunted. “Come on my cock like a good girl.” And I did, pulsing so hard I almost blacked out as my back arched off the bed and every one of my muscles locked.
My pussy squeezed his cock hard as my walls contracted around him, and I felt him thicken inside me as he came too, coating me with his cum, giving me everything he had to give.
“Oh, fuck yes,” he cried as he kept rutting into me, his cock pulsing and throbbing.
We rode our orgasms, cries of pleasure filling the air as we both grunted, moaned and panted.
Eventually, the fireworks became sparks, and then as they ebbed away, leaving us sated and spent, Isaiah lay down next to me and pulled me into his arms.
We didn’t speak for a while. I don’t think either of us could find the words. Eventually, I said, “I didn’t expect my night to end like this.”
“You and me both, Little Killer,” he groaned quietly in my ear. “You and me both.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
ISAIAH
Iheld her in my arms as she slept, totally sated, and I revelled in the warm, satisfied feeling that holding her created. Something I hadn’t had enough of, and something I wanted to experience more and more.
Her soft curls spread over the pillow, tickling my skin, and her short, shallow breaths seemed to ease everything. It wasn’t often that I lay still, my brain calm and my body relaxed, but with her, now, I did. The scent of her bed linen and her was intoxicating, and I closed my eyes, breathing deeply to soak it all in. As seconds turned to minutes, I started to drift off myself.
And then, I felt her shudder in my arms.
She was having a nightmare again. After what’d happened over the last twenty-four hours, I wasn’t surprised. But as she started to whimper and cry, her body shaking like a leaf, I held her tighter, shushing in her ear and telling her, “It’s okay. I’m here.”
I started to rock her, gently waking her from the nightmare that was holding her captive, and as she came to, sweat glittering on her beautiful face, she opened her eyes and turned in the bed to face me.
“Are you okay? I think you were having a nightmare.” I brushed the sweat-soaked hair out of her face as delicately as I could with my finger, as it clung to her skin. It wasn’t often I was gentle. In fact, I don’t think I’d ever been that way with anyone since adulthood, but for her, I was.
“I’m fine.” She swallowed and then asked, “Did I say anything?”
“No. But I’m guessing you were dreaming about what happened tonight, and not the good part.”
The creases in her forehead told me I might be off the mark, and when she said, “No, it’s not that,” I had to know what it was. I was a tenacious bastard.
