Page 27 of Beg Me
"Fuck," he groans, his rhythm faltering as my body squeezes him. "So good for me."
He drives into me a few more times before stiffening, a low growl escaping him as he comes.
For a moment, we stay frozen in that position—me bent over the bed; him buried inside me. Then he gently withdraws, and I feel empty in his absence.
"Don't move," he says, his voice gentler now but still commanding.
I feel him withdraw from me, leaving me aching and empty. My mind is still hazy with pleasure, my body limp against the mattress. I listen as the rubber is pulled from his dick and he knots the end, tossing it away. I expect him to clean us both up, to start the gentle aftercare I've come to crave as much as the intensity that precedes it.
Instead, I feel his fingers slide between my thighs, I hear the sound of his groan as he finds how wet I am.
"What are you—" I begin, but my words dissolve into a gasp as he pushes his fingers back inside me, sliding his own come deeper into my pussy.
"You think we're done?" His voice is low, dangerous in a way that makes my spent body somehow stir again. "I'm not finished with my filthy little toy yet."
His fingers work inside me, curling to find that spot that makes my vision blur. His thumb circles my clit, already oversensitive from my orgasm.
"Colt," I whimper, my hips jerking involuntarily. "I can't—it's too much."
"You can," he says with absolute certainty. "And you will. Because you're my perfect little slut, aren't you? Made to take whatever I give you."
The degradation hits differently now—sharper, more intense against my raw nerves. I should be offended, but instead, I feel myself getting wetter, my body responding to his filthy words despite my brain's protests.
"Please," I beg, not even sure if I'm asking him to stop or continue. "I'm so sensitive."
"Look at you," he murmurs, his fingers never slowing. "Stuffed with my cum, and still hungry for more. Such a greedy little slut."
His free hand delivers a sharp slap to my already tender ass, and I cry out as the sting reignites the heat from the paddle.
"Tell me what you are," he demands, fingers working faster inside me.
"I'm your—" I break off with a sob as pleasure builds too quickly, too intense. "Your cum dump. Your greedy slut."
"That's right," he says, satisfaction heavy in his voice. "My perfect little mess."
I bury my face in the bedspread, overwhelmed by the sensations. My body feels like it's being pulled apart and put back together with each stroke of his fingers.
"I can't," I sob, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. "Please, it's too much."
"Color?" he asks, his fingers slowing but not stopping.
I take a shuddering breath, searching myself. Despite my protests, my body is responding, building toward another peak I didn't think possible. "Green," I whisper, surprising myself.
"I thought so." I can hear the smirk in his voice. "I think you can take one more for me. I think you want to."
His fingers curl inside me, pressing harder against that spot that makes my toes curl. His thumb circles my clit with maddening precision.
"You're going to come again," he says, not a question but a statement of fact. "You're going to come while I tell you what a filthy little slut you are, dripping with my seed and begging for more."
"Oh god," I moan, my hips rocking back against his hand despite my oversensitivity. "Please?—"
"Please what?" he demands, increasing his pace. "Please stop? Or please make you come again like the insatiable little toy you are?"
I can't answer, can't form words as pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak. My entire body trembles, caught between too much and not enough.
"That's it," he murmurs, watching me fall apart. "Give me one more. Show me how much of a dirty girl you really are."
His words push me over the edge. I come with a broken cry, my body convulsing around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash through me. It's almost painful in its intensity, my oversensitive nerves firing all at once.
