And with that, I guided his dick into my cleft, sinking down and groaning softly. Despite the delicious orgasm I’d just had, I was still very sore from last night and there was a sting of pain raking along my pleasure, pain from the rough fucking he’d given my pussy and also from the pressure this position exerted on the other part he’d fucked.
He moved his hips underneath me, and I slapped his chest. “Stop it,” I said. “Stay still.”
He didn’t look happy but he obeyed. I took advantage of this and began rocking myself against him, not moving up and down, but grinding my clit against him as hard as I could, moving faster and faster. I could see the muscles jumping and twitching in Mr. Markham’s arms and chest as he fought himself from grabbing me and fucking me on his own terms. It was so deliciously foreign, having control, and I felt almost giddy as I ground down harder and faster, reaching up with both hands to hold my sweaty hair off my neck, which lifted my tits higher. His gaze was glued to them as I moved, as I became less graceful and more ferocious with my movements, my thoughts dying away as some primal part of me took over. There was only the building tightness low in my belly, only his thick cock spurring me on towards an encroaching summit.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Come, kitten. Come on me. Let me see how much you love my cock.”
I did love it and I did come, slow spasms of pleasure gathering and gathering as I bore down on his thick member, impaled myself on it like I had nothing else to live for, like there was nothing else but this one perfect part of this perfect man that I loved. And then, like a firework imported from the east, I ignited. Lit up and blew up in explosions of red and blue and gold, crying out as my womb clenched and squeezed around him.
He waited—impatient and hungry but still as a statue—as I rode out my pleasure on him, rode it hard and heedlessly, not caring what I looked like or sounded like. I slowly slumped forward, half lying on his chest with my face near his ear, his stone-hard organ still buried inside me.
His voice was low. “Wildcat. I’m feeling quite vicious at the moment. Are you going to let me come?”
“I want to see it,” I said, moving off him.
“What?”
“I want to see you come. I want to see you fill me with it.”
His cock throbbed. “Is that so?”
There was a mirror attached to the table that held his water ewer and basin. I moved a chair in front of the mirror and then angled the mirror to the side so that I would be able to see its reflection if someone were in front of me. I sat on
the edge of the chair and spread my legs. “Come here.”
He was there in a moment, his hair tousled and his manhood almost painfully veined and purpled as he knelt in between my legs.
“Put it inside of me,” I ordered.
“Christ,” he muttered and closed his eyes. “I can’t—when you talk like that—” He gripped my thighs, not moving. “I almost come when you say things like that.”
“I don’t care,” I told him honestly. “Do what I tell you.”
His jaw clenched and his eyes burned with something that looked very close to anger, and then he stabbed inside of me with one brutal stroke. I arched my back and whimpered with delight, with need. He stayed inside me for a moment, waiting for my next command.
“Make yourself come,” I said breathlessly. “But come hard. I want to see it spilling out of me.”
“Shit,” he swore, drawing himself out and then slamming back into me. Ruthless thrusts, barbaric thrusts, and God, nothing had ever felt better. Each slam pounded against my clitoris and each stroke dragged his wide crown against something inside that made me toes curl.
“Are you going to come again?” he asked, still pounding into me. “You like it when you’re fucked hard? You need it, don’t you? You need to be fucked by me all the time. Such a naughty kitten, needing to come so much.”
My fingernails were scratching his neck now, his shoulders and his chest, not in protest but in the helpless animalism he always brought out in me.
“I’m going to…” Even if I could have breathed, I wouldn’t have been able to finish my sentence, I was so far gone.
“Watch,” he said. “This is what you wanted, right? You wanted to see yourself filled up with cum. So look, wildcat, because I’m going fill you up good.”
He used one hand to grip my jaw and turn my gaze on the mirror, which showed me his tight ass pumping between my legs. I pulled my legs up, bracing my feet on the edge of the chair and exposing my pussy. Mr. Markham didn’t miss a single thrust, didn’t adjust his rhythm in the slightest. He kept fucking me, and now I could properly see the wide, slick cock pushing in and out of my pink folds.
“Here it comes,” he growled, and then his thrusts went long and violent, his head dropping as he pumped into me. I watched in the mirror, entranced at how my body responded to him, the way my cunt welcomed him to the root even as I could see his full load beginning to spill out of me. He grunted and shuddered, finally looking down at where we were joined, swallowing hard as he saw his seed dripping out of me.
“Did you like that?” he asked, reaching between us to stroke my clit. My orgasm—held temporarily at bay by my fascination—began to surge forward again and I rocked against his hand and his still-hard penis. “Do you like it when I come inside of you?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
“Good,” he said, his voice possessive and uncivilized. “Because I’m going to fill you up every day for the rest of your life.”
And then I exploded once again, filled with him, held by him, every part of me his, and yet still I wanted more.
