Page 26 of Dirty Ink

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good around my cock.”

He sounded drugged, his deep voice growling in my ear. Like he couldn’t, wouldn’t stop as he drove his cock in and out of me. Such intoxicating friction. Such consuming fullness and delicious pressure.

“Such a good girl. My perfect girl.”

My hair fanned wildly around me. Strands clung to the sweat on my face. I could feel it trapped beneath my drenched back, soaking into the top still bunched around my waist. I felt wild. Feral. My nails dug into his muscled back, his wide shoulders, his rounded ass. His skin was slick with sweat and it seemed every time I found purchase, only to slip again. I was sure I was tearing his skin. Leaving long, angry red marks. Drawing blood even.

But for us it didn’t matter. There was nothing in the world but our bodies clashing. Nothing but our demanding rhythm. Nothing but his mouth against my ear, muttering pretty obscenities that sent shivers up and down my spine.

“This tight little pussy is going to be the end of me.”

Mason was grunting and I was screaming with the effort of holding my orgasm back. He didn’t make it easy for me, fucking me somehow faster, somehow harder.

“Good girl.”

He reached in between us, his thumb pressing on my clit.

“Come. Come so hard, you choke on my fucking name.”

There was no name but his. No name before or after. No one had ever fucked me like he was fucking me. No one had ever held my body so tight. Had ever filled me so fully. Made my fingertips and my eyelids and my lips all buzz, all tingle, all hum like I was fucking high. Made me curse and adore him.

When I came, I screamed his name. I screamed it against his throat. Against his vein pumping hot blood toward his heart as each wave of pleasure slammed into me.

Again and again, I screamed until my throat was raw and I choked.

I collapsed, limp as a rag doll as Mason’s rhythm grew irregular, erratic. The way he was looking down at me, all haze and hooded eyes, I knew he was close. Gripping his shoulders, I took him by surprise by heaving us over the side of the couch. He ended up on his back and I ended up on top of him. I barely felt my knees bruising against the floor.

I bucked my hips before he could question what the fuck had happened. My tits bounced as I fucked Mason as hard and fast and rough as he’d fucked me. So that my name was the only one. I fucked him so he’d remember. So he’d never forget.

With my nails digging into his chest beneath me, I hissed, “Your turn to choke.”

When he came he screamed my name. Screamed it like I’d never heard it screamed. Like never before. I didn’t know it then, but never again.

He screamed it until he choked.

Mason

Now…

I sank against the couch and the world spun wildly around me.

The low lights of the bar expanded into starbursts that twisted like pinwheels as I turned my head. The last few stragglers before the inevitable last call all had at least two heads as they bent over cheap pints of beer or fingerprint-smudged shot glasses that had seen a refill or two too many. Not that I was judging. Like I said, my own world was spinning. In more ways than one.

I rolled my head to the right and narrowed my eyes at Rachel as she clumsily scratched at the label of her beer bottle. Her hair was tucked behind her ear so I could see the fullness of her cheek, the softness of her chin. In the dim light and in the drunkenness that was making it hard to focus, I saw the woman I fell in love with all those years ago. I saw her laughing. Saw her dragging me behind her to that theatre. Saw her switching on that lamp in her dressing room.

But no matter how hard I stared, eyes all squinted, vision all wobbly, I couldn’t see her extending a hand toward mine. I couldn’t see her saying “Yes” in a white dress. I couldn’t see her in my arms as I carried her back down the aisle.

I wanted to remember that moment. I wanted to have it forever, like Rachel had. Or at least like Rachel said she had.

“Why now?” I asked over the low blare of the single saxophonist in the practically unlit corner.

On the couch beside me Rachel looked up, rather startled. She was just as wasted as I was. If not more. Had she forgotten that I was there? Was it that easy?

“What?” she said, a little too loudly.

She laughed a little. Hiccupped. One of us was going to make a mistake tonight. That was for damned sure.

“Why now?” I asked again.

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