Fourteen
P
I looked at the clock.
2:16.
He should be back soon. I prayed he’d be back soon.
The nervous energy that was coursing through me needed an outlet, and I was out of things to do. I’d made dinner and shared it with Bunica, and then had taken her home, fretting over the old woman as she walked, something she had made clear she didn’t appreciate.
Then I’d come back to the empty house and cleaned the kitchen, finding solace in the domesticity. It was fake, but it didn’t feel it. In fact, it was so easy to get caught up in it, so easy to pretend that this was my life, my home, that he was my man.
In spite of how much I’d tried to keep myself from giving in to the fantasy, I was powerless not to.
The sound of the door opening and closing made my heart soar. That I was even here and awake was proof that I was completely gone. As I’d walked back from Bunica’s, I’d told myself I wouldn’t wait up for him, laughed out loud after because I knew it was a lie.
I was waiting up for him, relief, excitement growing with each step that brought him closer to me.
When he finally entered, I saw that he was wired like he had been after the first fight, intense in a way that made my pussy clench in anticipation. I squeezed my thighs together, which did nothing to stop that throbbing pulse, and after a moment, I stood.
I felt breathless under his gaze, but I started to speak anyway, wanting to break some of the sweet tension of this moment. “I made…”
I trailed off as he approached me, and breathed out hard when he reached for my face and tilted it, his gaze studying me intently as some emotion I couldn’t read passed over his face. I had emotions of my own, a riot of them, but none more acute than how naked I felt as he watched me, how exposed. None more surprising than how much I didn’t care that I was.
When he brushed his lips against mine, the gentle caress was completely at odds with the rigid intensity in his body. He molded his soft lips against mine, teasing, coaxing, leaving me even more breathless.
But the soft moment was short-lived.
He ended the kiss abruptly and when I looked into his eyes, I saw that edge was still there, one that made me nervous but made me want to smooth it away even more. And then I saw the wall. Ioan spun me, trapping my body between the wall and him, and I again marveled at how good a cage made of Ioan felt.
His thick fingers pressed into my hip, his hold hard enough, strong enough to remind me of what he’d done with those hands today. Knowing that should have changed how I felt, cooled some of the burning need for him.
But it didn’t. His fingers against my skin, knowing that they could bring pain yet only brought me pleasure made me want him more.
I moan and pressed my face against my hands, which were propped on the wall, sighing when a shift of my hips sent a rush of moisture flowing from me. He moved closer, his chest against my back, my breasts smashed against the wall. The warmth and hardness of his body was almost overpowering, as was his insistently hard cock throbbing against my ass.
I was desperate for him, wanted to plead, but I kept my words in, let myself thrill in the knowledge that he would take me when he saw fit, give us both what we wanted. A moment later, he pushed my underwear down, and a split second after, he thrust slightly, nudging the crown of his cock against me.
His chest still trapping me against the wall, he reached for my thighs and wrenched them apart, holding me up as I struggled to regain my balance. I’d only barely resettled myself when he thrust again, sandwiching his hard shaft between my slick pussy lips. The satin softness and mix of hardness made me buck, but I could hardly move, his strong hands and chest holding me in place.
When I finally stilled completely, he shoved himself inside me with no preparation. I was wet enough to take him, but flinched at the first sharp pain of his entry. He didn’t wait for me to adjust, and instead thrust hard and then harder, not an inch between our bodies or an inch between me and the wall.
His weight at my back was heavy, almost crushing, and his grip on my thighs would leave bruises.
I didn’t care.
I welcomed his rough treatment, his harsh breath at my ear, his fingers digging deeper into my skin, cock pounding into my cunt relentlessly. Loved it. The intensity of his claiming me, the way he sought me to soothe his ragged edges. All of it made me feel special, treasured.
Loved.
I gasped as that word rocked through my brain, and moments later sent me spiraling, the orgasm that exploded through me taking my breath away.
Ioan
P sighed when I closed my lips around her nipple, sighed deeper when I grazed the tight bud with my teeth and then scraped my tongue across the offended spot.
I’d never tire of hearing that sound.