Page 17 of Tormenting Me

“Yes… Wes. I understand. Only your name.” We’re both panting now. Kneeling on the bed, and in between my thighs, I finally see his cock. It has to be at least eight inches, thick and coming right toward me. “Nope,” the word leaves my lips as I try to scoot away. “There’s no way that’s going to fit.” Wes pulls me back.

“It will. We will make it fit, baby.”

Wes has one hand at the base of his cock, the other wrapped around my thigh, holding me in place. “Take a breath, Layne. Make sure you breathe through it if it’s painful.” I take a breath, and as he drags the head of his cock up and down my entrance making it wet. He then he pushes just the tip into my pussy, I scream out the breath. “Layne, relax. You’re tensing up.” I take a staggered breath, and he pushes in more. A tear falls down my cheek. “Hey.” I look at him. “Shh…You are okay,” his thumb wipes away the tear. “Let me in, Ma Petite Mort. Once you let me inside you, I can make the pain go away.”

I nod, relaxing my mind and my body, and eventually it lets him in and he thrusts the rest of the way in. He inches in and out, and he goes from watching himself inside of me to looking at my face and back, mesmerized. He reaches over and grabs a pillow, placing it under my head. “You okay?” The sharp burn is gone and it starts to feel good, the pain mixed with the sensation of being filled so entirely. As I nod yes, a moan escapes my lips when he hits a spot inside me that feels like delicious pressure waiting to be released. Wes leans into me, he’s no longer on his knees, but we’re chest to chest. With my thigh in his grip, he drives into me with a little more force.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last long in this tight pussy, Layne. I’m going to need you to come for me.” The feeling I was getting when he was eating me out was back, pooling deep in my core. With every thrust, it builds. I can feel the warmth spreading up through my belly

“Harder,” I whimper, needing to feel every inch of him now. Wes buries his face in the crook of my neck, and he moans. I don’t think I have ever heard something so sexy. This insane stalker, unraveling in between my legs.

“Good girl, Layne. You’re doing such a good job taking my cock.” My lips touch his neck, I suck and bite gently. The sound that escapes his lips could become addictive.

“Oh, fuck.” He whimpers.

Jesus fucking Christ, he whimpered. Fuck. Me. I’m done. Hello, Satan it’s Layne, you can drag me down to hell now for fucking my stalker as long as I can take this man with me.

I raise my hips to grind into his thrusts. Finally the pressure peaks and I come, crying out in ecstasy as as his lips crash down onto mine, moaning into his mouth. “Wes!” The waves of intense pleasure cascade as I am met with the sensation of his cock pulsing inside of me. His warm cum spills out of me as he pulls back. He falls on the bed next to me and lets out a sigh. “What?” I ask him, wondering if it wasn’t good or something.

“I thought I would last longer. Edging is not all it’s cut out to be.”

Chapter thirteen

Wes

Layne props herself up on her elbows, wincing as she shifts her thighs. “What’s edging again?” She asks, adjusting her glasses on her face.

Probably should have taken those off of her.

“You bring yourself to the point of orgasm and then you stop,” I say, smirking at the ceiling. I love her innocence. She is going to be fun to teach.

I look over as her eyes meet mine, and I can see the confusion etched on her face.

“That’s dumb. Why would someone torture themselves like that?”

I groan and roll back onto her, feeling the warmth of her body against mine as I cup her breast in my hand. My tongue swirling around her nipple, then drawing it into my mouth. I suck feeling her body arching into me in pleasure.

“Oh…fuck,“ I bring my hand down to her pussy and she is already wet again. One finger slips inside her while I switch to her other nipple, teasing her. She is underneath me, writhing in pleasure as my finger works her g-spot.

Layne tries to suppress a moan, but her face gives away the mixture of pleasure and pain she’s feeling. She doesn’t know which one to let take over. I’m already hard and ready to go again, and I intend to fuck her as many times as I can before I have to leave. I have a lot of catching up to do after three months of denying myself, and I’m making sure I get my fill. With a satisfying pop, I release her nipple from my mouth. I run my tongue slowly down her stomach, savoring the taste of her skin. Her skin is salty and sweet. The scent of her arousal is intoxicating, and I can feel the wetness on my tongue as I suck and lick her sensitive bud.

“Wes, Oh…Go…” I give her clit a gentle nibble, reminding her not to mention God. “Sorry…oh shit,” she whimpers into the pillow.

With a smirk on my face, I dive my tongue inside her, tasting her sweetness. The taste of her is mixed with something other than my cum. Blood. I fucking forgot she would bleed. My eyes take a look around, blood covers the sheets, my cock, and now surely my face. From between her legs, I look up and see her completely lost in pleasure. Fuck it. I dive back in and eat her pussy until she’s screaming, grabbing the sheets, and cursing.

Her body trembles as she comes for the second time, and her release drips down my chin, leaving me wanting more. As I sit up, she groans, “Oh no!” She hides her face in the pillow. My reflection stares back at me from the mirror above her dresser. The combination of our release and her blood covered my face, glistening in the light. Layne raised her head and grimaces at seeing the mess between her legs. “It looks like a murder scene,” she says, her cheeks turning bright red with embarrassment.

“Nah,” I chuckle, “a murder scene would be significantly worse. Trust me.“ Layne tries to scoot away from me, but I grab her by the knees and pull her back. “I’m not finished, Ma Petite Mort.“ I thrust inside of her in one swift motion and she bites her lip at the sensation. This time, I’m not as gentle. My thrusts are deep and merciless, I’m chasing my own release now.

Breathless, she asks, “Why do you call me Ma Petite Mort?”

I stop mid-thrust, and I adjust so I can look at her face. “The French use that to describe the feeling of an orgasm. The bliss is a little piece of death that we can experience while living. You are my little death. Every time I come inside you, I’ll get to experience that bliss.”

“But you called me that before we… you know.”

“Fucked. Had sex. Engaged in coitus as the nerds say.” I smirk.

“Right.” She chuckles.

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