Page 89 of The Devil's Pawn

“Unzip me.”

His throaty voice does things to me I can’t explain. I’m consumed with an urge to please him, to care for him the way he’s cared for me. I pull down his zipper and reach into his boxers before pulling out his dick. The skin is softer than I thought it would be, like a steel rod encased in a satin sheath. I wrap my hand around the base, wonder causing me to stare.

He hisses through his teeth.

“Does that hurt?”

“No. It’s fucking incredible.” Somehow, he keeps me astride him and still manages to remove his jeans and boxers. “That’s better.” He clasps my hips and lifts me. “Ready?”

I nod.

“Keep holding it like that, okay? Don’t move.”

I thought he’d slowly lower me down, letting me adjust at my own pace. Instead, he thrusts up while slamming me down, impaling me in one fast move. A stabbing pain shoots through me, and I shriek.

“Easy. That’s it, sweet girl. Breath for me. Hard part’s over.”

He cradles my head and kisses me until my spine relaxes and I sink against him. He starts to move slowly, each stroke easing the sharp pain of penetration. After a few seconds of intense burning, the agony recedes, shifting into an unbelievable pleasure.

“Good girl.” Cradling my head, he kisses me, his tongue mirroring the movement of his hips. I’m a passenger as he lifts and lowers me, but soon I’m flying solo, instincttaking over. I grip onto his shoulders for balance, obeying his demand to look into his eyes.

He’s gone, a sheen of lust covering his irises, sweat dotted across his brow, and his hair damp at the ends where it brushes the base of his neck.

“God.God.”

He lifts me off him, slipping out, then lays me on my back. The tip of him nudges at me, sliding back inside easier this time, although the sting is there still, the stretching, the dull ache.

“That’s it. Good girl. Put your legs around my waist.”

I do, and he thrusts deeper, his hips moving wildly now, the base of his dick grazing my clit with every push forward.

“Come for me again, my good little girl.” He slides a hand between our bodies and homes in on my clit. “Squirt all over my dick.”

If I knew how I’d done it, I would, especially as he seems so turned on by it, but it happenedtome, notbyme.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Relax. Let your body guide you.” He strums my clit and kisses me again, and that same swell spreads through me. “I’m close, Imogen. Do you want my cum to fill your sweet cunt?”

He’s got the dirty talk down to a fine art. My body explodes, and that same gushing sensation charges through me. His head falls onto my shoulder as I pulse and shudder. He thrusts once, twice, a third time, then grunts, but apart from that, he’s silent. Still. His breath is hot on my neck, his tongue flicking out to taste my sweat.

“Fucking perfect,” he mutters against my ear. “You’re fucking perfect.”

“I made a mess,” I whisper.

“And what a beautiful mess it is.” He pulls out of me, and although he’s gentle, I hiss at the sting. I bring my legs together, but he pushes them apart and shimmy’s down the bed.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

With his head between my legs, he grins up at me. “Cleaning up my mess and yours.”

Chapter Thirty

ALEXANDER

Imogen squirting may be the singular most erotic moment of my life, but when she did it again, I felt like a fucking king. Knowing her inexperience, and that she’d felt comfortable and relaxed enough with me to have her body let go like that is proof that my go softly approach was the right one to take. Restraining myself long enough to ensure her first time wasn’t horrific and painful wasn’t easy, but the payoff… the payoff is one I’ll remember forever.

The sheets are soaked, but the bed is large enough that I’ve laid her down somewhere dry. As I part her legs, my cum drips out of her. My dick twitches. Give it another minute, and I’ll be ready to go again. I haven’t gotten hard this fast since I was in my early twenties.

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