Page 13 of Eden's Deliverance

That can’t possibly be true when he’s using his fingers as a tongue depressor like some crazy, pervy doctor. He doesn’t pull away—not through my whimpering or cries for mercy—but he also doesn’t do more than I’m ready for.

That’s when I realize he’s waiting patiently for me to follow his orders. He wants me to show him I can listen and be obedient.

Though my attempt is a sad one, it’s an attempt nonetheless.

Breathing only through my nostrils, I open my throat up for him and accept my fate. He’s not gentle about it in the slightest; his fingers pump relentlessly into my mouth, only stopping momentarily for him to shush me through my panicked gagging.

I should probably feel embarrassed about needing to be coached through something as simple as breathing, but I can’t be bothered. Just when I’m finally starting to get good at taking him without choking, he pulls his fingers out.

I hate to say I’m disappointed, but even I can admit that was hot as fuck.

If this is the foreplay, how kinky is the sex?

There’s a shifting on the bed, then he stuffs my pussy with the same fingers he just used to feed me my own tangy arousal. Despite working through the attack on my throat, all that goes out the window when it comes to the way he’s fingerfucking me.

I don’t know exactly what he’s doing, but it’s like nothing I’ve experienced before. If it didn’t feel so fucking good, I’d be concerned about the aching pressure against my bladder. It’s too complicated of a sensation to call painful, but there’s an odd discomfort mixed with a steady wave of pleasure.

“Please...” I’m nearly in tears, but I don’t know if I need him to stop or keep going—I just need to come. I’m hovering right on the ledge, but he won’t give me what I need to dive off.

Although I have the power to stop him, I’m doing my best to relinquish control. He clearly knows more than I do here, but he’s taking his sweet time getting to the point.

The more I wriggle around, the more frustrated he becomes. He fucks into me like a madman, thrusting faster and harder with every reactive shift of my hips until I’m left a blubbering mess.

When he’s had enough of it, he rips his fingers out and gets off the bed. I take the reprieve as a gift, but he comes back full force. He pinches my cheeks until my lips separate with a whine, then I feel a rough cloth being shoved behind my teeth.

“No. Fucking. Talking,” he hisses, placing his palm over my mouth. “You’re going to lie there and take it, or you won’t get anything at all.”

I mayhavea pussy, but I’ve never acted like one.

And we all know how I feel about threats.

Even though I’m enjoying myself, pulling this primal aggression from him feeds my fucking soul. It’s sexy as hell and I want more of it, so he can’t blame me for the mumbling that comes out through the fabric in my mouth. Unfortunately for him, it’s just in my nature to fight dirty.

A little egging-on never hurt anybody.

I feel the bed dip again before he turns me into a rag doll, effortlessly flinging my calves over his shoulders before burying his head between my thighs. His angry, heavy breath assaults me, and I can’t help but raise my hips in an attempt to delocalize the intense blaze of heat.

SMACK.

Did this goddamn caveman just slap my bare pussy?

My scream is instinctual, though it didn’t necessarily hurt. My stinging flesh is begging for any kind of attention, soothing or not. Honestly, I’d take another slap.

Anything.

He doesn’t make me wait long before answering my prayers, but instead of smacking me again, his wide tongue licks a wet path from my ass to clit.

I’d apologize for squirming if I wasn’t drowning in complete euphoria, letting my vocal cords finally sing into the gag silencing me. Despite my—clearly more earnest than before—fidgeting, he doesn’t punish me like he threatened to.

His tongue doesn’t stop its sumptuous dance around my clit, but he does dig his fingers into my thighs with a force that draws a pained cry from my throat when he struggles to hold me down. I won’t be surprised if I’m covered in bruises tomorrow, nor will I care.

I’m overcome with the need to grab onto something, but I have nothing besides the chain of the handcuffs tying me down. I want to come so badly, and I’m so fucking close I can taste it. His tongue laps at my clit in perfect, uniform motions that leave me shaking with full-bodied tremors. But when he reintroduces the pressure of those two fingers to the upper wall of my pussy, I'm in shambles.

He's got me climbing higher and higher, and I can hear his own animalistic rumbles of hunger as he feasts, finally sending me towards the precipice of Eden’s promised salvation. Then, everything stops.

Everything.

There are no hands wrestling my hips down, no magical tongue stealing pleasure from deep within my soul, no fingers abusing my G-spot. I’m completely bereft of all physical touch—at the exact fucking moment I need it.

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