Page 8 of A Fine Line

He steps closer, pressing me back into the wall, his cock pushing against my stomach, and I press myself into him. The hand I tried to bite moves behind me and squeezes my ass before running down the back of my thigh and lifting my leg that he then hooks around his waist.

I can only recall one other time when I’ve felt that pang of arousal, that deep heat inside me that yearns to be fucked, and it sends my blood soaring.

I don’t fight it. I lean closer to him as he presses into me fully, wishing our clothes would disappear and he was balls deep inside my throbbing cunt. I hiss out, “Yeah. That’s it, you fucking asshole. Don’t you wanna take out that loathing on my pussy?”

His free hand comes up and slaps over my mouth, and he grits out, “Shut your fucking mouth. I don’t wanna hear another fucking word out of you, or I’ll edge you and then stuff you back in the box with your hands tied behind your back so you can’t find relief.”

I contemplate my choices, seriously considering calling his bluff to find out if I like it, but I keep my mouth shut because, right now, I need to come. I don’t know why; I have no idea if I’m running toward something or away from something, but the painful ache between my legs matches the painful ache in my chest, and I need to assuage it. I need him to gather every ounce of hatred and loathing he has for me and shove it into me so hard and fast that all I can do is scream incoherently.

So, I nip and lick his palm, my eyes boring into his in challenge. He moves his hand from my mouth, wiping my saliva on my cheek before pressing his wet hand against my throat. He squeezes, and all the pent-up desire I’ve held hidden inside me over the last few years boils to the surface, and I give up any semblance of pretending.

I drop my leg back to the floor, my hands coming between us, and I unbuckle his belt, then unfasten, and unzip his jeans, pushing them down out of the way of my seeking hands. I bite back a groan as my hand touches the hot skin of his hard cock, not at all surprised to find he’s commando under his pants.

I don’t bother teasing him. I wrap both hands around his cock, stroking firmly up and down his shaft and then rubbing my palm over the tip, smearing the pre-cum around.

I move to drop to my knees, my mouth open in invitation, but his hands on my upper arms stop me. I raise my eyes to his, and he says, “As much as I’d love to stuff that lying fucking mouth with my cock, that’s not what you want.”

I frown, ready to say otherwise, but he continues, “Do you want me to fill your wet pussy with my huge fucking dick? Do you want me to ram it in until it hurts? Until you’re screaming and wailing for me to stop while also begging me to never stop?”

My cunt thrums, the clenching almost painful. I nod. “Yes.”

He knocks my hands out of the way, unfastening and unzipping my pants, then wedging his hand inside. There’s no soft touch, no hesitation, as he slides his fingers right where I want him. “You’re fucking drenched for me. Did you spend all that time in the box dreaming about my dick inside you?”

I choke out a sobbing laugh and gasp, “No. Not at all. I spent all that time thinking about what a stupid fucking asshole you are—“

He glares at me as he slides two fingers deep inside me, cutting off any further insults I might have wanted to throw at him to piss him off. “Stupid, huh? Do my fingers inside your dripping cunt feel stupid?”

I shake my head almost violently, but I can’t form any words as he twists his hand, and the base of his palm presses into my clit. He moves his free hand up, grabbing the hair at the base of my skull and yanking my head back so I’m looking him in the eyes. My mouth falls open, and I’m nothing more than incoherent moans and gasps as I gyrate my hips, looking for more friction. The self-satisfied look on his face makes me seethe, but all I can think about is getting off.

Without warning, he pulls his hand out from between my legs, his other hand releasing my hair before he yanks my pants down around my hips. “Are you on birth control?”

My heart stops in my chest for a moment, my arousal suddenly tampered by his question, and I shake my head as I reply, “I can’t get pregnant. But you should still use a condom. I haven’t been tested in a long time. It’s not safe for you.” I force the words out as my eyes focus on a spot on the wall behind him.

His body tenses, and his hand grips my chin firmly, forcing me to look at him. “What are you saying?”

I shrug, attempting to pull my face from his hand, but his grip tightens, and I’m forced to look him in the eye as I reply, “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

His grip tightens painfully as he grits out, “Are you saying someone fucked you without your permission?” I don’t respond, but my lack of response has the look in his eyes going completely pitch-black as he continues, “Who was it?”

I grind my teeth together, my lips pressed into a tight line. I raise my chin obstinately even as I push back the burning behind my eyes. I shake my head in his grip but say nothing, so he speaks again. “We’ll get that list later. But remember, no one touches you without your permission, and that includes me.”

The weight on my chest is excruciating, but his gaze on mine is unflinching, and I feel like he’s staring directly into my soul as he asks, “Do I have permission to touch you? To fuck you?”

And just like that, the weight on my chest eases, and I manage to take a deep breath. I didn’t feel at any point in our interaction that I was being forced, but maybe there was that tiny little voice inside me that was conditioned to accept the inevitable spiral that drives me. So, I say, “Quit your fucking romantic bullshit and fuck me already.”

He glares at me, one of his hands grabbing my throat while his other hand grips my pants, and then he’s half-leading, half-pulling me around until he pushes me face-first over the arm of the couch. He releases my throat, yanking my pants halfway down my thighs, and then he’s yanking on the back of my thong, the lace burning the skin of my hips as it’s pulled free. I feel the hot tip of him pressing between my legs, and I squirm beneath him, craning my head around so I can look at him as I say, “Condom, Tony. Please.”

He freezes, then shakes his head as if he’s trying to clear his thoughts. He eases away from me and grabs his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling out a condom and tossing his wallet to the side. I breathe a sigh of relief and turn my head away, changing my focus to my hands pressed into the cushion of the couch beneath me.

Then he’s there again, pressing the tip of his dick against me and sliding it up and down teasingly. I push back against him in invitation. He slides in, just the tip, then stops and says, “You need a safeword, Carolina.”

I glance back over my shoulder and frown. “No, I don’t. Jesus fucking Christ, Tony. Stop stalling.”

He grips my hips with both his hands, pushing me down into the arm of the couch so I can’t keep rubbing against him. He stares at me calmly until I’m practically screeching in frustration. I don’t know what his game is, but I’ve already given him too much backstory, too clear of a glimpse into me, and I don’t want a fucking safeword. I don’t want an out. I want him to use that big dick to drill me right into the sofa until I’m a crying, screaming, blubbering mess. But he keeps staring at me, so I finally relent and say, “Fine. Red. You happy now?”

He doesn’t say anything or respond in any way; he drives his cock into me until his balls slap against my clit. My inner walls protest slightly, and I rotate my hips as he remains firmly pressed inside me. He waits a few moments, then pulls back slightly before driving back in, setting an easy rhythm. But I didn’t ask for easy, so I taunt him. “I thought you were going to fuck me, asshole. I didn’t realize you wanted to make love.”

“You’re such a fucking bitch. I told you to shut your fucking mouth.” He reaches over beside me, then his hand is in my hair again, and he’s yanking my head back and shoving something in my mouth. My lace thong. “If you want me to stop while your mouth is full, pinch me. Hard.”

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