Page 91 of The Art of Obsession
With a growl, I force her upper half back until she’s arched against the tile, my dick still buried in her. One hand chains her wrists to her stomach, and with the other, I slap her mound. My strikes are hard and punishing, and yet, she lifts her hips, silently wanting more.
“Dirty girl,” I mutter and bring my hand down again, targeting her clit.
“Ow! Enough already!” .
“God, you’re wet, so slutty, so filthy.” I lower my fingers to her folds, soaked and slippery from her arousal, labia inflamed from my palm.
“Just let me come!”
“Not until you confess,” I tell her, pinching her clit. I touch her left nipple. She cries out, writhing, her wrists strugglingagainst my hold, but my muscles bulge, far stronger. I slide out of her ass halfway, then spear her again, covering her mouth with mine to consume her scream.
I lift my hand from her breast to her throat, reminding her of my control. Squeezing her throat, I constrict her air while feeding her my own. She must surrender, knowing I hold her life in my hands.
“Cal!” she rasps, her nails clawing at my hands.
When her skin turns pale, I release her throat, freeing her to gasp, taking in a deep gust of air from my lungs.
I drive myself deeper and deeper inside her ass. She’s gripping me like a clamp, and I sense her pussy muscles squeezing. Withdrawing completely, I push back inside again, repeating the process, swallowing her whines as I plunder her mouth, tongue flicking against hers.
It’s taking all my willpower to keep from coming. I bite her lower lip to regain some control. Hard enough to draw blood and make her whimper before I lick the blood from the plush flesh.
“Come now, Little Quill.” I hover above her lips, pulling her eyes to mine. “Tell me, for science purposes. Swallow your fucking pride. And tell me. Is this tight, soaked cunt aching?” I palm her, sliding two fingers to the knuckle. “Tell me how good my cock feels inside your ass. No more lies. I dare you to lie to me, to tell me you don’t want this. You love when your master fucks you with his big cock.”
Her eyes meet mine, glazed but burning. Her thighs shake. Her breaths are tattered. But I can sense her softening, the battle retreating, her white flag raising.
When I feel her inner muscles fluttering, I pull my fingers out, slam my hand down on her again, and jerk out my cock.
“Please!” she whines, throwing her head back.
“That’s better. Please what, Everleigh?”
Coiling a hand around her neck, I pull her face back to mine, prime my length at her anal opening, and linger here. “Beg me, Little Quill. Beg me to fuck your tight, little ass, fuck you harder than ever.”
I brandish my worst dirty expression, dangerous and carnal. Heat thrashes in my blood. My cock throbs, needing her more than ever, but I can see her will crumbling.
One flutter of her eyelashes. Then, Everleigh narrows her gray war storm eyes on mine, and parts her lips to say, “Fine, you bastard! Please fuck me. Fuck my ass.”
“Tell me to punish you,” I growl, anchoring my hand at the base of her neck.
“Ugh, punish me. Please just fuck me!” The last word leaves in a screech.
Releasing her wrists, I grip her hips and slam her down on my cock.
As I fuck her ass to hell, the reflection of the water of the tanks ripples along her skin in golden currents, reminding me of some siren from the shimmery pools of heaven. My sweet historian clutches my arms, digging her nails into my biceps as I thrust, filling her ass with my thick girth, fucking her.
When she lowers her fingers to her clit, I smirk. “That’s right, my horny girl. You play with that pretty clit. Take your pleasure. Take it from me. Come with me.”
With a furious rubbing of that swollen nub, with one great stab inside her ass, our climaxes tear through us like a tidal wave. She wrecks me, clamping down so hard, she smothers my dick as I shoot my cum inside her. Then fall against her, collapsing against her body.
Once we come down from the high, I slap the tile beside her and touch my lips to her jaw. “Fucking owned.”
Breathless, my sweet Everleigh tips her head onto my shoulder and murmurs, “Moon and stars, Cal.”
I pull out immediately. I will honor my word to her.
39
“This is not love, Little Quill. It’s stronger. It’s obsession.”
