Page 14 of Bottoms Up
Today was about giving hereverything.
I’d been so worried while she was off with Mordecai. I needed to make her feel good. Needed tofeelher again—every inch of her, every scream, every moan, every clench of her muscles around me.
* * * *
Silver
Julian has more power over me during sex than anyone else ever has. Even the people I gave full twenty-four/seven power to. He reaches into my brain and rewires it. Bends my body around need and pain and pleasure until I don’t know where I am. Who I am. Just what he makes of me.
Sometimes, his bite sends me flying straight into orgasm. Other times, it drowns me in arousal so deep I can’t breathe, can’t beg, can’t find the way out until he lets me, until he bites me again and catapults me into a release that leaves me dizzy and spent. Wrung out.
Right now, I was past thought, past control, and wound up so tight I was in danger of self-combusting if he didn’t let me find release, but there was no mercy in my Sir on this day.
He fucked my ass like a madman while the damned cock ring on my dick shocked me on some kind of rotating random torment loop — a cruel wave of mild zaps, a sharp spike, long-and-buzzing-waves, sharp spike, sharp spike, sharp spike, mild zap, sharp spike.
My cock was like marble against the bolster, grinding with every thrust, and I was terrified I’d come without permission. I couldn’t stop rubbing against the towel beneath me. I was seconds from making a mess.
“I need a condom, Sir!” I shouted, desperate. “I’m gonna—”
He pulled out of my ass without warning, lifted me like I weighed nothing, shoved a towel beneath me, then slammed back into my ass just as fast. No pause. No mercy.
“I don’t think you’re as close as you think, but that should take care of it if you are.”
I tried to relax and let the orgasm loose. God, I tried — I clenched, relaxed, visualized the small spasms starting — but it stayed out of reach. Taunting me.
“Damn it!” I shouted, and Sir moved one of his hands to my back, caressed it a few seconds, a moment of tenderness before he gripped my hipbone again, his hips continuing to piston.
“Poor littlepasticcina, can’t find release again until her mean vampire bites her.”
Now he was calling me a sweet pastry, another of his favorite terms — I guess since he likes drinking from me so much. He’d originally told me it meant cupcake, but I found out later it’s technically a pastry, which I suppose is the Italian version of a cupcake, so close enough.Something he wants to devour.
I screamed again when his cock hit a spot deep inside me, the one that made me see stars. Everything was too much — stretched, shocked, filled, denied. Every nerve ending raw and desperate.
“Please, Sir!Sofucking horny! Please help me! Please let me come!”
“When I’m good and done with you,stellina, and not a moment before.”
His little star, and I’m pretty sure that’s a play on words. It’s an Italian term of endearment, sure, but in this case, he says I’m an American pop star, so I’m pretty sure he means it both ways.
I wanted to cry from how much I loved him in that moment.
“Please, Sir!”
“Oh, you beg so pretty,il tesoro. Tell me how badly you need to find release.”
“Please let me come, Sir! I’ll go crazy if I can’t!”
“Crazy with lust,mon trésor, just the way I like you.”
My whole world narrowed to the relentless pounding of his cock, the throb of overstimulation from the TENS, the unbearable heat curling low in my gut. I couldn’t hold back the sounds anymore. I couldn’t hold anything.
And then he leaned in.
I felt the pierce of his fangs in my shoulder this time — none of his anesthetic venom this time, he clearly wanted me to feel every millimeter of fangs entering me, taking me,drinkingme. Deep pulls, slow and greedy, draining my lifeblood straight from my body into his.
My body seized, not from pain, but from surrender.
This. This was the thing that undid me. Not his cock. Not the shocks. Not even the stretch of my raw, used ass.
