Page 115 of Paradox
I draw my hands up beside my head as he tears my sweats completely off with one hand while the other keeps me flat against the wood.
“You’re gonna get so used to being in this position, you’ll do it automatically every time I walk through the front door.”
With all my power torn away, my head floats.
Eden slaps me harder than he ever has before, and the heat that radiates from it is threateningly addictive.
I hear him spit in his hand, then he smacks it against my hole.
He drags his fingers up and down, once, twice, three times, then shoves his middle one inside.
My mouth lolls open, but my moan is silent as he digs in, as deep as he did last week. It’s short lived, though, because I can feel him shuffling behind me; his finger slipping free when he straddles my calves to push the coffee table, and me with it, further away from the sofa.
His cracked and swollen lips press against my lower back.
He kneads my thighs with both hands as his kisses move lower.
Then his huge hands are lifting me.
My cheek squeaks on the wood as the weight of my upper body is forced onto my face and hands when he puts my knees on the coffee table.
His tongue is like fire against my balls and taint, and the fact that he’s being so light when his fingers were so intrusive has a low growl forming in my chest.
The exhale of his smirk is cold against my skin, and I clench.
Now it’s Eden's turn to growl then spit on my rim, gradually adding the pressure I’m so desperate for.
His lips, his tongue, how he sucks, the pulsing of his fingers, all have me shaking in his clutches.
I’m getting hard again—something I never thought possible.
He starts to dig, pressing just inside me.
It’s heaven, but I instantly want more.
I squeeze his finger, dying for more pressure.
He slips back out then fills me with two.
There’s no shocking sting this time, only pure relief.
His jabs are shallow; his palm massaging against my balls.
My nails scratch across the coffee table as I squeeze my hands.
He thrusts deeper, his fingers curving.
I know what’s coming. And I finally let out the cry I’ve been trying so hard to hold in.
He pulls back to purposely anger me.
I kick at his ribs, and he laughs.
I feel wetness drip down my crack, then an intense stretch.
Three long, calloused fingers dig at my ass—so much deeper at this angle; scooping at me with each draw back.
He’s punishing me and giving me everything I want all at once.
