Page 84 of Paradox
My arms fall limp.
I have nothing more to give. But still, he keeps working me.
He knows how good it feels.
He’s teaching me what he can do.
He’s allowing me to fade because he knows I’m safe in his hands.
“You’re almost there again, aren’t you?”
Suddenly, my eyes shoot open and my hands slap against Eden's chest. With my nails digging in and my feet flexing, my mouth drops open, and, as I look straight at the man who has already become my undoing, I come for a second time. Thicker, more opaque, and a hell of a lot more of it splashes against our chests, my chin, and his lip.
His tongue darts out to clean it, and I’m done for.
Stepping back to me, Eden guides my head to rest against his shoulder, and walks me to the kitchen bench where he lays me down.
Keeping hold of my legs, he pushes them back together and holds them straight up.
He twists me so I’m on an angle, then puts both my feet over one of his shoulders and tugs me to the very edge of the bench.
Wrapping an arm behind my slightly bent knees so he can hold them tightly together, he quickly shoves his dick back between my weary thighs.
“Goddamn,” he curses as he pushes through as far as he can go. And within seconds, he’s pounding through me to the hilt with no signs of slowing.
It doesn’t take long for his other arm to circle my thighs and force them even tighter together. Then he’s jarring my body, jerking me forward.
I’m like a rag doll.
There’s so little strength in my body I’m struggling to keep my head still.
“That’s right, just lie there and take it. I’ve got you so fucked out, you couldn’t stop me even if you wanted to.”
His words are harsh, but they sound so sweet.
“God–fucking–damnit, Jin. What the hell have you done to me?”
Through my post–cum stupor, I smile.
There’s no clarity for me. No epiphany as to why it makes me feel so good to have him treat me this way. I just know that I came harder than I ever have in my life, and that my lower back will be purple when I wake up tomorrow from how hard Eden is slamming me against the edge of the counter.
His face is almost completely obstructed by his hair.
The octopus tattoo that spans most of his lower stomach is covered with so much oil it looks like it’s wet.
The squelching slap of our skin.
The bang of my body against the wood.
Eden’s animalistic grunts.
The mushrooms on the counter beside me.
The fish in the sink.
His dirty clothes, and my clean ones in a pile on the floor.
Everything in the entire cabin is coated with a thick layer of us.
