Page 11 of Don't Hate Me
“Then why do I have your nail impressions imbedded in my skull?”
“Don’t know,” I muttered just letting myself feel how replete I was. All those days of agony in the hospital, fixed by Marc’s magical tongue.
“Hmm. Well, I’ll have to do better next time. Now, do you want to fuck, or do you want to try to learn how to suck dick?”
“Yes, please.”
He laughed again. Then held out a hand so he could propel me off the couch. I was naked and wrapped all around him. “You’ve had a rough few weeks, so I’m going to take it easy on you and fuck you nice and slow. I’ll do all the work and all you have to do is come again.”
“Do you have condoms?” I asked.
He walked over to his duffel bag and pulled out a box with a fairly high count. He looked at it. Then at me. “We have the week until your father comes.”
I nearly fainted from the expectation of pleasure. Marc was going to fuck me for days this time. Not just hours. I sprinted towards the bedroom and he followed with the box in his hand.
Laying myself out on top of the bed, I waited until he was looking at me to spread my legs and cup my breast with one hand.
“Tease your nipple,” he told me, even as he shucked his shirt. Then his jeans. His cock sprang free and I reached for it, but he stepped back. Instead he ripped open a condom he’d pulled from the box and sheathed himself. “I need to fuck you first. Then we can play. I’m too wound up after tasting you. If you touch me, I’ll blow.”
Nodding, I watched him climb on the bed. Watched as he pushed my thighs even further apart, almost to the point of pain. Then he grabbed one of the many pillows behind me and thrust it under my ass, lifting me for him just a little.
He took hold of himself and brought his dick to my entrance, and, slowly, maybe even more slowly than he had the first time, he pressed himself deep inside me. It still stung. I was still tight, but now I knew what came next. He rolled his hips and I grunted. He pulled himself out and pushed himself back in and I adjusted around him with a soft sigh. He leaned down to kiss me, and I sucked his tongue into my mouth, and, for a while, it was just that. Slow thrusts, tongues touching, lips kissing.
It was perfect. Until it wasn’t. Until I needed more. Until I was grabbing his ass and lifting my hips, demanding he give it to me.
“Harder?”
I made a noise which he took to mean yes. Because then he gave it to me. Harder and rougher and faster. My head thrashed on the pillows because I couldn’t take it. He was too consuming. Too overwhelming. Every part of my being was focused between my legs, and what it felt like for him to keep ramming his big, hard dick inside me.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said in time with his thrusts. “You’re so fucking tight, so fucking hot. So fucking mine. Come, come.”
I screamed and felt my body explode around him. Felt my pussy clamp down hard on him so he was grunting, too. These sounds were so indelicate. So animalistic I didn’t think I would ever make them, but I did, without shame.
He pulled away then, and slid the condom off with one stroke. Then he was between my legs, working his cock hard with his hand. His eyes were closed, his neck was corded with bulging muscles, then I felt the splash of his cum on my stomach. On my tits. Stream after stream until he was spent.
Only then did he look at what he’d done. I started to move my hand as I felt a drip about to roll off my nipple, but he stopped my hand, pinning both of them to the bed.
“No, I need to see you like this. I need to memorize this. You look fucking glorious with my cum on you.”
I stretched my back and let him look at his leisure. I didn’t mind being marked by him and he knew it. Eventually he rolled off the bed. Then together we took a shower so he could clean me off.
After a ten-hour drive for him, an impossibly long week and recovery for me, we fell into bed wrapped in each other’s arms, and slept.
4
Amelia Island
The next day
Marc
“Okay,I just want to clear up a few things,” Ash said.
“Here we go,” I muttered.
We were walking along the beach barefoot. I was in jeans, as was Ash, along with a light sweater. The temperature was in the low seventies with a mild sun—the perfect day for a stroll.
I’d made love to her when we woke up, then she’d made us eggs and bacon. It had been easy and normal, and, for a time, we could put the specter of her father at bay.
