Page 48 of Watching You
“Are you ready for the rest of it?” I ask, my voice a low, seductive rumble.
She nods slowly, a silent acceptance. “Y-Yes,” she whispers. “I’m ready.”
I position myself between her legs, my body a heavy, comforting weight that anchors her to the bed. I can feel her trembling, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, a final, fragile defense mechanism that’s about to be shattered.
“This is going to hurt,” I warn, my voice gentle but firm. “Just for a moment. But I promise you, Blair, I’ll make it feel so good. I’ll make you forget the pain. I’ll make you forget everything but me.”
She doesn’t speak. Just reaches up and cups my face in her hands, her thumbs stroking my cheekbones like she’s trying to memorize the shape of me. “I trust you,” she says, her voice a hoarse, breathy whisper that’s barely audible.
And in that moment, I know. This is it. This is the moment when I claim her completely, when I erase every trace of the past and write our future in blood.
The heat of her body is a siren’s call that I can’t resist. I look down at her, her face a mask of vulnerability and desire, her body a canvas that’s waiting for my masterpiece.
“Look at me,” I command, my voice a low, authoritative growl.
Her eyes fly open, locking onto mine, and in their depths, I see everything. The fear, the longing, the hope, the surrender. It’s all there, a chaotic symphony of emotions. And then I push inside her.
Her cry is sharp, a ragged gasp of pain that’s quickly swallowed by the sound of the rain still lashing against the windows. I feel her resistance, her body instinctivelyclenching against the intrusion, but I don’t stop. I can’t. I’m a man possessed, driven by a primal need to claim, to possess, to own.
I sink deeper, inch by agonizing inch, feeling her stretch to accommodate me, feeling her body adjust to the reality of my possession. Her fingernails dig into my shoulders, her body arching off the bed. There’s a part that wants to push me away, to retreat into the safety of her rules and routines. And there’s a part that’s tired of hiding. Tired of waiting. Tired of being invisible.
And then I’m fully inside her, buried to the hilt, our bodies joined in the most intimate way possible. I can feel her heart hammering against my chest, a frantic, terrified rhythm that matches my own. I stay still, letting her adjust, letting her body accept this new reality, this new truth.
“Breathe, sunflower,” I whisper, my voice a low, soothing rumble. “Just breathe.”
She takes a ragged breath, then another, her body slowly starting to relax, her muscles unclenching around me. I can feel the shift, the subtle change in her body’s language, from resistance to acceptance, from fear to a tentative curiosity.
“You’re so big…” she whimpers.
“You’ll get used to it, baby.” I lean down and capture her lips in mine.
I begin to move, slowly at first, then with a growing confidence that’s exhilarating. I’m not just taking her virginity; I’m rewriting her history. I’m carving my nameinto her very soul, branding her with my touch, my scent, my essence.
Her body responds, a slow, undulating rhythm that’s both a dance and a battle. She’s no longer passive, no longer just a vessel for my pleasure. She’s an active participant, her hips meeting mine, her hands exploring my body, her mouth seeking mine in a desperate, hungry kiss.
I reach down and circle her clit with my thumb. I want to get her there. I want to feel her shatter around me.
I can feel the tension building again, a coiling spring of sensation that’s wound tighter and tighter, a pressure that’s both exquisite and unbearable. She’s close, I can feel it, her body quivering on the brink of another orgasm.
“Come for me, sunflower,” I whisper, my voice a low, commanding growl. “Let me feel you come on my cock.”
And she does.
Her body arches off the bed, her cry a raw, primal sound of release that’s fucking perfect. She convulses around me, her muscles clenching and unclenching in a rhythm that pulls me under, drags me down into a vortex of bliss.
I follow her over the edge, my own release a violent, explosive force that leaves me trembling and spent. I collapse on top of her, my body a heavy, comforting weight that anchors her to the bed, my face buried in the crook of her neck, my breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps.
“You were such a good girl for me. Letting me fuck your pussy like my perfect little obsession.” My confession makes her whimper, the sound going straight to my cock. I could take her all over again, but I don’t want her to be in too much pain. Or maybe I do, so she won’t forget this night.
We lie there for a long time, our bodies tangled, our hearts beating a frantic, syncopated rhythm that’s both chaotic and perfect. The rain has slowed to a soft, steady patter, the only sound in the room besides the thunder of our own blood.
Eventually, I push myself up, my arms trembling with the effort, and look down at her. Her face is flushed, her eyes closed, her lips parted in a silent sigh of contentment. She looks utterly, completely wrecked. And she’s never looked more beautiful.
I gently brush a stray wisp of hair from her forehead, my fingers lingering on her skin like I’m trying to memorize the shape of her. She flinches, just barely, her eyes fluttering open, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths.
“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice a low, rough whisper.
She nods slowly, her gaze still locked on mine. “I think so,” she whispers, her voice a hoarse, breathy sound that’s barely audible. “I just… I never knew it could be like that.”
