Page 122 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
It doesn’t. It feels terrifyingly, deliciously real. I slide my hands lower, under the waistband of his sweats, finding skin, muscle, the ridge of his cock straining under thin cotton.
“You’re perfect,” he growls, staring at my tits like he’s seeing something rare and precious. “I want you. Right now.”
I want him too. But I’m terrified of how much it means. I think about what Patrick said about how I’m exhausting to love.
Distracted by Hunter nibbling at my neck, I wonder if this is all just a fever dream that will end poorly.
He senses the hesitation. His hands soften, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Tell me to stop,” he whispers. “Use your safe word, Monroe.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want you to stop.”
I grind against him, rubbing myself on his cock, desperate for friction. He moans, hands everywhere. Tugging my hair, gripping my hips, squeezing my tits like he can’t get enough.
He never asks for permission. He just takes it. Every time he takes, he gives back double. He kisses me until my lips are swollen, then drags his mouth down my neck, biting and sucking, leaving a trail of heat behind.
“In the bedroom,” he commands, picking me up as he carries me through the apartment. He grunts as he sets me down on the mattress.
I claw at his sweatpants, yanking them down just enough to free his cock. His cock is massive, bigger than any I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure whether to be impressed or afraid. And his piercing… I can’t wait to find out exactly how that feels inside me.
Orgasmic, I’m willing to bet. My pussy gets wetter every fucking time I think about him filling me and stretching me out.
Hunter slides my panties off, the movement slow and deliberate. He takes a second to look at me, splayed out on his bed, hair a mess, cheeks flushed, breasts high and proud. The admiration in his eyes makes me feel like art.
His mouth is hot and hungry. He licks up the inside of my leg, then bites down hard enough to leave a mark. I yelp, the sound ricocheting off the bedroom walls, but he doesn’t stop. He spreads my legs with both hands, rough and urgent. His tongue finds my clit, circling, flicking, then sucking it into his mouth with the precision of a man who has spent years perfecting this exact skill.
I don’t want to think about how fucking good he is at this.
Grabbing the back of his head, I anchor myself so I don’t float out of my body. I can feel him smirking against my skin when I try to squirm away. He just pins my hips down and goes harder.
“Oh my god,” I gasp. I make an inarticulate noise of pleasure.
He looks up at me, eyes full of pride and predatory intent, and then grips my thighs hand enough to leave a mark. “Say my name.”
“Hunter,” I pant. I say it again when he plunges his tongue inside me. “Hunter, oh god, don’t stop.”
He grins, stubble scratching my thighs. He drives me over the edge with a final, devastating flick. I come so hard I nearly black out, the world narrowing to nothing but the vibration of his tongue, the press of his hands, and endless, throbbing, mindless pleasure.
He chuckles as I descend back to earth from whatever plane he sent me to. “Ready to use your safe word, Monroe?”
“Not a fucking chance,” I rasp. “Not even close.”
“Good, because I want to thrust my cock so deep into your pussy that it kills us both.”
Before I can come up with a suitable answer to his ridiculous words, he flips me onto my stomach, yanks my hips up, and bumps his cock up against my pussy lips. My lower muscles clench in anticipation.
“God damn,” he mutters. “You’re so pretty here.”
I breathe out a shaky breath. I feel his fingers spreading my pussy, exploring my wetness. “You’re so wet for me, Monroe. Your body knows that I’m going to need extra lubrication, huh?”
“Just shut up and fuck me, Huxley,” I order. I’m glad I’m facing the mattress because my cheeks are scarlet.
“Yes, ma’am.” There’s a moment of hesitation where I feel him slip from the bed and grab something from his bedside drawer. A condom, I realize, when I hear the scratching crinkle of Hunter ripping open the wrapper.
I should’ve thought of that. Hunter’s got me so fucking worked up that I can’t think straight. He rolls it on, spits on his cock, lines it up with my aching pussy, and buries himself inside me in one savage thrust.
My mouth opens in a silent scream. His cock is so big that ithurts.
It’s too much. It’s not enough. I want to cry from how good he feels, from how unprepared I am to be taken this way. I’m stretched from the inside out by his enormous cock, my walls trembling, my pussy twitching.
