Page 35 of Wilt

“Just so you know, Rose,” I say, delivering another blow. “My patience isn’t infinite. That line might be closer than you think.”

I hit her again. Each spank I hand out is accompanied by a small, muffled sound, but I don’t care if she’s crying. I do it again. This time, the sound is a little louder, longer. She can cry all she wants. I spank her again, admiring the red hand prints I leave behind. She can—

Wait. I smack her again, and she makes the sound, long, the cadence low, keening like she’s…

Oh, holy fuck. She’s moaning. The backs of her thighs glisten a little. I spank her again. Another moan and I’m so fucking hard, I’m going to lose my mind.

Without a thought, I grab her, flip her so she’s straddling me.

Oh, her face… It’s full of shock, arousal. Her eyes are heavy with it. I coil one hand into her hair to drag her mouth to mine, kissing her deep. She moans into my mouth as I shove two fingers into her. Her tongue meets mine as she kisses me back with a savage hunger, her tight, wet cunt convulsing around my fingers as I fuck her hard.

How the fuck can I resist this? She’s drunk on passion, molding into me like I can give her everything, like she needs what I have to give her more than she needs air.

I flip us on to the bed, pressing her down, grinding against her as I continue to fuck her with my fingers. Our mouths find each other again, and the kisses are like sex itself. She’s all instinct, seeking me, pushing, retreating then coming back for more. That passion is in my blood, my bones. I’m so fucking hard, I can barely think. I wanteverything.

I break the kiss, and she makes a small sound of protest that seriously almost has me busting a nut in my fucking jeans.

Moving down her body, I kiss a path, suckling her breasts, biting down and making her clutch at me as she pushes those glorious tits into my face. My Rose loves this, and the need to fill my mouth with her, to have my tongue in her pussy, is more than I can bear.

I slide down and those lips are swollen, red, and I move my fingers, parting her, my thumb working the distended nub of her clit. She’s the hottest, most erotic thing I’ve ever seen, and I dive in, licking a path, moving my fingers to shove my tongue in instead, sipping from the source itself.

Rose moans, writhing against me, pushing herself at my mouth as I slide two fingers back inside her, moving up to work her clit, lavishing it with my tongue, suckling the nub as she whimpers. She’s pure fire and she’s starting to shake, making little panting noises as her hips move, pushing her pussy against me.

Her tight wetness is a call to the darkest corners of my soul. Her taste is finer than whiskey. I can’t get enough. She spasms, her moan turning into a little scream she tries to muffle but fails, and it fucking turns me on even more.

She comes hard on my face, and I lick her juices, her fingers in my hair. I want her. I need her. It claws at me, pulls me to an edge I’ve never been to, one I want to dive over to discover the twisted, dark, carnal delights below.

Rose is whimpering, soft little sounds sweeter than music, and I rise up, going for my belt. She looks at me, and an electrifying bolt races through my center to my cock. My hands slip, fumble. I’m desperate to get this damn belt off and these jeans down so I can sink my aching erection into that sweet, delicious, soft cunt of hers. That tight cunt probably pulsating with the little aftermath waves of her orgasm.

She’s so fucking responsive and the look in her eyes tells me she wants more. She’s gone, lost in a sexual, sensual frenzy, and though I’ve just given her an orgasm, she definitely wants more. My Rose is voracious and I’m going to fucking enjoy wearing her out.

She sits up, her fingers going for my belt, helping me to undo it, and then she’s at the buttons of my fly, trying to get at my hard cock within. Oh, fuck do I want those fingers around it. I want to slam into her, ride her, stake her, claim her, mark her inside and out as mine.

I freeze and grab her hands, pushing them against me, holding them still.

Shit.

I can’t be in her yet. I can’t make that claim. I haven’t pushed her far enough. I haven’t broken her down to where I need her. I haven’t set things up for it all yet. Letting her go, I shove her away, withdrawing from her, standing to do up my belt.

From somewhere within, I catch hold of the ice and steel at my core. I snatch the thing people fear. I unleash the monster, just a little. I turn my cold eyes on her, and Rose flinches back.

“What—? Did I do something wr—”

“Go clean yourself up.” I sweep my gaze over her, cutting her off, keeping my voice clipped. “You’re a fucking mess.”

“I’m not a whore,” she sniffles. There’s hurt there, front and center. Bewilderment. She hasn’t found her hate for me yet. She’s still too caught up in what happened. In her response. My rejection.

Good. She needs to be confused, on unstable ground. She needs to know she can’t pin me the fuck down and put me in any box. I’m not about to be wound about her pretty finger. I’ll take my fill when it’s time, and not before. If I choose to sample her here and there? My choice. Not hers.

“Clean up, Rosalind. Don’t touch yourself again without my permission.”

She starts to come back to herself as her eyes narrow, and she half goes to cover herself with her hands but stops. It’s impressive, I’ll give her that. It takes fucking balls to be so exposed and vulnerable, having just been laid out, eaten out, made to come, basically begged to be fucked by a man you don’t like. Real balls.

Oh, does she have them. Solid titanium cojones.

“If I do it in the shower?” Rosalind considers me. “Get myself off in all that nice, warm water?”

I don’t smile, no matter how much I want to. “And if I have a camera?”

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