Page 101 of Dark Knight

Romero takes my wrists in one hand and traces a slow line down my body with the other. Once he reaches my pussy, he chuckles against my ear but says nothing. Cupping my mound instead and pressing his fingers against my slit.

I arch, gasping, as every thought is wiped away and replaced by sensation. Deep, all-consuming pleasure makes me rock my hips and bear down on his hand. He teases my mouth with his tongue, thrusting it inside before pulling back until I try to reach forward, moaning when he won’t give me what I want.

But his hand still moves, fingers running in tight circles over my clit. “Yes… More, God, more…”

“Give it to me.” His low, throaty voice works its way into my brain and adds to the tension building in my core. “Give it to me. Come for me.”

He presses harder, and fireworks explode behind my closed eyelids. It goes on and on, the bliss radiating from my core and running through my limbs, leaving me shaking and panting. But that’s not enough. I want more of him. I want all of him.

As soon as he lets go of my wrists, I reach between us and touch him where he’s hard and dripping through his shorts. “Fuck…” He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back while I stroke him slowly, torturing him a little the way he tortures me. Finally, he grunts and pulls his shorts off, kicking them to the side so I can use the precum leaking from his tip to lube his shaft.

The power shifts between us, and it makes my heart soar. This is the only way I can control him, and I want to savor every second. I run my thumb over the piercing, and he groans again. There’s a helpless sound to it that sends a thrill through me. Now, he’s at my mercy.

Without saying a word, I drop to my knees and do the same thing with my tongue, flicking the metal, and every helpless sound I tease from him sends fresh heat dripping from my core. I gaze up and find him entirely gripped by desire — his mouth hanging open, a look of agonized pleasure hardening his features. He sinks his hand into my hair and my scalp tingles. “Fuck, Tatum,” he sighs, and it only makes me want to please him more.

“Oh, yes…” he breathes when I take him in my mouth, lowering my head until he hits the back of my throat and my nose is smashed against his base.

“Harder,” he demands, then moans when I suck until my cheeks go hollow. He’s not so cold and in control now, is he? Not when the taste of his pre-cum moves over my tongue or when he jerks his hips, faster, faster, chasing his high the way I chased mine.

“That’s it,” he grunts. “Suck it. You’re so good to my cock.” My body preens at the praise.

He pulls back before it’s too late and hauls me to my feet. He’s rough and demanding again, stripping me from the waist down in one quick, brutal movement. I barely have time to gasp before I’m against the door and he has my leg lifted, spreading me open before spearing me.

And all at once, the tension that built when I was sucking him breaks. I cry out in surprise, but his only reaction is to take me hard, fast, until the door rattles in time with his sharp thrusts. The only thing in the world is that rhythmic, thumping sound, my strangled cries, and his heavy breathing.

There’s no sweetness to this. No tenderness. This is two people wholly using each other.

And I like it. No, I love it. I can let go of everything, not giving a shit how I sound or what it means or whether this is a mistake. All my sadness and loneliness and frustration – I give it to him. I take it out on him with my nails and my teeth. With my legs when he lifts me, and I wrap them around him, using them to pull him in, silently demanding he fuck me harder. I want him to hurt me. I want to wake up in the morning with his bruises on my skin so I know this was real. That it wasn’t a dream.

We’re still locked together when he cups my ass with both hands and carries me to his bedroom. The bed bounces when we land on it together, and I moan into his ear when he starts moving again. Slower this time, deeper, rolling his hips and grinding against my clit with every stroke. He gets up on his knees to peel my night shirt away before descending on my boobs like a man starved. His low animal grunts only add to the frenzy.

My nails scrape his scalp and his neck, his shoulders, and his back before digging into his ass. “More!” I shout into the darkness. I don’t care how it sounds. I’m taking what I need.

“You want more of my cock?”

“Yes!” When he pushes up onto his palms, I arch my back, feeding him my pussy. He slams against me hard enough that my boobs bounce in a rhythm that gets faster. His sharp breaths and my high-pitched squeals blend together in a chaotic song that breaks all at once.

I’m sobbing with joy and relief when he pulls out and sprays his cum across my chest. “Fuck… Tatum…” The sound of my name falling from his lips is even more satisfying than the ripples of pleasure that leave my body limp. A sense of peace settles over my soul and leaves me shuddering in liberation.

I’m where I belong. I’m his. I’ve always been his.

“Stay put.” He’s a little unsteady when he gets to his feet and disappears into the bathroom. I’m still catching my breath when he comes back to wash me clean.

“You know you could do that inside me,” I whisper, watching as he works carefully. “I’m still on the pill.”

“I don’t like taking chances.” He gets up to toss the cloth into the sink and then comes back, scrubbing his hands over his face before letting out a sigh. The bathroom light behind him casts his face in shadow, but I don’t need to see it when he lowers his hands. I know how he must look. “You know what I’m going to say.”

I do, and I hate how beaten he sounds now. It's like he emptied more than his balls just now. He emptied his courage, too.

I’m not going to argue with him. Not when I know he’s right. That shouldn’t have happened. It will only make what happens next harder to deal with.

“Can we just lie here together for a little while?” I scoot further back until my head touches the pillows. It’s a nice bed — soft yet firm. Honestly, it’s more comfortable than I would’ve guessed. I figured he would sleep on a wooden board or something. He’s always got to prove how strong he is, right?

“So you’re going to ignore what we both know is true?”

“Do you know what I know is true? I know there are still aftershocks going off inside me. I know I want you to hold me. I know I’m tired of talking about all the things we shouldn’t do. We already did it. Can we just… be, for a little while?”

It looks like he’s fighting with himself, only the fight doesn’t last long. With a resigned sigh, he pulls back the blankets, and I wiggle my way under them while he settles in next to me. There’s a fresh scratch on his shoulder, and I press my lips to it before resting my head on his chest.

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