Page 66 of The Fate Philosophy

He slid out and back in. His thrusts hard, rough, and punishing. His fingers gripped my hips so hard I thought they may bruise. I wanted them to bruise. I wanted his marks all over me. With that, I tipped my head back, baring my throat to him in a silent request. He moaned as he simultaneously buried himself inside of me, and his face in the crease between my shoulder and my neck. He bit down on my collar bone, and then ran his tongue across it, pulling the skin into his mouth and sucking hard.

His thrusts moved in sync with his mouth, and I felt every part of him over every part of me. I felt him reaching deep, I felt my body tightening around him. I felt him in my toes, in my spine. I felt the weight of his body pressing against my chest and the tips of his fingers digging into my skin. I felt his tongue and his cock. I could hear myself moaning his name, my sounds growing louder the deeper he went.

He leaned away from my throat and looked down at me with those wild eyes. He reared back, pulling out of me, but keeping his hands on my hips. Lifting me off the sink so that I was on my feet, he spun me around so my back was to him.

Both of us were facing the mirror now. I took in my flushed cheeks, the glistening of the sweat on my skin. Both of us were panting– pausing to look at our reflections. Through the mirror, his eyes were on mine as he brought one arm up the length of my body, over my collar bone and around my neck, grasping my throat. His lips met my jaw, and I saw myself tremble beneath his breath– his stare.

His other hand pressed against my lower back, pushing me forward. “I need you to be a good girl and stay quiet for me, okay?”

He squeezed my throat gently, enough to make me gasp but not enough to make me choke. That free hand on the small of my back twisted itself in the fabric of my short dress, lifting it above my hips and baring my backside to him entirely. His hand around my neck moved upward, cupping itself over my mouth at the same moment his cock slammed into me with a powerful thrust, muffling my scream.

He pounded into me relentlessly, his rhythm becoming chaotic and unchecked. So hard and swift that my feet nearly lifted off the ground at the force of it. I gripped the edge of the sink so tight my knuckles turned white. I cried into his hand, unable to keep the sounds at bay. My entire body trembled at his punishing pace, at the slick slide of him moving in and out of me, at my own wetness coating the inside of my thighs.

All of my atoms were buzzing. Buzzing and screaming and begging for release. As that oblivion inched closer to me, the tension between my legs climbing towards its peak– my eyes rolled back, fluttering closed. I let my head dip into his chest, but a hand wrapped itself in my hair and pulled, my eyes popping open.

“No,” he growled. “Watch yourself.” My eyes found his through the mirror, they were looking at my face. Briefly, they dropped down and I knew he was watching himself move in and out of me, but they quickly met mine again. “Look at how I fuck you, Macie. Look at how I make you feel.”

His breath against my neck, mixed with the pace in which he fucked me had me shaking, vibrating, ready to explode. My cries increased at the sound of his words. He laughed, that deep and rich and teasing laugh that raked down my spine.

Warmth bloomed in my stomach, spreading throughout my core as my orgasm tore through me. I tensed, clenching my legs around him, my body pressing back against his. His punishing thrusts didn’t stop, he didn’t relent as I unraveled around him. My eyes fought to close, but the grip he had on the back of my head tightened each time they did, forcing me to keep my eyes on our reflection in the mirror. He continued to watch me, my expressions absolutely wanton. My face reddened, my hair disheveled and coming undone, just as I was.

“That’s right, baby girl. Look at yourself as you come on my cock.” I screamed his name into his hand, one of my hands still gripping the sink, but the other finding itself grasping at his shirt, pulling him in closer to me, while also pushing him away. The sensation was too much. Too hard. Too good. I couldn’t take it, and yet I needed more.

My core pulsated around him, as if my body needed his release too. Needed to feel him spill inside me. Needed to feel him dripping out of me. I moved my hips backward, meeting each of his thrusts, working to coax that release from him. His eyes narrowed through the mirror, as if he saw what I was doing.

He released his hold on my hair, and my head fell forward over the sink as he pounded into me even more rapidly than before. That buzzing between my legs never ceased, my core throbbing, and I knew I was about to come again. That free hand of his found itself between my legs, his fingers flicking across my swollen clit. I continued grinding my hips against him, the obscene sound of our fleshing meeting echoed throughout the bathroom, drowning out the sounds of our breathing.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned.

My body trembled and tightened as I reached the brink of another climax. His stroking of my clit was unwavering as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. I wasn’t sure where one orgasm ended and the other began as they hit me. I felt his body tighten then too, I heard his own moans grow louder, more hurried.

Suddenly, he pinched my clit and I erupted. His hand tightened around my mouth as his name escaped me in muffled cries. I felt his body tense, then his cock pulsing inside me as he came. He leaned forward, his lips finding my shoulder blades as he murmured my name against my skin.

“Fuck, Macie. Fuck yes.”

His hand finally sled off my mouth, our heavy breaths the only noise. He continued spilling into me, and when he was finally spent, I felt his body slack, falling onto mine for support as I leaned against the sink.

I didn’t know how long we stayed in that position before he pulled out of me, but once he did, the weight of our actions hit me like a truck. My heart laid in broken pieces all around us. My body normally felt like that after sex with him, but this time I feared I may not leave with any part of it still intact. I was completely lost to him. I knew, in that moment, I’d never find someone who could make me feel the way he did. My release had been more intense than I’d felt before with anyone. Intense and painful, because I knew it was the last time.

He slid out of me and stepped back, but I found myself unable to move. Uncaring that I was bent over, on display for him. I heard him shuffle, pulling up his pants. I heard him buckle his belt. Finally, I straightened, avoiding looking at either of us in the reflection of the mirror.

I stepped back from the sink as I felt a touch on my calf and looked down. Dom was behind me, squatting with a wad of toilet paper in hand. I let him wipe up the mess he’d made between my thighs.

He ran a finger up my center, a small whimper escaped as I shuddered. “So beautiful,” he murmured as he gathered the release that still pooled inside me. “I love watching it drip out of you.” He looked up at me with his brown eyes shimmering with so much emotion that I thought I may dissolve right there.

I noticed my underwear was still wrapped around one foot when he lightly took it between his fingers and tapped my ankle, motioning for me to lift my leg. I assumed he was going to pull them up for me, so I obeyed. Instead, he slipped them off my foot, and I turned around as he stood, stuffing my panties into his pocket.

“Dom,” I protested breathlessly. “What are you–”

He walked into me. “I read you like a book, Mace.” He brought his hand to my face. “This isn’t over.” Gripping my chin, he added, “Open your mouth, baby.” My jaw dropped, both in shock, and because I couldn’t seem to refuse his commands. He stuck two fingers inside, hooking behind my bottom teeth and tugging me an inch closer to him. “Taste us. Taste how fucking good we are together.”

I couldn’t stop myself from sucking on his fingers, lapping up the heady taste of our mixed releases. He pulled his fingers from my mouth, and replaced them with his lips. Letting his lips feather against mine, he said, “It seems you’ve forgotten who you belong to.”

All I could do was blink at his beautiful face. “So, when we walk back into that party, and you feel me dripping between your legs, I want you to remember…your mouth, your body, that sweet little pussy—every single piece of you belongs to me.” With his lips still on mine, I felt him reach between us and grab my hand, placing it on his chest and covering it with his own. “Just like every piece of me belongs to you.” His heart thundered against my palm. “Has for some time now.”

He pulled my dress down, straightened it, and brushed a finger through the curls hanging in my face as if attempting to make me presentable again. Without another word, he unlocked the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway.

I followed.

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