Page 21 of Stranger Session

“No more, please,” she begs.

“You will give me however many orgasms I want to take from you,” I growl, assaulting her pussy again.

She screams out, leaning forward to escape my touch as she puts weight into the knife at her throat. I pull out and let her spray the floor again, knowing the remnants of this evening will be there for her boss to find tomorrow. I won’t allow her to clean it up.

“Stop!” she screams.

I pull out of her wet, red, swollen pussy for the last time and give her body a reprieve.

“You want your nightmare to fuck you, don’t you?” I whisper in her ear.

She shakes her head.

“Too fucking bad. You’re mine to do with as I please. Mine to use. Mine to fill.”

I throw the knife aside and go for my belt. I snatch it through the loops, eager to free myself, then I put it around her neck, put it through the buckle, and let it tighten. Her hands instinctively go for her throat to grip the leather between panicked fingers. I hold it like a leashas I crane her neck and push her further into the metal rack with the weight of my body.

My cock rests against her slit. I draw my hips back and push inside her. My piercing snags on her opening, and a different sound rushes from her lips. My aim isn’t to hurt her, but I keep pushing. It’ll feel good once it’s inside her.

She moans, unable to stay in character as I thrust. Temperature play at its natural finest. The warm heat of skin when everything around you is an icy wonderland. Friction warms us further as I fuck her. I squeeze the belt, and her moans take on a dizzying undertone. I’m sure that blood choke is making her warm and fuzzy too. Just one more play on the temperature.

I fuck her, thrusting deep and then shallow so I can feel the cold along my length before I sink into her again. My hand rises to her chest, and I take her full breast into my palm and squeeze. She groans and pushes her ass against me. Her hands grip the rack as I fuck her harder, faster, until she can’t control the glorious sounds erupting from her mouth. The rack rattles from the force of each thrust, and I worry everything on top of it will come crashing down.

But I don’t stop. I just keep pounding into her.

“Beg your nightmare for his come,” I growl.

“I want it,” she pants.

“Beg me, slut.”

“Give me your come,” she pleads, her voice rising.

“Good little whore. You’re such a greedy girl.”

And I give it to her. Every drop. I hope she can feel the burn of it inside her.

I pull out of her and paint her ass with the rest of it. It’ll cool so quickly against her skin. My hand goes to her ear, and I rub the sensitive lobe before releasing the belt around her throat.

Her body tenses. She straightens her back, turns, and stares at me. Her mouth gapes open. “Del?”

My heart literally fucking stops, then crashes against the wall of my chest and dies again.

“No...” I say, but her hands go for my mask before I can say anything else. I try to stop her, but she pulls it off before I can move. “Let me explain!”

“Pumpkin!” she screams before sending a knee into my nuts.

I fall to my knees and land in the chilly slick of her come. I grip the metal rack in front of me and inhale sharp breaths as the pain radiates from my groin to my stomach. She races from the cooler, and I worry she’ll lock me inside on her way out, but she’s too panicked and frazzled to think of that.

Thank god.

“Mariah!” I scream.

I want her to stop and hear me out. I didn’t mean to touch her like that. I was lost in the memory of how it made her feel at the photo shoot. A slave to the moment, I only wanted to bring her a little more pleasure. Now my weakness has ripped the veil away and ruined our arrangement.

I drag myself to my feet and limp out of the back room. Her apron no longer lies on the floor. She’s gone.

Well, fuck. It’s over, and I’ll never see her again. And I can’t handle that thought. I need her more than I need the air in my lungs or the blood pumping through my fucking veins. If I don’t have her, I have nothing.

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