Once my body had begun to come back down, I blinked and Kevin pushed my hips back until I sat on his chest. I let go of the head board and my fingers ached from holding on so tight.
“Goddamn, woman. That was one of the hottest fucking things I’d ever seen.” Kevin smirked up at me, and then tossed me to my back, rolling on top of me. “Now, give me another one because I’m hard again after watching that fireworks show.”
He thrust into me hard, gliding his hands up my rib cage, past my breasts, and pinning my hands above my head. He fucked me hard, like a savage rutting in a mating ritual. He had no care for my pleasure, just used me, and all of it turned me on more. The fact that I lay beneath him and became a useless vessel only used for his desires sparked a heat inside me that I’d missed with anyone but him.
He didn’t look at me as he dragged his hands back down my arms and pressed his thumbs in the soft spots along my side and ribs, coaxing shouts and cries of pain from my lips, letting them join with the slapping of flesh that filled the room. Kevin growled as he bit the sides of my breasts, methodically moving along the outside before moving in and sucking my nipples into his mouth.
Tears streamed down my temples, a mixture of pleasure, pain, and relief at being set free. Flying on the high of a release I’d missed for so long. It was too much and not enough. He leaned back on his haunches and pressed my thighs to my chest, gripping too tightly and not stopping his assault.
“My cunt. All fucking mine,” Kevin growled, staring at his cock disappearing inside me. “I can do whatever I want to you, because you’re mine. Tell me your mine.”
“Please. Please,” I whimpered out, so close to breaking apart beneath him. Needing him to push me harder, crush me, just to put me back together. Anything for him.
“Say it, Anabelle. Tell me you’re mine. That I can do anything I want because you are mine.”
I forced my eyes open and stared up into his, feeling his will pressed onto me. “Yes, Kevin. I’m yours.”
He released a leg and pinched my nipple, holding tight as he rode me. I arched back, desperate for the storm brewing inside me. It felt bigger than me and I wanted to become lost in it. He twisted harder and then released the tip. The stinging pain shot to my core, and I gripped his cock tight as I shattered. My vision blurred, but through it, I saw his head fall back. The tendons in his neck strained. His cries held onto me as I became swallowed up whole.
After feeling like I’d been tossed in a chaotic sea, I came to, my breaths panting out of my chest, barely able to move with the weight of a mountain on top of me.
Kevin groaned and kissed my neck before lifting himself up, our bodies making a sucking sound from all the sweat. He paused and looked in my eyes, the soft gaze of my friend—my lover—staring down at me. He smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips.
“Let me get a washcloth to clean up,” he said, standing and striding, nude, to the bathroom.
I let my head fall back on the sheets and inhaled the smell of sex. The smell of submission and domination. The smell of Kevin. The smell of me. The smell of us.
God, I’d missed it.
The bed dipped and fingers pushed my knees out before a warm washcloth wiped between my legs. Soft lips pressed to the hollow of my hips. “You look beautiful with my marks on you.”
His words reached into my brain and pulled a string I’d buried when he’d cornered me in the bathroom. “What?” I asked dazed, afraid what I’d see when my eyes opened. Afraid it would yank on the string and pull the rug out from under us.
“Evidence of my ownership.”
I opened my eyes and looked down my body. Kevin held the washcloth to my core and gazed adoringly down on my body. Angry red bite marks covered my breasts. Bruises, covered with more red marks that would soon become more bruises, covered me from my hips, all around my thighs. I shifted and felt the scrapes down my back from where he’d marked me when I’d sucked him off.
My heart kicked at my ribs, faster and faster as I took it all in, remembering all the reasons it was a bad idea to be with him. Why I’d denied myself for years, why I’d walked away from him.
“Fuck. Fuck.” My eyes stung and I clenched them shut, trying to hold back the panic pulling me down. “Fuck.” What would I tell people if they saw me? What would they assume?