“How’s that feel, huh?” I say as I buck into her again. “You like getting fucked by my cock? Do ya?”
“Stop! Please stop!”
I almost pause. Her words are a bit much for me, but I remember all her talk of safewords. She hadn’t said “Smurf,” so she doesn’t really mean it. Inside, my instinct to listen to her fights with my desire to keep going—to keep fucking her any way I want to.
I could, too. Even if she did say Smurf, I could keep going. She really doesn’t have any way of stopping me. I’m bigger, more powerful, and I have her completely subdued.
She wouldn’t stand a chance if this were a real attack.
I rub away sweat from my forehead, trying to understand what I’m feeling. This is Melissa—the love of my life. Am I really doing this to her? Holding her down and fucking her as she begs me to stop?
But she doesn’t really want me to stop. I’m in tune enough to her responses to know that she wants this. She told me how much she wanted to try this, and I’m going along with it because she asked me to, but is that the only reason? Because I have to admit—I like doing this to her. I like the control I feel, the sense of ownership it gives me over her body.
You’re overthinking it.
It’s Melissa’s voice in my head, and she’s probably right. She usually is.
I focus again on what I’m doing and how it feels. With her ass up in the air, I have a perfect view of every penetration. Being able to watch my cock slide in and out of her from this angle is way too much for me. I don’t want to come just yet. I’m not ready for this to end. She never gets off in this position anyway, and this is supposed to be her fantasy.
I’m quickly realizing it might also have been mine all along.
I pull out and grab her waist to toss her over on her back. She begins to kick and scream at me, so I straddle her chest and hold her down. Grabbing the scarf off the dresser, I seize both her wrists with one hand and quickly loop the silk around them. I have no idea what I’m doing, and even as I tie the end to the rails on the headboard, I’m pretty sure she could just pull hard to get out of it.
“That’s better,” I say as I straddle her legs.
She’s trying to look as if she’s horrified, but I know the sparkle of excitement in her eyes. I run my hands down her sides and then back up to cup both her tits. I pinch the nipples a little before positioning myself and entering her again.
“Please,” she begs, “just leave me alone!”
“Not until I’m done with you,” I tell her.
Using a nice, even pace, I rock into her. With her hands out of my way, her only recourse is to squirm and try to kick at me. I take both her legs in my hands and hold them up over my shoulders, leaning into her as she closes her eyes and turns her face from me.
“You gonna play nice now,” I ask, “or do I have to hurt you?”
For a brief moment, she really looks like she’s afraid. I stare down at her, no longer holding up the menacing façade, and reach out to touch her cheek. I stroke the side of her face gently. I mouth the words “love you” at her, and the corners of her mouth twitch up.
“Keep going,” she says breathlessly. “I’ll play nice.”
I give her a half smile and raise an eyebrow.
Leaning forward a little more, I lay one hand across her wrists even though they’re bound to the headboard. With my free hand, I grasp her breast a little roughly, pinching the nipple as she gasps.
I need the moment of reprieve to collect myself again. Playing this role is exhausting, and I’m not really sure how much longer I can keep it up. I stroke her skin, lick her nipples, and kiss her throat. She’s warm and covered in sweat beneath me, and I blow across her chest to cool her a little. She shivers, and I raise myself up with a hand placed on either side of her.
This is honestly my favorite way—with me in kind of a pushup position and her below me. I start stroking in and out of her slowly, closing my eyes, dropping my forehead to her shoulder, and giving into the feeling of her pussy wrapped around my cock.
I know I’m getting close—I can feel it in the pit of my stomach. I take a long breath and huff it out my nose.
Time to make this count.
Raising my head to look up at her flushed face, I bring myself back into the role of her attacker and smile menacingly.
“I’m gonna come in you, you little bitch. I’ve been holding out, waiting for this all week.”
“No!” She twists and turns underneath me, trying to buck me off. “Please! I’m not on the pill!”
She is. She has been since before we met.