Finished with Me
There was such unbearable intimacy in him hovered over me. Watching my face as he entered me and pulled out before pounding back in again.
His skin nestled so close against mine.
Even with this being my first time, I was certain that somehow, he was trying to punish me for some unknown crime.
Something I did. Some affront I hadn’t known I committed. This was a man punishing a woman in the most primal of ways. Though my brain worked fervently, I couldn’t determine what I’d done and didn’t want to ask. Sensing it would only make him work harder into me.
His brown eyes stared down at me from behind his mask. Roving over my breasts and the plane of my belly. His other hand massaging my legs as though he couldn’t get enough of touching them. Greedily wanting to put his hands all over my skin.
And I want to take it all away from him. I thought resentfully. Glaring at him as I tried to conceive ways to make him pay.
Though my body was sore, and I knew if I wanted to save my reputation, I’d had no choice but to ruin it, to let him have me.
“You’re utterly despicable.” I spat up at him.
“You’ve no idea, Sweetheart.” He grinned. His browned skin shining in the dancing firelight. His hips working in long strokes. Trying to penetrate me more deeply than he had yet.
I felt my ass cheeks biting between his weight and the wooden seat. I’d have bruises tomorrow.
“Do you feel that?” He slowed down.
“Every inch of me, filling your hole.” He eased back in until he was pressed tight against my soft lower lips. “Stretching you. Heating you. Slicking you inside.”
As much as what he was doing disgusted me. I felt my stomach tightening. Felt the place he was poking so fiercely begin to tense and then whirl with pleasure. My body was awash with pleasure and then I felt a flood of heat pour over me. And my back arched, my neck stretched. My walls tightened around him. Sending pulsing surges of pleasure over us both.
And just like he’d told me I would, I screamed. A broken echoing sound that reverberated through the empty Guest House. Evidence of my wild pleasure.
Amidst my screaming he attained his pleasure simultaneously. Flexing hard into me. Bruising my buttocks with his punishing thighs. Clutching my legs to his chest so hard I’d have fingerprints embedded in my skin tomorrow.
He arched his back and his ass tightened as his pleasure began deep within his balls and seeped upward until he poured cum deep into the seat of my flesh. Filling my core with his pleasure at the same moment I soaked his cock with my fluids.
Evidence that he’d pleasured me despite my loathing and disgust.
And the fact that he’s blackmailing me to have me. I’d never have guessed that I’d let a man inside me based on the threat of mere words.
But threatening a woman’s reputation is far more dangerous than mere words.
It could put me in the workhouse or make me have to service on the streets. I couldn’t do it. Fear wound through me and my hands worked into white-knuckled fists. Wanting to hit him for what he’d just done to me.
Both forcing me and for shattering my pride by making me love what he did to me.
“My God.” I panted. Relieved it was over. Shocked by my response and confused by the newness of what I’d just experienced with him.
“I’ve been called worse.” He chuckled. Letting my legs go.
My hips ached so I immediately swung them aside and dropped them to surround each of his hips. Eying him nervously as I worried, he’d want back inside me again.
He rose and offered me his hand.
I slapped mine into it. Taking it hatefully as he tugged me onto my feet. My legs wobbled slightly and when I would’ve lost my balance, he caught me against his chest.
“Steady now. No acting as a foal on her first day.”
I glared at him. The irony in that statement was not lost in me.
He grinned mirthfully. Seeming quite proud of his joke.
It had been my first day.
I’d never been ridden before.