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“I do, don’t I?” he purrs. The anger is vacant from his voice. As if whatever overtook him has been wrestled under control. He slides between my butt cheeks again and emits a groan. “I’m going to turn the cameras back on. It would be such a shame to miss capturing your next orgasm on film.”
He rises, taking the cold metal and hot body with him.
Tension seizes me again when the hum returns. I’m still dealing with it when he flicks me onto my back again. His attention returns to my tits. Licking, biting, tweaking. I’m ready to fall into the vortex of sexual need, when he pulls away. He delivers attention to the rest of my body. When he reaches my thighs, he unclips the garters and slowly rolls the hose down one leg, then the other. The garter follows and I’m well and truly naked.
His thumbs trail up my inner thigh to rest on either side of my pulsating lips. “My body. My sweet fucking pussy.”
A moan slips past my lips.
He laughs. “That turns you on, doesn’t it?” The pad of one thumb brushes lightly over my clit, earning him a shudder. His laughter deepens. He bends close until his mouth hovers over my ear. “Did you think you wouldn’t be?” he whispers. “That this would be a clinical fucking, a rutting exercise that you’d talk yourself through and then walk away from when done?”
Oh fuck. What did I do wrong now?
He’s angry again. My head is spinning from the mercurial mood swings he’s bombarding me with.
I lick my lips and whisper back. “Q, please tell me what you want.”
“I want to fuck the shit out of you. And I want you to love it.”
“I…do.”
“You don’t sound sure.” The edge is sharper, the electricity from the voice distorter sizzling the last of my nerves. “If I remember correctly, you questioned our compatibility.”
“I don’t. Not anymore.”
“Hmm. But I like to be thorough. So shall we be absolutely sure?” he rasps into my ear.
I don’t get a chance to respond. His rigid cock slams into me, taking me from empty to full in a nanosecond.
I scream.
He grunts, sinister satisfaction lacing the sound. He slams through my slickness a second time. The intensity of pleasure smashing through me makes my heart race in wild alarm.
Q lifts away from me. “You like that.” He’s no longer whispering. Whether he’s asking me for the cameras’ sake or because he needs vocal confirmation of what must be comically obvious to him, I don’t know.
But as I’ve been painfully reminded, he’s in control. “Yes,” I whimper.
“Louder, baby, I can’t hear you.”
“Yes!”
His strokes are sublime. I don’t know whether to breathe or hold my breath and surrender to the impending explosion.
“I thought so. Your cream is threatening to drown me. Shall I make it so you can’t walk tomorrow, Lucky?” he growls.
How the fuck do I answer that? I want to be able to walk. But how do I say no without flipping his switch back to anger. I settle for a neutral zone I fear may not exist. “Whatever you want, Q.”
“What I want is for you to take more of my cock. I want all of me inside you.”
Panic trickles down my spine, eroding a little bit of pleasure. How much more of him is there? The question barely flares to life before he flips me onto my side and throws one leg over his shoulder. Guess I’m about to find out.
He impales me, and my breath strangles. He lifts my lower half off the bed, and with almost effortless strength, begins to slide me up and down on his length. Unbelievably, each thrust seats him deeper inside me. The position must please him because he fucks me faster, his breath growing rattled and uneven. I wrap my hand around the rope fastening me to the bed and hold on tight for the insane ride.
Before long, the pressure builds to the breaking point. “Please…come…I want…can I please…”
I’m a puppet on his string. The words tumble uselessly from my lips as he bounces me into ecstasy.
“Q…”