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The answer seems to please him. His cock jerks against the small of my back. “Would you like me to be gentle with you, Lucky?”
Another shiver racks me as my mind tears in different directions. I should say yes, ask him to go easy on me. But I sense that wouldn’t please him.
The fact that I want to please him rips my mind into further pieces. The pressure between my legs intensifies. I gasp. My fingers curl into the silk sheets. “Answer me, firecracker.” The thick finger that plunges into me sends me to my tiptoes.
“Your body. Your pussy.”
A loud breath explodes from him. I sense his approval in the caress of my breast and the fingers that massage my pussy. “Yes,” he purrs. “So fucking right.”
He releases me abruptly, and I nearly groan at the absence of his finger inside me. The slip is tugged up and off my body. The thong goes the opposite route, and I’m left naked but for my heels and blindfold.
His tip finds my entrance and my breath strangles to nothing.
“My body.”
He penetrates me with a thrust so raw and rough, my feet leave the ground. I scream and my fists claw at the sheets.
“My pussy.”
I get a repeat of the same. I scream harder. By the third thrust, he’s crammed me full. Fuller than he managed yesterday if his groan of triumph is any indication. “Love that you’re taking more of me, baby.” He fucks me in sure, long strokes for a full minute, before he bends over my shaking body. “By the time the weekend’s over you’ll take all of me, won’t you, my little firecracker?” He punctuates the last three words with harsh animal thrusts.
“Oh!” I struggle to find my stolen breath. “Yes.”
“And why would you do that, Lucky?”
“Your body…your pussy.”
Those four words send him crazy. My feet don’t touch the ground again. One thick arm circles my waist and I’m lifted off the floor. His rough instruction to wrap my legs around his muscular thighs secures my position before he proceeds to rip me apart from the inside. Every thrust hits my end with a sharp intensity that drives the little breath I manage to catch straight back out of my lungs. He works me like an expert conductor, delivering pure, unadulterated ecstasy straight into my blood stream.
I almost forget to ask him for permission. My internal muscles tense and quiver, the anticipation of pleasure almost unbearable.
It’s his shout, followed by the thick, “Fuck!” that warns me that I can’t come without his say so.
“M—may…I?” My brain and my tongue can barely form the words.
“What was that, beautiful?” he growls above me.
“Come…please, may I…Q?” Every atom of my being is poised and ready. My channel is tightening harder, the need the come almost preventing his thrusts.
“My God, you feel incredible!”
“Pleeeeeeaaaase!”
I won’t last one more second. I know it. I don’t know what my punishment will be if I go against his wishes. I suck in a desperate breath and hold it, knowing I’m about to damn myself. My mouth goes slack and I prepare to let go.
“Yes,”he grates out, his voice a primitive roar that bursts me wide open.
I come so hard I feel my juices saturate my pussy and flow down my thighs. I can’t find my breath and my already black vision dims further. I lose strength in my arms and legs, and I sag and flop around like a useless creature.
The arm around me tightens as Q takes control of me. He carries me around the side of the bed, and tosses me down before he climbs over me. My wrists are caught and trapped in one hand, my legs are parted once more and he’s seated fully inside me between one frenzied heartbeat and the next.
My back arches off the bed as he fucks me with renewed vigor. Dirty, decadent sounds of wet flesh slapping against flesh forms the background music to this lewd coupling. I hear the cameras. The wash of shame builds. But so does the onslaught of sensation.
Above me, Q’s breathing turns even harsher. His cock thickens inside me. I’m stretched to my absolute fullest and strung as tight as a bow.
Thick, mechanical words flow over me as he falls into his own pleasure trance. “Fuck you for days…you milk me so good…mine…fucking mine…motherfucker!”
The words are like torch paper to my fire.
I shouldn’t be enjoying this. I am literally under a spotlight, staging a performance for an audience of one or an audience of a million. The words falling from his lips could be words practiced in front of a mirror in a room somewhere in this strange place.
I shouldn’t be enjoying this.
But I am.