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When I finally emerged, releasing my throat of the obstruction, gasping for air, he pulled me up by my arms and shoved me against the wall with my ass out.
He pushed my hands flat against the wall, kissing my neck and groaning as he teased my slit with his wet, spit-covered cockhead.
Excitement moved through my body, making my toes curl and my fingers shake, and then he plunged the entirety of his inches into me.
The rawness of the feeling made me cry out, but I pushed my mouth into my arm, biting my skin to keep myself quiet even as tears gathered at the corners of my eyes at the sheer size of him.
He moved between my cheeks like butter, slick with my spit and my juices, and his hand reached around to tweak my nipples as he fucked me, his size splitting me open while I quietly took it. I arched my back so that he could hit my G-spot, and the angle was so delicious that I shook and cried into my forearm.
He fucked me more furiously as he sensed that my orgasm was approaching, and I moaned and wriggled against him.
We came together, our bodies shaking violently. As he came inside me, he held my hips tightly so that he could move inside me faster and harder, pushing me flatter and flatter against the wall.
I had a flashback to that night, to the night that got me pregnant, the moment that it all changed, his cum coating my walls. I’d felt so good that I’d given myself over to it.
And now I was doing it again.
When it was over though, reality came crashing back like a wave.
We stood there, both of us breathing hard, our clothes disheveled, and our anger replaced by something far more complicated: the truth of who we were and what we wanted from each other.
twenty-six
Robert
She turned around, her cheeks flushed and embarrassed, as my cum dripped down the inside of her leg.
Her eyes darted to mine briefly before dropping, her vulnerability palpable. When her eyes met mine again, I reached out and cupped her chin in my hand, jerking her head up to look at me.
“Don’t say his name ever again,” I growled, the words coming out rougher than I intended. “I hate hearing it from you.”
She blinked, her lips parting in surprise, but didn’t argue.
I reached down for my sweater and shirt on the ground, shaking out the fabric. I peeled my shirt from the pile and handed it to her to clean up with.
It felt like such a youthful thing to do, to clean up with a shirt. She brought back memories of being a young man. She made me feel young again.
Wincing, she took the shirt and wiped at her thigh with it, her movements brisk and self-conscious.
I smirked at her, the sight of her cleaning herself with my shirt sparking a possessive streak I couldn’t deny. I liked seeing her with my cum on her. I liked making her mine, if only for a moment.
She cringed and said, “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I asked, my smirk deepening as I pulled my sweater over my head.
“Like I belong to you,” she muttered, her voice tinged with frustration.
“Don’t you?” I asked, tilting my head, watching her reaction carefully.
She sighed deeply, her shoulders sagging slightly as she pulled her pants back on. I tried not to show that it hurt.
Finally, I said, offhandedly, “You know, you seemed pretty happy about being mine when I was inside you.”
“You just seem so happy about marking your territory. It’s…” she groped for the word, her eyes roving. She landed on “unbecoming.”
I chuckled. “Unbecoming. What is this, a Jane Austen novel? So I like seeing you covered in my cum. Is that so wrong? I’m a man, aren’t I?”
Delia squeezed her eyes shut, and I watched her process my words. When she opened them, her tongue was prodding at her bottom teeth again. She was upset. “It’s not…I can’t promise you anything like that.”