Page 139 of Caution to the Wind
“As much as I’d like to come down your throat,” he told me as he pulled away and moved around behind me. “I need to feel your tight pussy around me.”
I leveraged my hips up as much as I could, spreading my thighs until they strained against the material of my leggings around my knees. I felt trussed up and on display for him and it was the sexiest I’d ever been.
“Fuck, you’re a vision,” he praised as he got on the big chair and straddled my legs, sliding his naked dick between my wet thighs. “Better than any fantasy.”
The praise was almost too much. I whimpered as he teased us both by sliding in the hot crevice of my pressed thighs and then yelped when he smoothly slid inside me on one strong thrust. He was too big to press in all the way on the first drive, but I loved the delicious sensation of him working me open. I loved the struggle of taking his girth deep inside me. It might have been my imagination, but he felt so much better ungloved, a hot imprint on my insides.
He held me by the hips as he fit himself inside me, careful not to disturb my freshly tattooed back, shoulder, and upper left butt cheek.
“Love seein’ my ink on you,” he admitted on a groan as he tunneled in and out. “Love it way too fuckin’ much I got carried away puttin’ my mark on you.”
“I want whatever mark you want to give me,” I confessed as I pushed back with every thrust, mindless enough with pleasure to be honest. “With your tattoo gun, your teeth, your tongue, your cock. I’ve always wanted to be your canvas.”
“You’d even wear my cum with pride, wouldn’t you?” he taunted through gritted teeth, reaching beneath me to slap lightly at my pussy each time he ground deep inside me. “You wanna feel my warm cum runnin’ down your thighs?”
“Yes,” I gasped, neck straining, legs trembling as I fought off the tidal wave threatening to take me under and rob me of this exquisite tension. “Fuck, yes, please, Henning.”
“You might hate me when you see what I marked you as,” he admitted, voice tight, hands even tighter on my hips as he drove harder and harder into my clenching heat. “But I don’t fuckin’ care. You got your teeth and claws in me, it’s only fair I got my ink on you. Even when I hate you, you’re mine.”
I came.
So hard I screamed, my body convulsing in shock waves on the chair. So hard I almost threw Axe-Man off the chair. He adjusted his weight to thrust down into me, keeping me still as he chased his own climax. I was still breaking into smaller and smaller pieces when I felt him growl viciously and pull out of my spasming pussy. The sound of my softening groans and the hardthwapof his hand shuttling over his cock, slick with my cum, echoed in the empty shop. A moment later, he let out a savage shout that sent another current of pleasure pulsing through me, and he came all over my right ass cheek and thigh. The hot splash of his seed felt like a baptism, like acceptance after years of praying for absolution.
And when he rubbed his big, rough palm over my cheek, smearing his cum into my skin, I was as close to bliss as I had ever been before.
“My cum and ink look fuckin’ beautiful on you,” he told me, quiet and rough as gravel. There was a captivated quality to his tone that told me how genuine those words were. “You were just a girl before, and the moment you came to town and I saw you were a woman, you awoke this fuckin’ beast in me.”
I shivered as he ran a thumb under my newly inked ass cheek, studying it.
“But you like it,” he murmured, not a question.
Still, I nodded, a melted puddle of pleasure on his chair. “That’s an understatement.”
“Don’t know what I’m doin’ with you,” he admitted, patting my cheeks until they jiggled. “But I can’t seem to fuckin’ stop. Lovin’ you feels like a curse, so why don’t I want it to end?”
It wasn’t a question I could answer. I knew he wasn’tinlove with me the way I’d loved him for years, but it felt like enough that he was admitting he still cared for me or cared for me again. I wanted him to release me from my makeshift tie, roll me over and collect every inch of me into his big, strong hold, but I knew that was taking the dream too far.
Having him like this was more than I’d ever thought I’d have, and even though I knew it wouldn’t last, I was resolved to enjoy him like this until the very last second.
It was strange the way he made me feel. The sex we had was hard, almost primal. He was taking, and I was giving in a very true sense. Nearly taking too much, but not quite. Nearly giving too much––everything––but not quite. But the way he touched me didn’t feel like taking, not at its core. It felt like, with every bite of strong square teeth and lash of his tongue, wth every stroke and spank and bruising grip, he shaped me like clay. Bringing the raw, real me to the surface, refining and pulling and positioning until the climax fired me into being, and in the aftermath, I felt different. Not other. Not new. Seen. Always seen with Axe-Man, even when I tried to hide behind the hate fucking. Even when he tried to pretend he was disgusted by his desire for me. His hands were honest, always. It was why he was such an incredible artist on canvas or flesh. On me. Because he spoke more with his actions than he’d ever been capable of with his words. The fact that he’d deigned to tattoo his art onto me himself spoke volumes. It made me…ache with hope. Stupid, wonderful, dangerous hope.
So I pretended I was fine when he carefully taped up my new ink and helped me right my clothes, gently pulling up my leggings and putting my tank over my bandaged back himself. I didn’t cry when he tenderly rubbed the circulation back into my wrists or when he raked his fingers through my messy hair. I didn’t beg him to kiss me because I’d had his cock in my mouth and my pussy but not the simple profound pleasure of his tongue in my mouth. I ached for it more than I’d ever ached for anything else.
I even followed him back to Lake Mead on my own bike, laughing into the wind as I coaxed him into racing with me through the dark back roads to the cabin as if I hadn’t been fundamentally changed by experiencing his tenderness and possessiveness in the shop.
As if “even when I hate you, you’re mine” wasn’t on repeat in the back of my mind.
And I didn’t hunt him down to make him explain himself when later that night, after a late dinner with Cleo and Axe-Man and then a game of Texas Hold ’Em that we both let Cleo win, I went upstairs for bed and checked beneath the gauze on my ass to see what note he’d written into my skin.
Property of the Off-White Knightin the same small black, gothic writing of the tattoosloveandlosson his knuckles.
AXE-MAN
The human heartwas a sadistic thing. Somehow, the same woman I’d hated had become the only woman my battered heart felt whole and enlivened by. I watched her chat with Boner and Curtains in the corner of the clubhouse, perched on the arm of a leather couch while she debated somethin’ animatedly with her hands flyin’ through the air. The sight of her was like a fist punched through my chest, stranglin’ my heart. It felt good and bad at the same time, like I couldn’t breathe, but also, I didn’t want to ’cause I wanted to arrest this time when she was back in my life forever.
I’d never felt this electrified by a person in my entire life. It was unnervin’ to be so possessed, so overrun by feelings when I’d been a fairly calm and rational man my entire fuckin’ life. It felt like I was two men at war, my head and my gut brutalizin’ each other over what my heart should do about the question of Mei Zhen Marchand.
The mess of emotions fightin’ inside was impossible to ignore. Too complicated, too raw. I was angry, sad, bewildered…but above all, the reason I was currently brittle with rage, I was bitterly disappointed in my sense of self-preservation. ’Cause almost from the moment I saw Mei Zhen Marchand standin’ in my home, a long-buried but vital part of me’d wanted to open my arms and receive her warmly. Say “it’s been too long” and “my heart never stopped thinkin’ about you,” but to do so was to open all the windows and doors of a house in the face of an oncomin’ storm. More than hazardous, it was a death wish.