Page 79 of Love By Design

“God, I wanted to wake you up and slow fuck you, but when I get inside of you, I turn into an animal.” He growled in my ear, pressing his weight down onto my wrists and slamming into me with enough force to knock the breath out of my lungs.

It was the best way to wake up.

My dick was hard as a rock, twisted in the sheets, and the tension only tightened with every pump of Marshall’s hips. It was like being choked down there, the pressure an unexpected burst of pleasure. With a low grunt, he released my wrists andgrabbed my hips, yanking me up so my chest pressed against the bed. The sheets unfurled from around my dick, and he thrust into me even harder than before. With my ass up in the air, he had a better angle and with the blood flow returning to my erection, I found myself lightheaded and gasping.

“Come,” he told me, low and rough, and I didn’t even have to try.

Within seconds, cum shot out of my cock. My body seized, muscles spasming, and above me, Marshall let out a low and rumbling roar. His cock thickened inside of me, his hot cum shooting deep into my body. There was no condom to keep us apart, and I struggled for air before throwing my face into the pillows to muffle the sounds of my pleasure.

“No,” Marshall warned, a fist in my hair. He pulled me up forcefully, deepening the arch in my back and bringing my face up for air. “I want to hear every sound you make, Silas. They’re mine.”

I sputtered, another burst of cum leaking from my cock at his words. Behind me, Marshall had gone still, save for the heave of his chest as he breathed and the pulse of his cock as he continued to empty into me. I closed my eyes and went limp, letting him hold me upright by the hair, by the hip.

He eventually lowered me down to the bed, petting his hands over the slope of my back as I murmured content sounds into the space between us. He eased out of me with a groan, then rolled onto his back to my side. His arm lay outstretched in invitation, and I shuffled closer so I was half on his chest, half on the ruined sheets.

“How did you sleep?” he asked after his breathing had settled back to normal.

“All night.”

He kissed the top of my head. “How are you feeling?”

“In what way?”

“Both.”

“Physically, perfect.” I reached down and gave a slow stroke of my cock, already going soft. My skin stuck to my palm, cum already cooling and drying. “When you were…when we…”

I trailed off, suddenly feeling unsure of how to explain to him what had happened with the sheets, with my body. It was one thing to admit I liked to be spanked, to be caned, to be deprived of my senses, another entirely to tread further.

“Tell me.” His words were soft but had no room for argument.

“The sheets twisted around my dick while you were fucking me, and I liked it.”

“Did it hurt you?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes. A little.”

Marshall hummed and wrapped his arm around me, brushing hair back from my face. “And emotionally?”

“Good,” I answered, which was true because, at that moment, I was. But I knew as soon as the adrenaline and arousal subsided, reality would come crashing back down around me. My dad had fired me, and that was worse than just losing my job. I wasn’t sure what would become of our relationship after the conversation—the argument—we’d had the day before.

“Silas.”

“I don’t have another option,” I said, closing my eyes and breathing in the comforting smell of Marshall’s sweat mixed with the lingering undertones of his bath soap. “I’ll find another job.”

“Do you want me to get you in touch with my friend Cory?”

“It can’t hurt.”

“As soon as we’re up, I’ll call him,” he said.

I pulled my lips together between my teeth and exhaled. “Thank you.”

“Coffee is ready.” Marshall stroked his fingers down myshoulder, down my arm. He paused, almost as if deliberating before saying, “I need to shower and get ready for work, but you can make me breakfast. Everything you need is in the fridge.”

A surge of complicated emotions exploded inside of me, somewhere between my chest and my stomach. I liked the command. I welcomed it, but for some reason I was beyond nervous about what it meant.

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered, reluctantly untangling myself from Marshall’s arms. My borrowed clothes were discarded on the floor, and I grabbed the sweats but not the shirt. Marshall watched me get half-dressed, and he stayed in bed long after I padded barefoot out to the kitchen.