Page 79 of Not So Goode

My tits bounced hard enough to ache. And that made something I thought was overtaxed within me spark all over again.

He didn’t pull back slowly or gently this time. Oh no. A quick backward movement, and then he yanked my hair again to pull me backward, and his huge throbbing cock drilled into me, and at the moment he filled me totally, and his hard hips met my ass with a loud slap, his empty hand cracked across my ass cheek, stinging it, making me shriek—

And making that spark conflagrate into a wildfire of another—yes,anotherimminent orgasm. How many could I have? Jesus, so many.

Backward, and this time I was ready. Or I thought I was.

I wasn’t ready.

He fucked me, yanking my hair, and spanking my other cheek, and now both stung, warm. Again––thrust-yank-spank.

Faster, now. He spanked my ass with each thrust, hard, alternating, until my ass was throbbing with the hot sting, and that only built the fire of my orgasm, and this one threatened—promised—to be the most intense, body-ripping, soul-melting one yet. Building slowly, in exponential degrees, the shaking and quaking and the heat and the tightness and the wild insane mind-scrambling nerve-shredding desperate ecstasy more than I thought a human body was capable of feeling.

And I was watching him do it to me.

Watching my body respond. Watching my tits bounce and sway under me, watching his hand rise, pause at the top, and swing down to slap across my ass, watching my ass ripple with the impact, watching myself lurch forward, eyes wide and mouth open, skin going flushed crimson all over with sweaty exertion.

He fucked me, hard.

Again and again. Hard, harder, harder.

He was snarling, growling nonstop, each thrust a grunt, a shout. As if he was chasing own orgasm, as if despite his words of barely there control over his imminent orgasm he was pursuing something relentless and evasive. As if it was buried inside me, and he had to fuck his way to it, and if he didn’t reach it, he would die.

Desperation. Never had I seen such raw, unmasked vulnerability and desperation in a man, or heard it in a man’s voice.

He let go of my hair, and both hands gripped into my ass cheeks, pulled them apart, yanked me backward by my hips, to leverage himself inside me harder, deeper.

I screamed again, louder, him filling me to the point of an aching overfullness, so I was ripped open by him from the inside out, and it was the most incredible feeling in the world.

I was his.

Utterly.

Yet, I knew,knewin my soul that he was equally mine. It was written on his face. Painted on his features, scribed in the weathered lifelines of his face.

“Charlie!” A savage growl of my name, knifing into my heart. He needed to come. Needed it, so bad.

“Come for me, Crow!” I cried. “Please, baby, let me feel you come inside me.”

He yanked me backward, fingers in my hips leaving bruises on my pale skin, and we watched us, eyes meeting in the mirror, the slap of our skin and the gasps of our breathing in unison, and the cries and grunts a music unlike any other, the soundtrack to this orchestral orgy of mutual abandonment each to the other.

“Fuck me, Crow,” I whispered, too far gone to speak any louder. “Fuck me harder, baby.”

And he did.

Oh god, he did.

And then, with a rabid, feral, guttural roar, he pounded into me, shuddering all over, pushing deep, and I felt it, then. Felt him release. Felt his cock slide deeper as he pushed into me, harder, deeper, felt his balls tap against my sex, felt his stomach against me, his thighs against mine. Instead of pulling out, he just tried to go deeper, and he throbbed inside me.

“Charlie—” his voice dropped to a whisper. “Oh fuck—oh god,Charlie.”

And then he finally pulled almost all the way out and slammed deep again, falling over me, chest to my spine, gasping, and now his thrusts were quick and relentless and he righted himself and gave over to hard fast thrusts, arching backward and yanking me, growling, still coming, his thrusts without rhythm, without timing, without technique, just raw wild primal fucking.

And that—thatwas when I came. Truly, wrenchingly came.

I couldn’t even scream.

He yanked free of me, and I knew what he was doing without having to be told. I whirled, leaped, and he caught me, slid back home, and I screamed around my teeth clenched into his shoulder, leaving what was sure to be nasty teeth-mark bruises, and he was fucking me so beautifully, just holding me, and I was clinging to him, wrapped around him, skin to skin, body to body, melted and melded to him.