Page 58 of Waters that Drown Us
“Emily, please,” I whine, the angle limiting my ability to move against her. All the fight I had a few moments ago has dissolved like sugar in water, and I’ll beg if that’s what gets her to give me what I need.
“You have to be quiet for me, baby. Can you do that?” she asks, pressing her fingers against my entrance through the fabric. I choke out another frustrated cry, my eyes drifting closed as I focus on chasing that feeling only she can give me.
“Apparently not,” she laughs. Without warning, she slides her fingertips under the waistband of my underwear, stepping back to pull them down my legs. “This is a private bay, but we don’t want anyone else at the range to hear you, do we?”
Exposed, with my legs still spread for her, I try to find the words to answer her. But before I get the chance, Emily balls up my underwear and taps my chin with her knuckle.
“Open.”
And because I want her to choose for me, I do.
There’s a little initial panic when breathing gets harder, my mouth stuffed full of cotton, but Emily watches me carefully, inhaling through her nose like an example for my overstimulated brain to follow. As soon I’m breathing evenly again, Emily shoves my skirt up, pressing my thighs open.
“There you go, Pecas,” she placates, staring at my pussy like she owns it. “Now you can beg and scream and cry all you want.”
The sob that wrenches from my throat when she touches my clit is muffled, but it still lights a fire in her eyes. Emily wastes no time, her fingers moving easily slicked with the undeniableevidence of how much I need her. So badly I could cry, and she knows it. I beg for more, even though she can’t possibly understand my words. But Emily could always read my body, and the way I’m rocking my hips against her hand, demanding more from her slow, gentle movements, is clear.
A finger slips into my entrance, and I grip the edge of the table, using every ounce of leverage I have to chase the feeling. Usually Emily talks so much when she fucks me, telling me how perfect or beautiful or brave or good I am, but she’s silent now. So focused on where we’re connected, her pupils blown as she picks up the pace.
The sound of my muffled cries and my soaked pussy echoing off the metal and concrete of this room are obscene, reflecting my own pleasure back at me and ratcheting it up tenfold. Emily slips a second, and then third finger inside me, but it’s not only the fullness that pushes me closer and closer to the edge. It’s the way she fucks me roughly, like I can take it, like she knows I’m not fragile or breakable. The pleasure teeters on the verge of pain, a razor-thin edge that we dance on together as I meet her thrust for thrust.
My orgasm slams through me, tears leaking from my eyes, cries stifled by the fabric in my mouth as the pleasure rolls through me over and over again. My eyes are clenched shut, but Emily grips the base of my neck harder, and they fly open to see her watching me fall apart.
“More, pretty girl.”
My pussy is so sensitive and overstimulated that I shake my head, and Emily briefly lets go to yank the underwear from my mouth.
“Something to say, Pecas?” she asks, still pounding into me, the waning orgasm transforming into the beginnings of a new one, building in my core all over again.
“It’s too much,” I whine, trying my hardest to keep my voice low. Emily’s answering smile would be cruel if there wasn’t so much adoration in it.
“I don’t think it’s enough,” she says, pushing my shoulder back gently so I’m laying flat on the long, metal table. At the edge, she uses the hand not fucking me into oblivion to press into my thigh, holding me wide open for her.
Unbelievably, she picks up her pace even more, sweat beading at her hairline as she fucks me harder and faster than I knew I could handle. My skin vibrates with need, the table under me warm and slick with my own sweat as I arch into the feeling.
I know I’m chantingI can’t I can’t I can’t, but the words feel far away. Everything’s floaty and buzzing as I take what Emily gives, This time the orgasm builds slower, but she doesn’t give me an inch, fucking me like I can take anything.
She grabs my hand. Moves it to my chest. Guides my fingers to roll my own nipple between them.
And I fall apart like the world is ending.
Every inch of my body feels electrified, frying my brain cells into oblivion as I come on her fingers. Emily’s free hand covers my mouth, but I can’t feel bad for crying out when she makes me feel like this. So free, so unbreakable, so perfect.
Finally, she starts to slow her movements. She gathers my limp frame, tucking my underwear into her back pocket as she lifts me into her arms, murmuring praise into my hair as she kisses me.
I know we’re not done. That Emily will probably give me water and a little rest, take us back to my apartment so she can finish what she started. And even though I can already feel my heart rate picking up at the thought, I savor this moment. Broken and whole with the only person who makes me feel unbreakable.