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“No what?”
“Please… I want…”
“What do you want?”
“Don’t stop. Just…J-just keep on doing what you’re doing.”
There. I’ve said it. I’ve given him full control. And my god, it’s so freeing.
I don’t have to tell him twice. So, inch by inch, muscle by muscle, I force myself to relax. When I finally achieve relaxation in full, his thumb breaches my hole, and all I can do is whimper.
It burns, and even more so when he removes his thumb and starts to work one long finger inside, but his other hand is stroking and finger-fucking my pussy so good that it’s impossible to concentrate on anything negative.
In minutes, he’s pushing two figures past that tight ring and thrusting them in and out in earnest.
Oh god. Sparks zip through my belly, my lips parting in a silent moan.
“My good girl, my sweet Melody,” he groans, sliding the fingers out slowly one final time. “I’m going to fuck this hot little ass of yours to remind you that only I will ever make you feel this fucking good.”
“Yes,” I breathe, even as my heart rate spikes. “Please!”
I hear the zipper of his pants and the jingle of his belt, and then his cock has taken the place of his fingers. He has to abandon my pussy for a moment to do this, so when he starts to push his thick, rock-hard cock into my hole, it’s the only thing I feel.
He’s probably doing it like this on purpose. I shouldn’t be so turned on by it, but I am.
The burning from earlier becomes genuine pain as the head finally slips in, but now, he resumes pleasuring my pussy, and the pain disappears in a flash. I feel so full, impossibly full, and he’s barely inside, only about two inches.
Malcolm keeps pressing and pressing, and every time I’m sure my body can’t handle anymore, he manages to find space inside of me.
By the time I feel his hips bump against my ass cheeks, there are tears pricking the corners of my eyes, and not for any negative reason… It’s because the sensations I’m feeling are so powerful that I’m overwhelmed by it.
Malcolm fucks my ass so slowly at first, being so much more careful than he is with my pussy, and it allows me to feel every second of him pulling out and pushing in again.
Any other time, I’d be coming already, just from the way he’s fingering me and stroking my clit, but something even more intense than usual is building, coming from the way he’s fucking my ass, too.
All of the feelings, all of the unbelievable pleasure, are coming into something so strong that I don’t know if I’ll survive it.
I grip the headboard for dear life, completely oblivious to the moans and sounds leaving me. My head hangs low, my ass in the air all for Malcolm Mayfield, and he’s going to make me come harder than I ever thought possible.
Instead of that ball of tension that usually builds in my core, this time it feels like it’s taking up my entire core and into my chest.
He’s fucking me faster now, and his fingers are focused solely on my clit now, bringing me that blinding, electric feeling I love so much. I close my eyes, try to breathe, and let it all wash over me.
Once I let go of that last little bit of anxiousness, the tension inside me explodes. I go stiff like I’m being shocked, as the orgasm hits me full force. Legs spasming, it’s only my arms on the headboard and Malcolm keeping me from collapsing, and I see every color possible behind my eyelids as the climax rips through me.
I have no control left. I’m almost screaming, pushing back into Malcolm to get everything I can from him.
He comes now, too, gripping my hips with both hands. Malcolm tilts his head to the ceiling and roars, hot come coating the inside of my ass, wringing the last few spasms of my orgasm out of me as it does.
He comes back to earth first, gently pulling out of me and helping me to lie down on my side while I suck in air desperately. He comes back with a wet towel, cleaning me off before throwing it aside and lying down behind me, gathering me into his arms and burying his nose into my hair.
My poor dress is ruined, but Malcolm can afford a million more, I’m sure.
It’s definitely strange, lying here in our formal wear—well, half of his formal wear, in Malcolm’s case—both of us utterly wrecked by the sex we just had. It was a catharsis, for sure, but I still feel the doubts creeping in at the edge of my mind when I start to relax.
So I make an excuse. “I can’t sleep like this,” I murmur. “Can we take a bath?”
Then, a horrifying thought hits me, and I bolt up. “Wait, we don’t have to host dinner still, right?!”
