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My teeth sank into my lip as he thrust into me, fucking me in the entryway of his house. Me, completely naked while he was still wearing his suit.
My body submitted completely and utterly to him while he fucked me hard, one hand at my hip, the other holding a handful of my hair, arching my back to the point of pain.
“You’re mine, Stella,” he grunted.
I made a sound of agreement, but my vocal chords didn’t seem to work.
He yanked my hair harder. “Louder.”
My orgasm built with every single thrust, my limbs growing weaker as Jay’s body sucked all the energy out of me.
“I’m yours,” I rasped at the same second I came apart.
“Mine,” he repeated.
It was an oath.
A sentence.
“No,” Jay hissed as I tried to run my hands up his back.
I froze immediately, momentarily feeling awkward, unsure of myself.
He kept moving on top of me. We’d made it to the bedroom. Eventually. He’d carried me since I’d been pretty sure that my knees no longer worked. There’d been no respite from him. He’d peeled off his clothes then buried himself inside me once more. I’d barely recovered from the first time, but I wanted more. I wanted to drown in him. Wanted him to drown in me. I was already addicted to him, already fearing the emptiness that would come when he stopped fucking me.
I’d lost myself in this, in him. Forgotten about the rules, about the reality of what this really was. Which was why I’d circled my arms around him, clawing at his back.
That’s when he’d gone still, spoken the single word in a tone so cold it extinguished all of the fire within me.
“Hold onto the headboard,” he commanded.
I obeyed.
The second my palms grasped the cold metal, he continued. His hand pressed into my hip as he thrust into me, my body submitting to his will. Jay’s lips found my neck, then his teeth, grazing over the delicate skin, then sinking in harder as if he were trying to mark me, scar me as his cock moved hard, fast, owning my insides. The fire started smoldering inside of me once more, and I quickly forgot about the cold shame that had washed over me with a single word.
All I thought about was Jay. And how I might die if he didn’t continue moving inside of me, building me up. My eyes squeezed closed as my orgasm crept upward from my toes.
“Eyes, Stella,” Jay grunted. “Open them.”
Again, I obeyed.
Jay’s gaze was cold, calculating, almost cruel as he watched me come. Watched my world split apart under his grip. I cried out as his own body went taut, as he pumped himself inside of me.
The aftershocks lasted a long time. The edges of my vision came in and out of focus, my body quivering as Jay pulled out of me.
“Go into the bathroom, clean up. Then come back to me.”
Again, without a word, I obeyed. I walked naked to the bathroom, Jay’s eyes following me as I did.
My face was flushed when I looked in the mirror. My hair a mess of curls, half in, half out of a bun. My lips were swollen from Jay’s mouth on mine, and there were marks on my neck from where he’d gripped me. There was a vacant glint to my blue eyes, my faculties having trouble returning to normal after what had just happened.
I moved to clean myself of Jay on autopilot, depositing the warm washcloth in his clothing hamper before walking back into the bedroom. It was dark, everything shapes of varying shades of black. But I found my way back to Jay, unsure of what was to come. Was there going to be more? Because I wasn’t quite sure I’d be able to survive it. Yet I would submit to whatever he wanted because my spent, satisfied and bruised body screamed out for more. More of this. More of him.
Jay’s arms yanked me to his chest the second my knee landed on the bed. I went willingly, curling myself up against him. His body was warm, hard ridges of muscle, and I fitted against him with ease.
There was none of the awkwardness I expected I might’ve felt afterward. None of the shame. I felt ... empty. Like he’d hollowed me out. But I didn’t mind it. I spent my days feeling too full. Of thoughts. Tasks. Doubts. Worries. Fantasies. Fears. It was nice to have them snatched away from me, for the moment at least.
“Tell me about your mother,” he commanded after several long beats of silence.
I tilted my head to stare at him, or to stare at the shape of him. This was not something I had expected. After he was done with me, I’d expected him to banish me from his bed, his space. To do so coldly, without emotion. I definitely hadn’t expected cuddling. Then again, this wasn’t exactly cuddling, my naked body splayed on top of his. I was also very glad that he did not expect me to leave the bed right away, because I was physically unable.
