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He grins, drops a kiss on my mouth, and lets go of my balls to wrap his hand around my cock even as he pulls out a few inches and slams back into my ass.
God. I groan and buck and writhe. I’m so fucking hard his grip on my cock hurts, but he starts to stroke me, and the pain turns into pleasure. So much fucking pleasure, I’m bursting at the seams, coming apart.
My grip on his shoulders has to be leaving bruises. But I can’t let go. Heat bursts from my cock, and a hoarse cry tears itself from my throat as I come, and come. It feels like falling through empty space, burning, burning…
“Damn,” he breathes, moving over me, in me, forcing another choked cry from me and another crushing wave of pleasure. Then he stiffens and groans long and low, his cock swelling more, then jerking as he comes, too.
He slumps over me, and I catch him, wrapping my arms around him. We’re breathing together, our hearts pounding against one another, every inch of our sweaty skin touching. I clutch him close, struggling to wrap my head around what just happened.
My body’s still humming with the release like a plucked chord. Shit, I’ve never come so hard before. This orgasm was so much stronger than anything I’ve ever managed with my own hand. So damn sweet and sharp. It was…
He shifts, sitting up and starting to pull out of me. I grunt, my ass clenching, and I force myself to relax, watching as he removes the condom and ties it off, then drops it on top of our pile of discarded clothes.
I open my mouth to say something. Not sure what, but after having your mind blown to bits, surely you should talk about it, right?
Though the only thing that comes to mind is, wow, and goddamn, and… Did he feel it, too? Did he feel the world move, like I did? I wanna ask, but forming a question seems like too much work right now.
My lips feel numb.
My heart is racing.
And then he gets up and starts hauling me up and off the sofa. “Bed,” he whispers. “Come on. We both need to catch some Zs.”
Seriously?
He grins at me, satisfied and sated and way too alert after what happened. My muscles have turned to jelly, my knees won’t hold me. I feel as if the world was turned on its head tonight, and he acts as if we just took a tumble in the sheets.
Which is what we did… minus the sheets.
So there’s my answer. He didn’t feel it. Why should he, right? For him it wasn’t different than any other time.
I let Raine tug me into his bedroom, aware I should be resisting, insisting I’ll sleep on the sofa, but dammit, I’m still reeling from everything. And worse still, it’s just me.
Why did it hit me like this? Sure, I came as he fucked me, and that’s never happened before, but it was more than that. Is it because he enacted a scene from my dreams? Taking over, something that should have tripped all my wires and triggered all my panic reflexes but somehow didn’t, playing my body like a damn instrument, keeping his promise… Giving me no pain. Only pleasure, so much pleasure…
I shiver at the memory, my spent dick throbbing, as he pulls me on his wide bed, not quite a double but almost, and pulls the covers over us. He pulls me into his arms, shifting me until I’m on my side with his chest flush against my back—and again I should be going into a panic fit and I’m not.
Too lost in thought to pay too much attention. Because I shouldn’t be so fucking shaken. Sure, it was just sex. I’ve had sex every day of my life since I could get an erection. Scratch that, before even.
But this wasn’t just sex. It was so much fucking more. To me, at least.
And that’s exactly the problem. That’s what I wanted to avoid all along, falling this hard, forgetting about my mistrust, and who’s to blame?
Only myself.
Hush little baby in the cradle, the wind is blowing, the cradle will rock…
The words still humming in my ears, I jerk awake. I still feel blades cutting through me, burning as they sink into my skin and part my flesh.
Where am I?
I can’t move. Fuck, I’m tied up. Panic grips me, and I’m so cold my teeth are chattering. I struggle, although I know it’s useless, and God, I’m so tired of this. Always waking up in a panic, wondering where I am, what happened. If I’m safe. If I’m even alive.
Phantom pain dances all over my body. I swear I can feel every scar like an open wound, and I’d curl up and wait for the pain to pass, only I can’t fucking move. No matter how I twist and writhe, the bonds won’t give.
I groan, my eyes stinging and the back of my throat burning.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” a voice rumbles. The bonds shift, relaxing, and I jerk away, falling off the bed and slamming into the floor.
