Authors: Sarah McCarty
Tags: #Fiction, #Erotica, #General, #Short Stories (Single Author)
effort to control her breathing. It came out ragged and loud.
He pul ed back and his cock tapped at her anus. “Are
you ready for me?”
He had to know she was. He’d told her to keep herself
always ready for him and she did though he’d never taken
her that way. Mainly because she always froze up. Her
“Yes” was a soft moan of expectancy.
He slid a finger in her ass. The tight ring spasmed,
clutching him hard.
“Oh God,” she moaned, trying to steady her knees
beneath the surge of pleasure.
“I guess you are,” he murmured at the smoothness of his
entry, probing gently. She moaned again and pushed back,
trying to establish a rhythm. He stretched her wider and
introduced another finger. For a moment, she balked,
tightening against the invasion. He paid her no mind, pul ing
his fingers out, dragging against her sensitive flesh as he
withdrew.
“Relax and push back,” he coaxed, easing them back in,
spreading her as he did. “You know you love this.”
She did. She loved it when he played with her ass, no
matter how he took it. Gentle or rough, it turned her on until
she could scream just thinking about him eventual y
claiming it. She took a breath, waited for the next
withdrawal and then pushed back.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Show me how much you like
it.”
She didn’t have much choice. Her nerves were on fire.
Her entire being focused on his fingers and the pace he
was setting, slow and easy when she wanted hard and fast,
every twist, every scissor of his fingers divine torture. When
she was almost screaming with frustration, he pul ed free.
His cock tapped her frantical y throbbing opening. She
jerked up, hips hungrily rearing back, wanting the
consummation. Only to be denied again when he stepped
back. She dropped her head to the mattress, her pussy
aching, ass clenching, feeling so empty she thought she’d
die from it.
Marc nudged her foot with his again. She widened her
stance. It took two more nudges before she was at the level
he wanted, legs wide, tight muscles straining, every sense
attuned to him, wanting him. “Perfect.”
It was the only warning she had before he pushed his
thick cock into her pussy. She bucked and would have
col apsed if he hadn’t anchored her hips with his hands,
holding her steady for the solid penetration.
It wasn’t easy taking him like this — he was a big man
and her inner muscles struggled to accept his width as he
pressed inexorably inward — but it was also arousing as
hel . Feeling his cock drive deep, having him pul her hips
back into his on the grinding descent; hearing his orders to
take him, to fuck him, moaned hoarsely in her ear as his
fingers dug into her thighs, giving her no choice but to do as
he ordered, to pleasure him as he needed. It was her
wildest fantasy, having him use her like she was there for
his pleasure only. And it was now coming true.
She pushed back, taking another inch, his curse flowing
above her just so much sweet music because she knew
she’d drawn it from him against his wil . Just as she knew
the next thrust wasn’t as control ed as the first. Yes, yes,
yes! With every hard thrust she opened wider, took him
deeper.
She braced her arms on the bed, pushing back further. It
wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted him to
pound that thick cock into her, ride her until he couldn’t hold it anymore. She wanted him to claim her, to make her his in
a total y primitive way that went far deeper than any woman
would consider political y correct. She wanted him to fuck
her without finesse, without control. Just him and her and
the need she inspired in him. She wiggled her hips. A
smart sting on her right cheek halted the movement. “Stay
stil and take it.”
Oh God! She bit her lip as the sting melded with the heat
burning her from the inside out, feeding it. How had he
known? In her dreams he said things like that to her, did
things like this to her, but she’d never told him, never written it down. How had he known this part of her fantasy she’d
never dared to confess?
His cock continued to plunder her pussy, pushing solidly
in, catching on sensitive nerve endings as her muscles
parted to accommodate his width, dragging and stretching
her flesh as he withdrew, every stroke, every heated inch
destroying the control she prided herself on. The control
she didn’t want in bed. Her clit ached and pulsed, needing
his touch, her touch, anything. Al it would take was the
barest stimulation there and she’d go hurtling over the
precipice she could sense him approaching.
He didn’t give it to her. Just kept fil ing her with his cock,
feeding her need, her desire, building it until she wanted it
to go on forever yet she didn’t think she could bear it if it
did. Continuing until she couldn’t think of anything beyond
the fact that she was his, and she loved him so.
With a thrust so deep it pierced her soul Marc came,
grinding his hips so deeply into hers, his zipper cut into the
flesh of her buttocks. She pushed back, begging for more.
Becky could feel his cock pulse that brief second before it
jerked, tapping against her G-spot, fil ing her with his hot
come, giving her some of what she wanted but not enough.
Not enough to come. She clawed at the comforter and
clenched again. His dark laugh let her know he knew what
she was doing. What he was doing to her.
“You want more?”
She shuddered and admitted the glorious truth. “Yes.”
His big hand worked between them, cupping her pussy.
“Greedy thing.”
She had no defense. She was greedy. She wanted
more. Everything he could give her.
His cock jerked within her, touching that spot. His
fingers, snapped against the pad of her pussy, sharp and
hard. She stiffened in shock as wild sensation burned up
into her womb. Before she could sort it out, he was doing it
again, harder, stronger. Delight cut through shock, a
mixture of sweet pain and searing pleasure, to strong to
deny, too overwhelming to sort out. Too fucking fantastic to
resist.
“Come for me.”
Low, deep and intent, the order didn’t leave her any
choice. On the next slap she did, bucking and arching her
hips for more of whatever he wanted to give her, open to
the pleasure, the pain or a combination of the two. Just
open….
He was holding her, his arms wrapped around her while
his big body covered her. With every breath she took, she
absorbed his scent, hers, theirs.
His cock flexed within her. They were stil joined. Becky
opened her hands on the mattress, bracing herself — for
what, she didn’t know, just whatever was going to happen
to destroy this moment.
His lips skimmed her temple, her cheek, soft gentle
caresses that melted into her soul.
“Can you feel my seed in you?” he asked, pul ing his stil -
hard cock almost al the way out before sliding back in, his
voice as quiet and as deep as the night around them.
“Yes.”
“It makes you hot, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Tel me.”
The order wasn’t unexpected. The surge of lust at
hearing it, at contemplating obeying it, was. She dug her
nails into the sheet, holding on as the quiver shook her from
head to toe. Her voice, when she found it, was husky and
raw, as if al the screams she’d suppressed over the years
had left their mark. “When you fil me with your seed, it
makes me crazy.”
He stroked her again, slow and lazy. “How crazy?”
“I can’t get enough of it,” she admitted breathlessly. “Of
you.”
She surged back, almost there, but he stepped away.
She was suddenly, devastatingly empty. She groaned a
protest.
A brush of flesh on flesh, and then there was only the
lingering warmth of his seed inside her, keeping her
achingly aroused. She knew she’d stay that way until she
could no longer feel his essence.
“Take off your clothes,” he instructed quietly. “And then
climb into bed and close your eyes.”
A light slap on her rear had her hurrying to comply. The
sheets were chil y. She lay there on her back, shivering with
cold and anticipation until the heat from the fire seeped
through and then it was just anticipation shaking her from
head to toe.
It took her a minute to realize Marc had left the room.
With her eyes closed, every other sense seemed to
magnify, especial y her sense of hearing. She could hear
him in the bathroom washing up, track his move to the living
room, and then back. He stopped just inside the bedroom
door.
She pushed the covers down, the smooth cotton gliding
sensuously across her stomach and thighs. The catch of his
breath was audible. She smiled, drew up her knee and
arched her back, giving him a view of everything that was
his.
“Stil playing with fire, sweetheart?”
“Mmm.” She spread her legs wide, imagining how she
looked to him, wanton and eager. His shirt dropped to the
floor in a soft rustle. His wal et hit the bureau with a heavy
thud. The change in pocket of his jeans jingled as they slid
down his legs. The mattress dipped under his weight.
It dipped again as he moved closer. His arm brushed
her shoulder. The heat of his body covered her as light as a
touch. His scent enveloped her in a familiar hug.
She sensed his lips before she felt them pressing
against hers. His whispered, “I love you,” wove around her
in a protective spel . She whispered it back, letting the vow
fol ow her breath into his mouth, envisioning it blending with
his until the two were hopelessly intertwined. His hand
curved around her head in a gentle vise, holding her stil for
his kiss. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, keeping
him stil for hers.
Marc separated his mouth a scant inch from hers. “Don’t
open your eyes.”
“Okay.”
His finger traced her lip. “No matter what.”
Anticipation nudged her pulse up a notch. “No matter
what.”
His fingers fanned over the side of her face. He eased
her lower lip away from her teeth with his thumb. “I like your
mouth.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she settled for a
“Thank you.”
“I want it on me.”
She touched the fleshy pad of his thumb with her tongue.
“Now?”
“Yeah. Now.”
When she would have slid down his body, he tightened
his grip on her head. “Turn around first.”
The covers wrapped around her as she shifted, then
were tugged away, leaving her with only smooth cotton and
smooth skin to guide her. She fumbled a little without the
use of sight, relying on his hand for guidance. The tendons
in her inner thighs strained as she straddled his chest. He
was a big man al over. Built strong, inside and out. Solid.
Someone she could depend on always. She kissed her
way down his stomach, going with the rise and fal of his
abs, counting the ridges. One, two, three.
Her lips dipped into the wel of his navel, explored and
then moved below, fol owing the thin line of hair beneath.
His hand tangled in her hair. Ignoring the silent demand she
worked lower, not stopping until she found the soft sac of
his bal s. It came as natural y as breathing to kiss them. His
breath hissed in only to be released immediately, sighing,
“That’s good.”
Marc widened his thighs. She nuzzled them gently,
sucking softly on the delicate flesh, before kissing them
again. Against her cheek, his cock stirred. Because she
loved to feel him quicken with life, she snuggled his semi-
soft penis against her tongue, cherishing this brief time
when she could hold him in his entirety.
With a tug on her thigh, he drew her across his torso until
she was covering him like a living blanket. That was fine
with her. Having him like this, relaxed beneath her while the
echoes of their previous pleasure wrapped them in an
intimate cocoon was a pleasure unto itself. She scooted
back as his cock grew too big to hold in her mouth, letting
her lips slide up his length until only the mushroom shaped
head rested inside the taut circle. She twirled her tongue
around the firm tip, compressing with her lips before
sucking lightly, the spike of his hips a hot incentive to do it again.
He moaned and shoved the blankets clear. The hand on
her head pushed down even as he pushed his hips up.
Becky took what she could, giving him as much as she
could, wanting to please him this way, too. A bead of pre-
come spil ed into her mouth, salty, spiced with that flavor
that was uniquely Marc, seeping into her desire in a lazy
intoxicating wave that gathered momentum as another
deep, masculine moan flowed into the darkness around
her.
God! She loved the taste of him. The feel. She grasped
the base of his shaft in her hand, angling him back. She