Trust Me (Rough Love #3) (24 page)

“It’s okay to hurt me,” she whispered as I twisted fingers in her hair. “I still want you to hurt me.”

She wanted recapture. She wanted to submit and kneel before me. I would have given anything for a handful of zip ties. Instead I used my belt to circle her wrists behind her back, and then held her against me to fasten the buckle at the front of her waist. She struggled to free her arms just as she had the first day. Just as she probably always would, which was okay, because it made me want her that much more.

I threw her onto the bed and stripped off my pants, leaving them in a heap on the floor. My cock was hard as fuck. I couldn’t wait to get inside her and make her hurt the way she wanted. When she tried to turn to me, I flipped her back over and knelt between her legs. It was so tempting to try to get into her ass, but I didn’t have lube, or even a condom to ease the way.

Soon. Later. Maybe tonight.

For now, I pulled her hips up and forced her thighs open. She moaned and buried her head in the sheets, then arched up again as I landed a few sharp slaps on her ass.

“Are you ready? Do you want me?”

“Yes, Sir, please!”

I squeezed her breasts and shoved my aching cock into her pussy. She shuddered as I drove deep, making her mine again. Jesus fuck, the sensation. The tightness. After all the longing and loneliness, it felt almost too good to be inside her.
Go slow. Appreciate all the sexy, wonderful things about her.

It had been so long since we’d simply fucked, without cages or manacles or all the other shit I kept in the dungeon. Her body was just as beautiful on a bed as it was on a rack or a spanking bench. I yanked her hair hard so I could feel the tension in her pussy. After that, my fingertips searched for her nipples, because when I pinched and twisted them, she always reacted with her hips.

“Hurt me,” she begged.

I growled and fucked her deeper, and slapped her ass hard enough to leave a bright red hand print. Soon there was a whole lattice of them, as I delivered noisy blows to the symphony of her cries. We might change in some ways during the days and months ahead, but this would always stay the same. She’d always have marks on her ass, because pain made her hotter and wetter than anything else I could do. Her juices were drowning my dick.

“You want to be hurt?” I asked.

Fuck.
Fuck.
Sometimes only one kind of hurt would do. I was going to take her ass after all, with some spit and pussy juice, because she needed it, and I wanted it.

“I’m going to stick it in your ass,” I said roughly. “Don’t fucking try to stop me.”

She made a sound that wasn’t yes or no, just the sound of someone being fucked so hard and so deep that she was pretty much up for anything. I pulled out and made her turn so she was on her back, and then shoved her legs up over my shoulders. She met my gaze with gorgeous dread as I spread her pussy lips and fingerfucked the hell out of her.

“You’re so fucking wet,” I said, shoving the moisture down toward her hole. “But I think it’s still going to hurt you.”

She squirmed then, until I clapped my hands over her thighs to still her. I lubed up my cock with more pussy juice and then spit on her asshole to turn her on.

“Please go slow,” she said as I probed her tiny hole with my dick.

“Please shut the fuck up. You said you wanted to be hurt.”

“Since when do you do what I say?” she sassed.

I put my hand over her mouth. “No more words. Pretend we’re in the dungeon. No talking.”

That got her hotter still. She loved when I took her speech away. Someday I’d do the eye contact thing too, and not allow her to look at me. It would be like the first day, with the mask, only this would be hotter, because she wouldn’t be terrified for her life the way she’d been at the W Hotel.

But I wanted her eye contact today. She looked wonderfully scared and horny, with her arms bound and her legs spread. I pressed into her ass, using her own moisture as lube. It wasn’t really enough to make things easy, but it was enough to get in. Her breath came in sharp, frantic pants as I stretched her asshole open. Oh, I was being very slow and deliberate now.

I held her gaze as I eased my way in, insisting that she open her eyes whenever she tried to close them from the pain. That was why I’d turned her over, so I could see the agony and ecstasy in real time, and of course, so I didn’t really hurt her any more than she wanted to be hurt. I was halfway in, and she was still struggling against me. I leaned on one hand and wrapped the other around her neck.

“Let go,” I said. “Let me do what I want.” I released her for a moment to slap her, then I grabbed her neck harder, digging my fingers into her skin. I could see the tumble into subspace, the helpless submission to my force and will. She made a sobbing sound in her throat, and she wasn’t asking me to stop. She was asking me to go harder.

I smiled. I couldn’t help it. “You don’t know a thing about self-preservation. Now give up your fucking asshole. This isn’t over until I get what I want.”

My fingers tightened on her windpipe. Her cheek was pink where I’d slapped it.

“Look at me,” I ordered when she started to go woozy. I let her breathe a little as I eased the rest of the way into her ass. She arched and pushed against my cock, and I had to steel myself not to go off right then. It felt delicious, this conquering. Her surrender. One required the other, which was why I’d treasure her forever. I stared down at my cock buried in her spasming hole. Wetness still seeped down her crack, because, by some miracle, this turned her on.

“I bet this feels awful,” I taunted her. “I bet it feels scary and dangerous.”

She moaned in response, and opened her mouth even though no words came out. I massaged her neck and she lengthened it, as if inviting me to have her breath if I wanted it. Fuck me, I wanted it. I gave her a hard, forceful, riotous kiss as I started to move in her ass. Now that the entry was accomplished, there were plenty of slippery juices to keep us going. Her moans drove me mad.

“Look at me,” I said. “Don’t take your eyes off me.”

I slapped her a couple more times to get my point across, then I kissed her again. She pressed her hips toward mine, shuddering every time I bottomed out inside her. Her non-verbal exclamations fell somewhere between
ow
and
yes
, which summed up the magic of our relationship, and the reason we needed to be together.

“You’re mine.” I stared into her depthless brown eyes and made her believe it. “You’ll always be mine, in this. In everything.”

Oh, God. She was using her bound hands to pull apart her ass cheeks, to offer me that much more of herself.
And she is Lust… Mine also, little painted poem of God.

I rewarded this groveling submission with more fingers on her windpipe. This time, I didn’t stop to give her breath. She knew by now when I was putting her out. She usually resisted or at least made some small, pleading sound, but this time she held my gaze in utter trust, in fearless, abject surrender. I didn’t want her to go. I wanted to hold that yielding gaze and save that moment forever, but physiology worked by certain rules, and a moment later, her body went slack, her eyes closed, and she was gone.

Now I was the one shuddering as I surged inside her. In those fleeting moments before she came to, she was vulnerable, helpless, and entirely mine. Even when she returned to consciousness, her body remained open to me.

“You’re back,” I said, stroking a thumb across her cheek.

Her hazy eyes focused on mine. A moment later, she seemed to remember where she was. She became aware that her hands were still bound, and that she still had a cock buried firmly in her ass.

“Hurt me,” she whispered.

I let the forbidden speech slide, because I liked what she was saying, and because she still wasn’t quite awake. I also did as she requested, torturing her nipples some more as I held off my orgasm, and giving her a few more resounding spanks. Each slap of pain, each excruciating twist and pinch wound her up more. When she was wild with distress and lust, I drove deep inside her ass and held there.

“I want you to come when I tell you,” I said. “I want to feel you gripping my dick, and I want to hear how good it feels for you. Not yet. Wait for me. When I say.”

I fondled her sex, caressing her clit, tracing over it with all her juices. She was gone in a wonderful way, thrusting and straining at my belt, arching her hips for a harder, deeper invasion.

“Not yet,” I said. “I know you want to come, but you obey me.”

She tried to twist away from my teasing caresses, making frantic noises in her throat.

“Oh, I bet you’re close. Just a moment longer.”

When I thought she might literally expire, I palmed her clit, charmed by the way she bucked up against me. “Come now,” I said. “Remember, I want to feel it. I want to hear it.”

She threw her head back and cried out, kicking her legs through a trembling orgasm. I’d wound her up for my own amusement, but I’d become pretty wound up too, so that when she squeezed around me, the pleasure almost hurt me. I gritted my teeth, not just from the strength of my orgasm, but the fact that I’d reduced her to base animal lust, and she’d surrendered enough to let me do it.

“Fuck,” she said. “Oh, fuck.” She opened her eyes and looked at me, half there and half gone. “May I talk again?”

“Did I say you could talk again?”

She grimaced and squirmed some more, and I kissed her until my dick went soft and she went soft too. Only then did I undo the belt and release her arms. The first thing she did was throw them around my neck.

“Can I talk now?” she asked.

“I wish I had the gag,” I teased. “Your favorite cock gag.” I decided I’d improvise one later, using my own cock. “But yes, okay, starshine. I guess you can talk.”

“I just wanted to say that I love you.” Her lips brushed against my ear. “I missed you. I even missed getting fucked in the ass by you.”

“Because you love getting fucked in the ass,” I said, holding her close.

“I love your roughness. I don’t want that to change.”

I chuckled at her anxious expression. “Based on what just happened, I think we’ll be okay. And you should know that I have a lot of rough and dirty impulses built up inside me. It’s been a week since I’ve had you.”

She started to sit up. “A week’s not that long.”

I shoved her back down against the bedsheets. “You know what’s going to be long? Today. This afternoon. Tonight. Tomorrow. I’m just getting started with you.”

She looked a little nervous, but she mostly looked happy.

“A shower and some room service?” I suggested. “You’re going to need your strength.”

*

I woke to
a slash of sunlight streaming through the dark velvet curtains, and Price’s heavy form strewn across my back. I turned my head to look at the clock. Late morning already. I’d slept like the dead, which made sense, since Price had pretty much killed me with our sexual reunion. Memories flooded back, all the fucking and grappling of the night before.

I groaned and tried to extricate myself from his embrace. He grumbled but let me go. He’d stayed up even later than me, stroking my back and my hair, whispering to me as I drifted off to sleep.
Mine.
That was the gist of what he’d told me, over and over.
You’re mine.
As for me, I’d told him what he needed to hear to soothe his secret, crippling anxieties.
I love you. I need you. You’re perfect, and I adore you just as you are.

I stumbled into the bathroom and dialed the lights down low, and started the shower. I was halfway through brushing my teeth before I looked up and saw the writing on the mirror. Not just writing, but art too, hearts and jewels and a cityscape, and remarkably good likenesses of me and Price. I looked closer at the scarlet and pink lines, and realized he’d done the whole thing in my lipstick. There were three empty tubes on the counter. A poem took up most of the mirror, written in his now-familiar hand.

What you see right now

Is what I see when I dream.

Beautiful diamond, beautiful heart.

Beautiful fighter, and a soul like art.

I was so gripped by his poem, so spellbound by the depth of feeling in those scrawls of lipstick, that I didn’t hear him come into the bathroom. I jumped when he hugged me from behind.

“I’m no world class artist,” he said. “And it still doesn’t fucking rhyme, but I hope you like it.”

I turned and threw my arms around him. “It kind of rhymes. I love it. It’s… Holy crap. I love you.” I clung to his neck and breathed him in as he groped my ass. “You wrote ‘beautiful’ three times.”

“Because you’re beautiful in so many ways. You’re everything in that poem, and so much more.”

His caresses were wonderful, but still not as thrilling as the affection in his voice. “When did you do this?” I asked, letting go of him.

“Last night, while you were sleeping.” He glanced at the empty tubes on the counter. “Sorry about your lipstick. I’ll replace them.”

“Forget the lipstick.” I turned back to his artwork as tears gathered in my eyes. “It’s so lovely, Price. It’s my favorite poem ever.”