Blaine’s presence swamped my awareness, the size of his body, the strength evidenced in the dips and ridges of arms, chest, and abs, and his warning, as if I needed it, that he would claim his ownership rights.
Men were stronger than women. I doubted any woman who came through the collapse was ignorant to this fact. Jodi was the toughest woman I knew, but she was the exception, not the norm.
After we fled our former home, I’d pushed myself to the limits of my physique and had learned how to fight.
But as I lay under Blaine, I understood my weakness.
I understood my vulnerability.
He wasn’t going to stop. It didn’t matter what I said, nor whether I struggled or begged. My lack of control in this situation manifested an unexpected heightening of my arousal. I was so wet, and the obscene sounds seemed to make me twice as wet.
Our combined fingers were rocked from side to side, catching that sensitive bundle deep inside. Something was building, a terrible pressure that didn’t feel quite right, making me fidget under his skilled ministrations.
“Keep fucking still,” he growled, fingers tightening on my throat.
“I can’t. I don’t like it.” I felt like I was going to… pee myself, and despite being absolutely convinced angering him would be a bad idea, acute embarrassment made me fight in earnest.
“Don’t like it?” He increased the movement making me squirm in earnest. “That wet sound is making my dick stone hard. You sure you don’t like it?”
Everything was twisting up. I wanted to come. I was going to come, but there was also a terrible alien pressure. My struggles brought out his dominance. The more I fought, the more determined he became to pin me to the bed and torment me silly.
Somehow I managed to wrest my fingers out, but he replaced my smaller ones with three of his own.
“God! Please stop. I can’t—”
His thumb swiped over my swollen clit, and I came in a heady rush, a gush flooding between my legs that was both intensely pleasurable and shocking. Heat swept over my body; my face felt like it was on fire.
“Fuck, that was hot,” he growled before taking my lips in a drugging kiss. “I need inside you.”
I blinked trying to work out where I was and what the hell I was doing. The bed was soaked underneath me, my breath unsteady, and my body, which should have been sated, hummed with anticipation.
He fumbled in the nightstand drawer, pulling out a tube. I tried not to look at the monster he was slicking up, but my eyes still gravitated there—thick, ruddy, with a thicker bell head.
I drew in a sharp breath. Yeah, that wasn’t going to fit.
Tossing the tube aside, he cupped my cheek and brought my focus to his face. “You’re tight, baby. How long since you had someone inside you?”
“I don’t know—several years.” They were not in the same league as Blaine, and I fought the rising tide of panic.
“Fucking tragedy,” he said. “This perfection should be made to feel pleasure often.” Then he nudged the entrance before sinking the tip slowly inside.
I squirmed, feeling my pussy pulse around the invasion.
I’d experienced pleasure, just not the kind derived via a cock for a long time. I determined correcting him was not in my best interests while I was vulnerable beneath him.
His lips lowered to my throat, gently nipping the flesh between teeth and bringing a full body shiver. My pussy clenched painfully over the tip of his cock. It jerked inside me as he trailed kisses over my throat, and up to the shell of my ear as he sank in another inch.
My pussy fluttered, confused between seeking more of the enticing fullness, and trying to push him out.
“Relax for me, Ava.” He nuzzled the side of my throat, sucking more kisses against the skin. Between the lube and my slick pussy, he sank deeper with an ease that my straining channel did not like.
I tried to relax, but worry mounted, and my pussy locked down tight.
His lips closed over mine, tongue surging in time with the shallow surge and retreat of his cock. Hands roamed everywhere, gliding over my hip, waist, the side of my breast, before lowering again and drawing one knee up and out. He repeated on the other side while I crashed into full-blown panic. With me nearly in two, he thrust deep and stopped.
“God, please!” I planted my palms against his chest and pushed. There was too much of him, my straining muscles quivering to hold open.
“Almost there.” The next thrust and his crotch came flush to mine. “Breathe, baby.” His big hand closed over mine, easing them from his chest. My arms were shaking with the strain of pushing him away, and as soon as he removed them, his cock nudged in another fraction.
He brought my palm against the side of his throat, drawing my focus back to his face, the wild thud of his heart under the pulse point at his throat, and the rough stubble on his jaw.
“Oh god.” My climax hit me out of nowhere. His impossible girth, the totality of his invasion, his scent, and those deep rumbly words were like a potent drug coursing through my veins. I bit my lip, trying to stifle my wild moan.
“So. Fucking. Tight.” Kneeling up, he took my hips in his big hands and drew back, and slammed all the way back in. “Loosen up, babe.”
My mind and body had no idea what to make of this. The heavy thrusts, the slapping of meeting flesh, and the stimulation against my swollen clit. I’d hit a climatic summit, and there was no way back down. He took his pleasure roughly, and I was merely along for the ride.
The visual of his powerful body was a source of stimulation all on its own, lean, corded muscles, the flash of white scarring scattered across his torso, the black tattoos over his shoulders across his pecs, and skimming the right side of his throat. At his temple was the same tattoo used to brand me. The mark of ownership binding us both together held an unexpected beauty. I belonged to him, this man who was as a god in a mortal world, and I, the helpless human he slaked his lusts upon.
As was inevitable, my inner muscles gave under the fierce coupling, and all the while, I pitched into a perpetual free fall. He braced over me, palming my ass so he could pound into me. Burying his face in the crook of my throat, he sucked. My stomach and pussy clenched, sending us both over the cliff.
My throat and pussy throbbed in tandem while his chest heaved against mine. And inside, I felt the hot flood and the rush of adrenaline as he filled me with cum.
I breathed, tried to work out what had just happened, and gave up.
He was half crushing me, yet my hands still roamed his shoulders and back, delighting in the feel of firm flesh and the closeness. It had been so long since I’d felt a man inside me, and the completeness brought an unexpected tightness to my chest.
My breath stuttered, preceding a guttural sob.
It was for the best that I’d enjoyed it, and no more a betrayal of my best friend than if I’d hated it.
But it felt a lot like betrayal, and hot tears spilled.
He pitched to the side, taking me with him, cock still inside me, still partially hard. Our combined cum, and the shaming evidence of pleasure, spilled out, turning the tops of my thighs slippery and further soaking the bedding. He didn’t ask me what was wrong, and I was grateful for that.
How could I even explain when the whole world was wrong? I told myself I was only doing what I needed to survive, but the tears still fell.
Dreamless sleep took me, but only for a short time. It was still dark beyond the window when Blaine roused me, rolling above me and sliding between my parted thighs in a way that reeked of familiar. I hissed a little as he entered, sore muscles protesting at the penetration.