“Tell me how it feels.”
Ava struggles to breathe as she squeezes her eyes shut and presses her head back as far as she can dig it into the pillow. I know she’s already on the cusp of something fantastic, but I want to drag it out. The sight of her, however, is hard to resist.
“Tell me how it feels, Ava,” I demand with more authority as I start to fuck her.
“S… so good.” Ava stutters through her words, and I know what she's feeling must be something phenomenal, because it’s usually hard to get Ava to stop talking. “It’s so good, Malcolm.”
My cock slides in and out of Ava’s pussy with such ease, because her pussy is wetter than it’s ever been. It’s like an ocean inside of her, and with every pump I swear there's an actual splash that explodes out of her and wets my stomach.
I use every inch of my cock as I fuck her. My strokes are long and deep, but fast-paced. I feel my lungs burning from the exertion, but being tired doesn't stop me. A real one will fight through the burning of lungs and muscles, and I’m nothing if not a real one.
“Who’s is it, Ava? Tell me who’s pussy this is.”
“Yours! It’s yours Malcolm! Yes, fuck me!”
I do as Ava demands, letting my frustration with her fuel me. My engine is being revved by how annoyed I am by the fact that she’s even here. I let it control me, and fuck Ava like I’m trying to break her. I want her sore after it’s over. I want the memory to stay with her for months.
“Would you like me to let you come?” I ask between deep breaths and long strokes.
“Please! Please let me come. I’m ready to come right now. Oh God!”
“Do it, Ava. You have my permission. Come for me.”
I press the Magic Wand onto Ava’s clit so hard I can feel the vibrations on my cock as I pound in and out of her. Ava’s skin lights up like the red bulbs on a Christmas tree, and in seconds, she lets out a grating scream. The veins in her throat come to life as her body tightens itself and nearly folds her in half from the force of her orgasm. She shakes and rocks beneath me like she’s experiencing the most intense painful pleasure of her life, and the sight of it all reaches deep into me and lifts me to my own orgasm. Both Ava and I howl into the air loud enough to shake the walls, before the two of us collapse into each other.
It takes a moment before the stars in my vision subside, but once they do, and my breathing regulates, I position myself so that my back is against the wooden headboard of my bed.
Ava lays beside me, still gasping for air like she has nearly drowned. Her hair is still tied in its ponytail, but there are loose strands everywhere and the front is hanging over her forehead, where it’s stuck in her sweat.
I take a minute to get myself completely together before clearing my throat. “Ava.”
She swallows hard and lets out an exhilarated sigh. “Mmm. Yes, Dr. Colson?”
“Get out.”
Ava’s eyes pop open as she furrows her brow. “What?”
“Get out,” I repeat with zero concern for her feelings. “Get up, get your clothes, and get out of my house. And don't ever stay in my home without my permission again. If you do, it’ll be the end of us. Do you understand?”
Ava stares at me with a puzzled expression on her face, blinking over and over again. Her eyes dart around the room like she’s looking for answers in the corners, but there are none to be found. The only thing she’ll find here now is my cold shoulder.
It takes a few minutes for her to understand what’s happening, but eventually Ava gets up and grabs her clothes from the floor. I see her keep taking glances over at me while she puts it all back on, hoping I’ll change my mind, but my mind was made up before I ever saw her on her knees.
After five minutes of awkward silence, Ava escapes out of the room with nothing more than a spiteful glare in my direction as she closes the door. When I hear her engine start in the driveway, I sense a feeling in my gut that Ava was more than just upset by me dismissing her, and that could be a problem.
Threatened
8
~ Sean ~
I never claimed to be the world’s hottest person. I don't even try to be. I just want to be me. Just plain old Sean Tillman. Lately, however, I’ve been feeling like maybe Sean Tillman isn't good enough. I don't mean that in a general sense like I’m falling into some sort of dark depression. It’s very specific, actually. Lately, plain old Sean Tillman hasn't been good enough for Rebecca Richmond.
My ride from Bayhealth Hospital is about fifteen minutes going south on Highway One. Becky and I live in a small subdivision called Water’s Edge, and the time it takes for me to get home is just the right amount of time for me to think things through. Again.
It’s been three days since my first session with Dr. Malcolm Colson, and I still don't feel like I can tell anybody that I’m seeking therapy. It’s not that I’m ashamed, but the reason I’m seeing him is just embarrassing. Maybe that means I am ashamed. I don't know, but what I do know is that I will keep seeing him.
Dr. Colson is like the spokesperson for all things sexy. Upon seeing him in the reception area of his office, I was actually taken aback by his presence. He’s a good looking man: tall and masculine with a well-groomed beard. He looks like he’s probably mixed with a couple of different races, because his skin has that exotic tan glow to it and he’s blessed with green eyes. Everything about him seemed right for the job of sex therapist. I know he does relationship therapy more than anything, but the guy has sex written all over him, so when I spoke to him, I felt like he knew what he was talking about and that I needed to listen.
I need Dr. Colson to be right on the money. Things between Becky and I have been a little tense since the last time we had sex the morning I met Dr. Colson. We haven't had sex since then, but it’s not because I haven't been trying, it’s because Becky seems to be not trying. Every time I’ve gotten a little too touchy in the overtly flirtatious way that I do when I want her to know I want sex, Becky backs away.
She’s been using all the cliche excuses lately: too exhausted, headache, sleepy, not in the mood, on or about to start her period, hungry, thirsty, feet hurt, haven't shaved, hands hurt from writing reports at work all day, skin isn't smooth right now, eyes are blurry, ears are sensitive, nails are too long, in need of a haircut. Okay, some of those aren't so cliche, but that only serves to alert me even more. She isn't interested in sex right now, and I can't help but think about how she left the room and slammed the bathroom door behind her last time. I must've really messed it up, and she must be really tired of me messing it up.
I’m only a few minutes from home now, as I see the sign for my exit ahead. I know Becky’s already there preparing dinner or something, and I’m determined to make tonight the night. I haven't forgotten what Dr. Colson told me about continuing to push when I have her on the edge, and I plan to put that into effect tonight. I’m not sure how I didn't think of that myself, but Dr. Colson already started proving his worth with that one.
It makes perfect sense, although I can’t remember why I felt the need to change things in the moment. Becky was obviously right there on the edge, but I changed everything up and she seemed to walk away from the edge with a disgusted look on her face as she left me there breathing hard, wondering what the hell just happened. Next time, it’ll be different. I’ll make sure she goes over head-first.