He seemed surprised. And suspicious. He pulled the sheet off of me, leaving me naked before him. His attention fell first to my breasts, to the pointed nubs that confirmed my arousal. I spread my legs, inviting him to further verify my claims.
He accepted the invitation, dragging his fingers down the length of my slit, landing at my hole, which was drenched and swollen. His eyes flew back to mine. “You really do belong to me, don’t you?”
I nodded. “Yes. I really do.”
He stood and quickly dropped his pants before bending one of my legs up to my chest and settling in the apex of my thighs. “Tell me what you liked about it. Tell me which parts.”
His cock hovered at my entrance, the tip throbbing, begging to come in. I bucked my hips, wanting what he held just out of reach.
But he wouldn’t give it. Not yet. “Tell me, Emily.”
I was needy and on fire, ready to say anything to get him where I wanted him, even the truth. “When you came on my tits.”
He drove in with a single deep thrust. “Yes. What else?”
He held himself above me, inside me now, but not moving. I ground up. He remained still, waiting.
“When you smelled me,” I said.
Finally, he withdrew. Slowly. Too slow. “Even when you found out why?”
“Especially then.”
He plunged back in. “What else.”
“When you shoved your cock in my mouth so far I couldn’t breathe.” I spoke quickly now, the words spilling out of my mouth, knowing they were the key to getting what I wanted.
“Yes.” He pulled out then pushed back in. “Good. Good girl.” He circled inside me, and I groaned. “What else?”
“When you said I belonged to you.” It was almost a whisper, coated in lust and raw vulnerability.
“Aw, fuck, Emily.” His tempo was steady now, each stroke hitting me in exactly the right spot. I was sighing, whimpering, greedy beneath him. “You like remembering it, too, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
He lowered his upper body on top of mine and braced himself with one elbow on the bed next to my head. With his other hand, he stroked my cheek. Sweetly. Tenderly. “I can tell. You’re so tight around me. You’re almost there, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I gasped. I was so close already, and God did I need it. Needed to feel good for just a minute. Even if it wasn’t going to be the mind-blowing sort of orgasm he usually gave me. Even if it was soft and gentle. Even if the aftermath was filled with a fresh surge of survivor guilt. “Yes,” I said again. “I’m there.”
“Good. Because I think you deserve this.” Without warning, he clasped his palm over my mouth and nose. Hard. Letting no air through.
And I knew – I knew – that he was doing it for me, that this was his way of saying he was sorry. Men had done this to me before, usually by choking, but it was the same idea. Breath play. Denying oxygen to the brain, increasing the sense of pleasure.
But I only mostly knew that was what Reeve was doing to me now. Especially after his punishment that afternoon. And the little part of me that didn’t know, it was small. Tiny. Barely even worth considering except that, tiny as it was, it was stark enough in contrast to the rest of me that it was noticeable. It was magnified. Like a single drop of blood on a large white sheet that can’t help but stand out, can’t help but scream for attention. And this tiny part of me that wasn’t sure that Reeve was doing this for pleasure, this part that feared he was doing something malicious instead, it was a spot of red in my otherwise white composure.
I should have learned from earlier, but natural instinct was strong and I panicked. I shook my head back and forth, but he didn’t let go. Didn’t loosen his grip. I struggled and thrashed, wasting my oxygen but unable to stay calm. I brought my hands to his shoulders and dug into him, clawing with my fingernails.
Still, he held me, his eyes locked with mine, and I could see how turned on he was.
Now, I thought, as the fight began to leave me. Now I should be scared. This could be my end. There were certainly reasons that Reeve might want that. Because of what I knew. Because I’d snooped and told lies and had him investigated. Because of Amber. Because he could.
My vision glazed. Black crept in at the edges. My arms twitched and my hands fell from their perch.
All the while, Reeve pounded into me. And my body, not seeming to understand that it was dying, reacted. My core tightened with pressure and my skin tingled with electricity and my pussy clenched around his cock and then I was there. At the pinnacle. At the edge. Out of breath. Ready to burst.
Then Reeve removed his hand. And I did burst.
My orgasm broke from me with a tsunamic force as I frantically tried to draw in air, desperately tried to pull it inside. The needs conflicted – need for release, need for oxygen – my climax winning out, too powerful to be restrained any longer. It crashed over me, demolishing me with plunging waves of rapture, waves that broke every part of me then pulled me under again with a powerful backwash, only to gather me again on another crest of euphoria. My body convulsed with each surge. Spots formed in front of my vision. Tears spilled from my eyes. My head felt like it was falling down, through the bed, like I’d lost all sense of gravity and awareness.
Still I couldn’t catch a breath. I chased it, gasping in between each swell, never quite getting anything in my lungs before the next rush.
And I wondered if I’d die like this. Die flying, soaring, rocketing to heights higher than I’d ever been. Would this be the eternity I’d be allowed to dwell in? In this overwhelming pleasure, so abundant, so consuming, so amplified that there wasn’t room for anything else. No room for fear or doubt or worry or shame or grief. Just this.