Perfect Strangers

40

I like him like this, on the outer edge of his control. I like knowing this weird intensity of desire and need is mutual, that he wishes he could manage it but can’t, not really, not enough for us to stay safe.

It’s clear to me that neither of us believes in safety. Not anymore. Not after what life has put us through.

We’re bound by the awful truth that safety is an illusion.

It’s also the thing that, in this moment, sets us both free.

He tears off my panties. Literally tears them, ripping through the lacy material with ease and yanking the shreds out from under me. Then he shoves his face between my thighs and starts to greedily suck on my c**t, reaching up to roughly squeeze my breasts in his big hot hands.

I love it. I love it so much I arch and shudder and reward him with a guttural moan that turns into the shape of his name.

He pinches my n*****s and works his tongue between my legs, driving me higher and higher until I’m pleading with him for release. But he doesn’t give it to me. Instead, he turns his head to my thigh and bites me there, his teeth sinking into my tender flesh with a sting that brands my heart.

“Not yet, beautiful,” he warns, his voice hard. “Not without me inside you.”

I rock my hips, groaning, turning my head restlessly from side to side. “f**k me, then. Hurry. Please.”

That animal noise rumbles through his chest. The one that tells me he loves my reaction, my words, my unapologetic need for what he’s giving me. The mattress dips as he steps onto the floor. I hear him rummage through his clothing, then I hear the rip of foil and know he came prepared this time.

The mattress dips again. James says, “Open your eyes.”

He hovers above me, his hands planted on either side of my head. I glance down and see his erect c**k, sheathed in a condom, bobbing heavily between my spread thighs.

It’s thick and long, much bigger than I’ve had before, but I’m no virginal bride. I know he’ll fit me just right.

I watch in fascination as he fists his c**k in his hand and nudges it against my soaked folds. He slides it up and down until the crown is glistening.

“Look at me.”

When I meet his dark gaze, he growls, “You’re mine until September. Say it.”

I say breathlessly, “Yes. I’m yours until September. I’m all yours.”

With one abrupt flex of his hips, he shoves the entire length of his thick c**k deep inside me.

Crying out, I arch from the mattress. He props himself up on one elbow, fists his hand into my hair, and reaches underneath me with his other hand to grab my ass in a possessive grip.

Into my ear, he commands, “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

I do, trembling all over. He exhales, slowly withdraws until only the crown of his c**k remains inside me, then thrusts again.

He smothers my moan with a kiss, deep and demanding. Then he thrusts again and again, driving hard into my aching wetness.

It’s not gentle. This isn’t lovemaking. This is f*****g, raw and animal and beautiful in it’s urgency.

A single hard contraction inside me makes me break away from his mouth and beg. “James, oh God, James, please, I need to come, please let me come…”

Breathing hard, he slows the motion of his hips until it’s the smallest movement, then he falls still. In a firm voice, he says, “No.”

He bends his head to my breast and draws my hard n****e into the hot, wet heat of his mouth.

Delirious, I writhe beneath him. My skin is on fire. All my muscles are clenched. I rock my hips, grinding my c**t against his pelvis and chasing the burn building in my core. I feel a rush of exhilaration when his d**k twitches in response.

He puts his mouth next to my ear. “Such a bad girl. My beautiful, bad girl. If you don’t stop moving your hips right now, I’ll pull out and spank your ass until it’s so sore you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

I sob in frustration.

I know this is edging thing is a game I agreed to play, but holy f**k am I regretting it.

Falling still, I lie beneath him, panting and trembling, my skin slicked with sweat. He bends his head to my breasts again, lavishing the other n****e with attention, nipping at it and flicking it with his tongue.

I need so badly to move my hips. Instead I bite my lower lip, hard, and remain motionless as James goes back and forth between my throbbing n*****s, sucking and gently biting, testing my flesh with his teeth to see what makes me moan, what makes me gasp.

When I’m about to break down and cry, James whispers, “Perfect. You’re perfect. I love you like this, trying so hard to be good for me even though you have to come so bad.”

“So so bad,” I babble, “so so so bad.”

James says something I can’t understand.

Either I really am delirious and my brain is too enflamed to comprehend the words, or he’s speaking in a language I don’t recognize, something that sounds exotic and masculine, all snarling fricatives with an edge to it like a purr.

For whatever reason, it’s the thing that finally makes me break.

I start to buck my hips, frantically f*****g myself on the hard length of the beautiful c**k buried inside me.

James curses, and that I understand.

“I’m coming! I’m coming! I can’t stop oh God James I can’t stop—”

He thrusts into me and snarls, “Give it to me.”

“Oh f**k oh f**k—”

“Yes, love, give me every f*****g thing you’ve got.”