Addiction(10 Dark/Erotic Stories Part1)

Addicted to his touch-5

By the second round, he had flipped me onto my back, pulling me to the edge of the table, my heels braced against his shoulders while he drove into me at an angle that had me seeing white behind my eyes. “Say it,” he said, hips never slowing. “Whose p***y is this?”

“Yours,” I gasped.

“Say it right.”

“This p***y is yours,” I said, voice breaking apart around it, and the way he groaned in response told me that was exactly what he wanted to hear.

When I tried to catch my breath after, my legs trembling, he flipped me back onto my stomach instead, kissing a slow line down my spine — over my shoulder blades, down the dip of my back, until his mouth reached the curve of my ass. He reached for the small bottle he always seemed to have on him now. I tensed the second I realized what he wanted to do.

“Wait—”

“You’ll take it,” he said, not unkind, but not asking either. He pressed a slick finger against me first, working it slow enough that I only whimpered instead of protested outright.

Nothing prepared me for when he actually pushed his d**k in.

I cried out, real pain this time, nails scraping the table as my whole body locked up around him. “It hurts — wait, please—”

“I know,” he said, low, not stopping, just going slower, one hand smoothing down my spine like that would undo any of it. “Breathe. It won’t hurt like this the whole time.”

I didn’t believe him. For the first several strokes it was just the burn, sharp and unfamiliar, my forehead pressed to the table while I tried to breathe through it the way he said. He reached around and found my c**t with his other hand, rubbing slow circles even as he kept working himself deeper, and somewhere between the pain and what his fingers were doing, the two started tangling together into something I didn’t have a name for.

“There it is,” he murmured, feeling something in me change even before I understood it myself. My body was loosening around him bit by bit, the sharp edge of it dulling into a fullness that had my hips pressing back instead of flinching away.

By the time he picked up his pace, I wasn’t fighting it anymore. The pain hadn’t disappeared completely but it had folded into something else, something that had me moaning into my own arm instead of crying out for him to stop. He kept his fingers moving on my c**t the whole time, relentlessly, until I came apart around him with a sound I didn’t recognize as my own, shaking so hard my knees nearly gave out under me.

He followed right after, groaning my name against the back of my neck, both hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks I’d find later in the mirror.

“Clean yourself up,” he said, tucking his shirt back in, voice already back to business as if the last forty minutes hadn’t happened. “You’ve got a 10:30.”

I made it off the table and to my feet, though barely. Every muscle I owned felt used up. I gathered my clothes with shaking hands and half-limped toward the private bathroom off the boardroom, catching my reflection in the dark window glass on the way — hair wrecked, lipstick smeared, walking like I’d aged twenty years in the last hour.