These Thorn Kisses (St. Mary’s Rebels 3)

My hands fly to his face, sweaty and tight. “I want it too. I want it. And I did. I kept it for you. I wouldn’t let anyone take it.”

“Yeah?” He skims his lips over mine and I suck on them like hard candy.

I nod, letting go of his lips with a pop. “Yes. Only you. Only my thorn.”

Finally he drops down on me and whispers in my ear, “Yeah, you kept your pussy all rosy and pure for me. Locked up tight against all those horny bastards who given the chance would pound you seven ways to Sunday even if you didn’t want it. Because you’re mine, aren’t you? Because you’re made for me.”

I’m so delirious right now that I nod again.

Wordlessly.

And then he goes over to my ear, licks my earlobe as he whispers, “I’m sorry, Bronwyn. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I want to tell him that I’m not mad at him anymore. That yes, I wanted to talk about his lying but I don’t now.

Now all I want is him.

But he disappears. He takes himself away from me.

Only for a second though.

Before I can even blink my eyes open and think of forming some coherent words, he’s here and I can feel the tip of his cock, nudging my opening.

Suspended on his elbows, he bends down and places a soft kiss on my lips, whispering, “My wallflower.”

And enters.

He slams his cock inside of me and I arch my back. And I swear to God, I come again.

My channel pulses around the one thing it’s always wanted, him. And I guess one thing he’s always wanted is me as well because he groans and drops completely down on my body.

My thorn.

Cradling my face, he tucks his head in the crook of my neck, hugging me, his lips breathing and shushing me. As his dick is all lodged inside my creamy, formerly virgin pussy.

That for being so recently virgin, is behaving so… gustily.

I’m not sure if it’s the fact that I’ve orgasmed so many times tonight that my pussy is all lubed up and open. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m still coming around his length.

But I don’t feel the pain.

Yes, there’s pressure. And there’s fullness. So much of it. But I’ve craved it for so long, I’ve ached for it for so, so long that I don’t mind it. I don’t mind feeling full or stretched out.

In fact I like it. I like that he’s jammed up inside of me, that my core is full of him like my heart.

So I move.

Because I don’t need him to stop. I don’t need him to shush me or make me feel better. I already do, with him inside me.

I tell him that by moving under him, arching and writhing. And he looks up.

Making my heart twist.

His eyes are drugged, his pupils dark and blown up. His features are dark too, tight and straining. There’s a dotting of sweat on his forehead, from holding himself back I think. Even if I did feel any pain, it would be gone now in the face of his care and his struggle.

“Bronwyn, stop mo…” he trails off, his words slurred.

It’s okay.

He doesn’t need to talk. I’ll take care of him.

So I smile like the flower I am.

His wallflower.

And cupping his cheek, I whisper, “My thorn.”

His eyes hone in on my smile then. His body hones in on my movements and he goes alert.

He comes alive over my twisting body and on my fifth or so movement, he moves with me. And I gasp, gripping his waist and inching up my thighs even more.

So I’m more open for him.

So he can take me. He can take whatever he wants.

All of my juices. My nectar.

All my love.

And he does take it all.

At first, he’s up there, watching me, his jaw all tight and his hair in his eyes. His sweaty muscles rippling over me, moving and sliding like his cock inside my pussy. But then after a few strokes, he comes for my rosy mouth and picks up speed. He establishes a fast rhythm and begins to really move. Really pound my pussy, really making me feel him.

Again, I wait for the pain but there’s only pleasure.

As if when our bodies are joined, everything is right with the world. Everything is smooth and soft. Everything is roses. When we are like this, kissing and touching each other, all the pain, all the torment is gone.

It’s like a dream.

Our dream.

So all there is in this dream is pleasure and him and his lovely thorn kisses.

And he keeps giving them to me even when his hips are slamming into mine. Even when I can hear the slapslapslap of the flesh. The chinkchinkchink of my belly chain.

Suddenly all of this comes to a halt when he jerks over me, his entire body going rigid.