Looking Inside

His restraint of her arms steadied her, both inside and out. Had he known it would? All the while, he stared down at her, his gleaming eyes piercing her spirit just as surely as his cock did her flesh.

He became so forceful, the antique cataloging table began to heave against the wall. A can of some kind fell, rattling on the tile floor. He never paused. Not until the top of her head began to bump against something behind her. She hardly cared, she was so overwhelmed by the hard, constant pressure of his driving cock.

But apparently he minded.

He abruptly withdrew, making her cry out in surprised protest. Then he was lifting her down from the table and urging her to turn.

“Bend over,” he said behind her. She was highly disoriented. The deprivation of his cock had been cruel. All she could think about was getting him back inside her. When she was too slow to respond, he pushed gently but firmly on her shoulders. “Bend over and brace yourself,” he said. “Eleanor?”

Crack.

She jumped slightly at the sharp sound and the sting on her bottom. He’d spanked her. He drew her slip up deliberately to her waist, fully exposing her ass. He squeezed both her buttocks at once. He spanked her twice more.

“Ooh,” she whimpered, her brain clearing, her hands finding his coat draped over the edge of the table. She bent for him then, presenting herself for his hand. His cock. Anything he wanted to give her. She heard his grunt of satisfaction.

He peeled back one of her ass cheeks and entered her again. Her mouth fell and a harsh moan tore at her throat. He felt huge at this angle. He began thrusting again with deep, firm strokes, their skin slapping together, the sound ringing in her ears in a regular, taut rhythm. She became vaguely aware that she was groaning and whimpering nonstop. As always, he barraged her with sensation.

He paused with his cock embedded in her and his balls pressing hard against her outer sex. He spanked her ass cheek tautly before he reached around her, finding her clit unerringly. She clamped her eyelids shut, her entire body tensing at his touch, her throat vibrating with a groan.

“This is what you get for being so beautiful, Eleanor, so damn sexy . . .” he bit out before he fucked her with short, hard jabs. She had the bizarre, disoriented impression he was trying to push his words into her being . . . to make her believe them.

She exploded like a rocket. Pleasure seized her entire being.

Trey’s harsh voice penetrated her brain.

“Hold steady. Eleanor? Brace yourself,” he demanded, squeezing her elbow with his hand to indicate what he wanted. Orgasm still rippling through her, she managed to stiffen her arms.

He began to move, his thrusts into her even faster and more forceful than before, if that were possible. She gritted her jaw and tightened her muscles, striving to move her hips in a counter-rhythm to his. With only the head of his cock submerged, he paused, her ass molded into his tightly cupped hand.

“Stay still, honey. I’m about to come,” he rasped.

His cock plunged into her, making her gasp. A taut, knocking sound entered her buzzing brain. It was the cabinet striking the wall faster now. She blinked open her eyes, her body rocking to and fro rapidly while his grunts of pleasure rained down on her. He was jerking her hips and ass, serving her pussy to his driving cock. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. His pelvis smacked against her ass. He held her against him, and she felt him swell in her.

A giant shudder went through him and a roar rattled his throat. Her hair stood on end at the thrilling sound.

Then he was thrusting into her again, her body jerked to and fro, and the cabinet rapidly bumped against the wall. Sensation struck her consciousness like bullet fire. And then something really was falling on her, hitting the back of her head, her shoulders and back—

“Shit, oh Jesus— Eleanor?”

Something large had broken loose that was stacked at the back of the table. But the only thing she experienced for a confused second was dread at the sensation of Trey’s cock sliding out of her body.

“No, Trey,” she groaned miserably, blinking open her eyelids. “Just leave it.”

But it was no good. He was next to her now, lifting the wooden frame that had fallen on her while they rocked the cabinet so forcefully. She pushed herself up and stood, feeling her satin slip falling past her hips.

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she assured, touching her back dazedly. The plywood frame hadn’t been all that heavy.

“Let me look.”

She turned slightly. She felt his fingers move along her shoulders and back as he inspected her. “It didn’t break the skin,” he finally said. “I thought it was attached to the wall. It didn’t even rattle like the other stuff piled in front of it did . . . until the end, anyway. It’s a mounted photo or something. Damn,” Trey muttered thickly. “It’s torn. I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” she agreed, still irritated by his abrupt departure from her body and her sudden emptiness. “I hate that stupid thing.”

He glanced at her tensely. “You’re not worried about it? It’s not a rare photo or something?” He heaved the three-foot by three-foot mounted, wood-framed photograph back into its original position against the wall.

She stood and leaned across the cabinet. “Hardly. Don’t worry about it. I told you this wasn’t a collection preservation room. There’s no art or artifacts in here. It was a photo I had done for a display item for the 1960s Sexual Revolution exhibit we had a couple years ago.” She lifted the torn portion of the black-and-white vinyl, making the subject of the photo clear to him. She gave him a wry glance of amusement.