The Fighter's Prize

I’m learning a lot about myself right now.

For instance, it doesn’t matter that I’m fiercely independent or that I’ve attended several marches for women’s rights. Whatever feminine mechanism inside me that is conditioned to submit to the alpha is alive and well and whimpering with lust. He came tonight to win, so he could have me here on this bed afterward. It drove him. And my thighs open automatically, begging for the chance to be his reward.

“Yes, Maxim,” I breathe, pulling down the straps of my dress with shaking hands. Letting his starving eyes feast on my bare breasts. My peaked nipples. “You were amazing tonight, baby. You earned me, didn’t you?”

“Da,” he pants, licking his lips. “Da, Whitney. I keep you now.”

I bite my lip and nod. “I’m your prize.”

For tonight, at least.

Tomorrow I’ll get back to worrying about the whole independence thing.

Sex doesn’t have to mean marriage. Right?

It doesn’t seem to for everyone else.

Maxim sits back a little and drags my dress the rest of the way off, groaning at the flesh he uncovers, my body naked except for a flesh-colored G-string. His lips peel back from his teeth in a growl and he rips it from my body, spitting on my sex angrily. Once, twice. Then he shoves his shorts the rest of the way down, his erection springing free over the waistband.

“Oh my God,” I gasp, trying to scoot away.

It’s huge. It’s huge.

Gripping my knee, he drags me back underneath him. “You will take it.”

“But—”

“I win fight.” Maxim reaches down and guides his enormous shaft through my folds, grunting when he reaches my entrance, frowning as if confused. “You are very small, kotik. This will make you cry?” His Adam’s apple bobs. “I wouldn’t like that.”

A second ago, I was trying to get away.

Now I have an opposing impulse. I want to encourage him.

“Just try and go slow,” I whisper, trailing my fingertips down his cheeks. “Okay?”

“Yes, Whitney.” He urges the round, smooth head of his erection inside of me, then drops his weight to mine. Pinning me, burying his face in my neck. His tape-wrapped hands close around my knees and push them up, back, toward my shoulders and then he slowly sinks home. Slow, yes, but it’s a dogged invasion. He refuses to stop when he hits resistance. He pushes through the barrier of my virginity with a guttural sound, bouncing his hips a little to stretch me, his breath turning to wheezes in my ear. “Oh kotik, is so tight.”

I am astounded by the lack of pain.

Maybe because I was so wet beforehand.

Or maybe because my attraction to Maxim, my eagerness to feel the pleasure I almost reached last night, is overriding everything else. But there’s only a twinge of discomfort.

And then he starts to rock, violent shudders wracking his frame.

A moan breaks from my mouth.

Fire races over my skin. A tickle forms between my thighs.

His sex is reaching a sensitive, undiscovered place inside of me, while simultaneously pressing down on my clit. Teasing it up and back, side to side. “What are you…what is…” I say, making no sense. “Yes.”

“I fuck hard now?” he groans.

“Yes!”

Maxim snarls into action, pumping into me with crude slaps of flesh.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“Feels so good,” he grinds out, his warrior’s body rocking the table beneath us, his mouth moving from my ear to my neck to my throat, sucking every inch of skin that arrives in his path. “Ah, kotik. Am I hurting your little pussy?”

“I love it,” I gasp. “Don’t stop.”

His eyes flash with lust. “You like my cock.”

“Yes.”

An exhale rushes out of him. “I’ve been keeping it for you. I have shown to no one.” He grinds into me, presses his forehead down on mine. “Now you will take good care of it.”

I nod. I’m overcome by the overall effect of him as he bucks within me. His flexing shoulders, the sculpted contours of his back. His fighting shorts are halfway down his buttocks and those thick, round slabs hump up and down eagerly, claiming his prize. And my hands travel there and grip, grip his thrusting ass and marvel at his sheer strength.

There’s something happening inside me. A ship has found its moor.

I’ve been taking care of everyone in my life for so long, making sure my father doesn’t gamble away the grocery money, helping Scout pay for classes and books…

I’m always the one who handles things.

And right now, I don’t have to handle a single thing.

I can just be taken. I can be owned.

This man made sure my problem was solved tonight. He just took care of it. And while I don’t ever want to be helpless or completely dependent on someone else…

I like the idea of being totally helpless while he’s inside me.

I like the idea of him being one hundred percent in charge. The man in my life.