He thrust forward once, filling me to the hilt.
It was so unexpected, so rough that I heard myself whimper as my body jolted at the sudden invasion. My walls stretched around him with a slight burning sensation at the intrusion. His hand slid up my belly and grabbed my breast, squeezing once before taking the nipple between two fingers, pinching, then pulling up hard. The pain was like a tearing, sharp, then throbbing. But just as it coursed through me, his cock withdrew then slammed forward, confusing my overwhelmed body with pleasure and pain at the same moment and making a small moan escape me. Encouraged, his other hand raised and created the same conflict with my other breast as his thrust got fast, frantic, harder.
He fucked me like it was all there was in the world, like he wouldn't want to be doing anything else. His eyes stayed on my face, creating intimacy even with the borderline brutal sex I never thought I would enjoy, his keen eyes taking in every nuance, his ears hearing each uncertain then increasingly delighted sound of pain and pleasure as his cock promised not only another overpowering orgasm, but the kind of ache that I would be feeling for days.
Just as I felt the tight clench that proceeded an orgasm, his cock was out of me. I heard a loud groan and was shocked to realize it came from me. Byron's lips tipped up for a second at it as his hands released my nipples, leaving them feeling achy and swollen from the rough attention. His hands sank into my hips and unceremoniously tossed me onto my stomach, his legs trapping both of mine, his hand pressing hard into the center of my back to stop the motion when I tried to rise up. His cock pressed against me, but didn't penetrate, making the pulsing need build inside and I felt myself wiggle against him, looking for some relief. "Put your arm underneath you and stroke your clit," he demanded, making me blush again. But, thankfully, he couldn't see. I'd never, ever, touched myself in front of a man before. The idea of it made me want to curl up under a blanket and never come out again. But when Byron St. James demanded something like that in his sex-rough voice, was there really any way to deny him? I wasn't sure. All I knew was I couldn't find one. So my hand moved underneath my body and pressed between my legs, finding the sensitive, swollen bud of my clit and moving against it. The contact making me jump slightly and Byron rewarded me with a slight slap to my ass. "You can scream into that pillow all you want. No one will hear you."
And with that, he thrust deep again. He didn't fuck me hard that time, just fast, his cock pushing inside me at a speed that seemed to make it impossible for me to catch my breath as his cock managed to rub over my G-spot as my own fingers brushed my clit, the weight of my body making the pressure intense and the pleasure even more so. Byron's hand slipped beneath me as well to, I thought, help hurry the process of my orgasm. But that wasn't the case. I learned when I lost his hand and felt his thumb press up against my ass, not penetrating, just creating pressure. And I realized he was using my wetness to lube up his finger.
There was something then akin to uncertainty, to the slightest hint of fear.
As if sensing it, Byron's finger started pulsing against my ass as his cock slowed, got softer, sweeter, almost loving inside me. "You said however far I want to take it, babe. But this is always at your tempo," he told me, his voice matching the gentleness in his thrusts. "If it's a limit, say so. If you need time, say it. You need it slow, say that. Got it?"
I swallowed hard, forcing my finger to work my clit again, to get my body to calm down. Because as his finger kept up its pulsating teasing and he moved inside me in a way that made me almost feel emotional, I wasn't sure if it was a limit. I wasn't sure if I needed time. I didn't even know if I needed it slow. All I knew was I needed more of him. I needed whatever he could give me.
"It's okay," I said, my voice a strange croaking imitation of itself.
"Don't placate me," he warned, but given that it was because he was worried I was pressuring myself into something I didn't want, I was okay with his bossiness for a change.
"I'm not. I want to try it," I said, my voice even quieter than it had been before.