Breaking the Bully

I’m barely coherent from the magnitude of my climax when Moore starts to rut into me with sharp upward slams of his hips—and he’s so big, it hurts. He’s right at the edge, rigid as steel, no give to his flesh whatsoever.

“Hurts,” I whine.

“So good. So fucking good.” He digs his fingers into my buttocks and holds me steady for the next roll of his hips, the pressure inside me mounting, splitting me in two. “Ahhhh. Shit. You drenched me, Allie. So fucking hot. I’m going to come to hard.”

“You’re too big. It’s too big.”

“What?” I watch him struggle for awareness, his eyes unfocused as he searches my face. “Too big…”

“It hurts.”

Horror wars with lust. “No. No, I’ll stop.” A shudder passes through his big frame and he pants a breath, stopping causing him visible pain. “I’ll pull out.”

“No.” I tighten my legs around his hips. “Just go slow.”

“Slow.” He nods vigorously, laser focused on my face, as if he’s now afraid of breaking me. “You’re sure, baby? You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

I kiss his mouth to reassure him and he groans, melting at my touch, slowly rolling in and out of me from below—and it still hurts, but the discomfort is manageable with his mouth on mine, when I can experience first hand how badly he needs relief, his shaft swollen and rock hard inside of me. It’s an effort to keep the easy pace, the muscles on his neck straining, perspiration breaking out on his forehead. His teeth are bared, animal sounds climbing his throat. But he continues to thrust, rhythmic and measured, our eyes hot on one another. Eventually wet sounds start to fill the air, his flesh milking into mine and he can’t help it, he starts to bounce me, his body in control, not his mind. My body doing the communicating for me by providing moisture, easing his path.

This is new. This is the beginning of experienced sex.

We’re in pace, we know how to reach our peaks now. Can be in control and out of it at the same time. It’s exciting and light snaps in our eyes as we remain focused on one another, Moore smacking me up and down on his lap, his belt buckle jangling below before eventually dropping heavily to the porch floor.

“Allie…” he pushes through his teeth. “There are things I want to do, things I don’t understand, some thing I know I shouldn’t do…”

“Do them.”

His chest flexes hard, eyes closing. And he slaps my bottom, the sound seeming to urge his hips faster, increase the urgency inside of us both. Yes, us both. It’s not the same as being struck by someone in anger. This is chemical, animal, an understanding between a male and a female. It says, I’m doing the fucking.

“Again,” I choke out, gripping his shoulders for purchase. “Again.”

Moore stumbles sideways a step, relieved by my acceptance, visibly turned on to the point of agony, his hips driving so hard and fast now, my back teeth clack together. “Dick tease,” he growls, turning me, impaling me to the door, shaking the wood on its hinges. “You hot, little dick tease. Wanted to cram that virgin hole so bad, you made me come in my pants in class. Lost count how many times. So hard for this good girl cunt, baby. So fucking hot for it. Every second of my life. Now. Forever. You own me, whether you want me or not.”

I’m still reeling from his guttural confessions when his middle finger presses to my rear entrance, teasing inside every so slightly.

“I don’t know why I want to do this so bad.” His erection jerks inside of me, his breath hitching, that finger testing me deeper. I gasp at the odd sensation, trying to decide if I like it. When my hips start working again, meeting his thrusts, I decide I do. Oh wow. Very much. Having his finger there is forbidden, taboo, unexpected and it’s making me so full, turning my sex so sensitive. “Shit, it’s so sweet and small. You showed it off to me earlier, at the lake. Maybe you want it fucked, Allie. Maybe neither one of us knows how bad it needs dick.”

Another orgasm crests over me unexpectedly and my muscles stiffen, legs squeezing around him, bliss collapsing everything inside of me like a house of cards, turning me into a whining ragdoll, my legs barely capable to staying around his hips. But that display of my pleasure seems to ruin Moore and he catapults over the edge, too, hips powering me into the door one final time, his strangled shout echoing in my ear, hot moisture leaving his body and filling mine.

“God, Allie. God.”

We stay like that so long, fit to one another like puzzle pieces, I start to wonder if either one of us is breathing. I’m drowsy, content to remain in his arms, somehow knowing he’ll die to keep me safe, despite the very recent past. And when he finally carries me into the cabin, I acknowledge to myself how dangerous that belief might turn out to be.