‘…but don’t worry. You’re going to get what you’ve been begging for first. Painkillers?’
‘In the drawer…top drawer…there’s a bottle of water on the side.’
He got the necessaries and gave them to me to take. He’d also managed to find a pack of condoms, and he shed his boots and trousers while I downed a brace of Nurofen, getting himself rubbered up in double-quick time.
‘Right,’ he said, once I’d put down the water bottle. ‘What’s the best position for getting fucked with a sprained ankle, Foxy? Any ideas?’
I scooted back and put a pillow under the offending joint.
‘This is probably the easiest,’ I said, eating him up with my eyes. Long legs, long arms, long…everything.
He put one knee on the edge of the mattress, striking a manly pose with his chest out and shoulders back.
‘Are you ready for it?’ he said, thrusting his hips forward.
‘I think so.’
He placed himself on his knees between my thighs and fixed his lips to my ear.
‘I bet you are,’ he whispered. One finger descended on the lace strip that covered my pussy and began to stroke it, from bottom to top, slowly. His fingernail tickled my fattening clit. The material was soaked already. Surely it couldn’t take much more.
I knew I couldn’t. I threw back my head and whimpered.
Harder, please.
But I didn’t say it. I didn’t want to give orders. I wanted him to be in charge.
The next thing I felt, through my delirious haze, was something soft and wet, lapping at the sodden fabric. He pushed his tongue into every crevice, getting the lace barrier wetter and wetter, taking it all into his mouth in a bunch then releasing it to tease me some more. I was beginning to hate these knickers. But I was pretty sure he didn’t feel the same way.
‘All right,’ he said at last, hoarse but determined. ‘Tell me if it hurts, OK?’
I caught a breath and stared at him. But he meant my ankle.
He didn’t even take the knickers off to fuck me.
He pushed the gusset aside and slid his cock inside, fast and smooth, and exactly the way I needed it. My unsprained ankle found its way to his shoulder and I lay in a slightly twisted position, my bottom half off the bed, giving him the best angle of penetration I possibly could.
He used that angle to the fullest, thrusting hard, using his fingers to work at my nipples or my clit whenever he wanted to see my face change. He watched me all the way through, so intently that I shut my eyes in the end. I gave myself up to the feeling of helpless ravishment. I was his to take, and he took me.
I don’t know if my ankle hurt or not. I only knew that furtive, needy creep towards climax, letting him build it inside me, helping him stoke my fire with little movements and silent hints. He read me perfectly. He knew what turned me on.
I’d been wrong about him.
When I was so close there was no chance of turning back, I opened my eyes for a peek at him. His sweat-sheened determination helped me over the edge. His utter focus on what he was doing to me would stay with me, helping me through the dark and lonely nights to come.
I fell helplessly into his ownership. That was how it felt, to come with him inside me. Like being owned and known in a way I could never take back.
‘That’s it, that’s it,’ he whispered with a ferocity matched by his thrusts. ‘Got you now.’
Then he came too, his face at once so wild and so vulnerable that it pierced my heart.
He stayed inside me for a while and we just held on to each other, waiting for our bodies to stop falling and our heads to clear.
‘Mm,’ he said, his eyes dazed and half-closed, as he pulled out and flopped beside me. ‘That hit the spot.’ He kissed my ear. ‘How’s your ankle?’
‘Ankle? Oh, yeah.’ I was suddenly aware again of the pain, though it was muted now, and seemed far away.
He was amused. ‘You’d forgotten about it?’