Desperate to Touch

“Keep your eyes on me then,” he speaks calmly as he walks behind me. With one hand stroking himself, I can already see the beads of precum at his velvety head. “How many men did you fuck?” he asks and I blink twice, rapidly.

Hesitating, he urges me to answer with his hand splayed on my lower back. He brings his knuckles up my back to my shoulders and then back down.

“It’s been eight years,” I tell him as if that’s an answer. His erection presses between my folds, thick and hard as he rocks against me. The groan he lets out, fuck, I could cum to that sound any night. He bends down when I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation. With his hips pressing against my ass and his cock nudging my clit, the pleasure builds again.

“Open your eyes,” he commands, his stubble brushing against my shoulder and I watch as he closes his own and kisses the crook of my neck.

I miss this.

I have dreamed of him doing just this for years.

“How many men did you fuck?” he asks me again, this time in a whisper, his warm breath sending shivers of want down my body.

“Many,” I answer him and remember how none of them compared. How at first it was hard trying to find someone who I could hide my past from, but share my present. Then it was simply about trying to find anyone who could fill a portion of the void.

Seth chuckles, deep and rough, his chest vibrating against my back. “You’re my little slut now.” His comment only makes me hotter for him.

“So tell me, my little whore, how many pricks got to play with what’s mine?”

“Not whore,” I argue, barely able to get out the words as I shake my head against the fabric and practically moan my reply. “Slut.” I repeat the word, clenching around nothing again and imagining him inside of me.

“My little slut,” he whispers and the feel of his warm breath along my skin brings the pleasure closer to the surface, closer to igniting all of me.

“How many pricks got to play with what’s mine?”

I stare back at him, unable to answer as he grips my hair at the back of my neck, still rocking his hips, still playing with me. Still wanting me.

I can’t speak as the pleasure builds.

“You’re not allowed to cum until I know how many times to deprive you. I need to know how many times.”

Defiantly, my back arches as my orgasm rips through me.

Seth stills behind me and I clench against the shaft of his cock. It’s a blinding pleasure. I can barely breathe.

“Ever defying me aren’t you, Babygirl?” Seth scolds me, taking more of my hair in his fist and pulling back when I look away from him. The tight grip sends a stinging pain along my skin, but it only heightens the pleasure.

“Does thinking about being punished get you off?” he asks.

“Thinking that you cared who I fucked… that gets me off.” The admission comes out willingly, easily.

Seth King still wants me. He wants me to be his. That realization comes with one of my own. I want to be his. I’ve been waiting to be his again.

Seth

It takes every ounce of control not to cum with her. Her cheeks are flushed, as pink as her ass where the braided marks have left impressions on her skin. She’s everything I remember and more.

The memories don’t do her justice.

Knowing how easy it was to get her off drives me insane. How much she still wants me, enough to let this strong woman, want to be called my little slut… fuck, I could cum without even entering her.

The fire at my back is nothing compared to the crackling air between us.

“How many?” I question her. Ignoring the screaming rage in my head, demanding she be punished for not listening to me. She wasn’t allowed to get off until I’d punished her for each and every one.

“Not enough,” she answers, her eyes closing but the moment I pull back on her hair, just slightly, just enough to control her, her baby blues sink into mine and she adds, “I tried to fuck the memories of you out of me.”

“Did it work?” With the question lingering between us, my heart slams against my chest, racing to get out of me.

“Not even for a single moment,” she whispers, and the pain creeps back into the depths of her gaze. The longing, the need.

I slam into her, my plan, my control, completely gone. I can’t restrain the need to have her, to take her and make her mine like she ought to be in this moment.

Deep inside of her, to the hilt, I watch as her neck arches, her head falling back with a wretched scream of pleasure. Her cunt spasms around my length, the warmth and heat stroking a desire that forces my balls to draw up. I could let go just like this. Gripping her hair, feeling her curves, hearing her screams and buried deep inside her as she orgasms from the forceful thrust.