Midnight Days (White Nights 2)

Something hot and velvety brushes over my clit, making me jerk. I open my eyes and lift my head to look back at him from over my shoulder. He’s rubbing the head of his cock over my clit, massaging in circles with just the right amount of pressure. I bite my lip, fighting the pleasure that already curls in my belly like the lick of a flame. I don’t want to come too soon, but it’s no use. I agreed to be played like an instrument when I kneeled in a submissive position, and Alex will wrench the reactions he wants from my body at his will and pace.

Tonight, he wants me to come fast. Parting my folds with his thumbs, he slides his cock slowly inside. My toes curl from the stretch. The pleasure is different than earlier, but it’s no less intense. He moves with lazy strokes, giving me time to adjust, and when my inner muscles soften around the intrusion, he thrusts deep and fast.

Perspiration beads on his forehead. His powerful chest is magnificently defined in the light of the fire. Deep shadows run over his face and the grooves of his biceps as he grabs my hip in one hand and slips the other between my legs. I want to watch the spectacular show, but when he rolls my clit between his fingers, my body arches with pleasure. My neck can’t support the weight of my head any longer. I drop my face back onto my arm, experiencing the tightening of my muscles with every nerve ending in my body.

I don’t have to tell him when I come. I’m clenching hard around him, every part of me locked in ecstasy. Before the climax has released me from its grip, he’s pulling out, leaving me empty, but not for long. A familiar pressure builds around my back entrance. The orgasm ebbs, leaving my body boneless and supple in the aftermath. That’s the moment he chooses to enter me, using my arousal as lubrication. I take him without difficulty, my ass stretching to accommodate him the way it’s been trained.

This pleasure is different too. It’s darker. It doesn’t come without pain, but the discomfort only fires up my nerve endings anew, turning every inch of me hyper-sensitive to his movements and touch. I dig my nails into the scratchy wool of the rug as he sinks so deep that his groin is cushioned between my cheeks. My breathing is hard and fast, the way I suck air into my lungs uncontrollable. I inhale the smell of wool from the rug and smoke from the fire, every sensory detail imprinting in my mind. My need spikes, my sated body demanding release again.

When he finally starts pumping, my lips part on another soundless gasp. I swallow my moans as he slams into me, rocking my body to a much harsher rhythm. I’m experienced enough in our anal play to take it. I crave it, even. The pain intensifies until it becomes muddled with the pleasure, and I can’t tell if I’m flying or falling. The only awareness left in my consciousness is the extreme need to come.

Orgasming like this is much more powerful. It feels deeper. It lasts longer. When I finally break, a wave of intense pleasure tears through me. Like a violent ocean, it rips me apart, slams me to pieces on the rocks and washes the devastation ashore. My mind is half present and half floating, only partially conscious of Alex still thrusting between my ass cheeks. He says something in Russian, but my mind is too mushy to translate the words. He shoves one last time before he freezes, his taut body locked deep inside mine. Warm liquid fills my insides, bathing my stretched skin and leaving a slight sting.

All my energy depleted, I can only kneel there and let the strange hybrid of pain and pleasure rack me. He leans over me, covering my back with his chest, and kisses my neck. He keeps me warm with his body and asks something—how I’m doing, I think. Unable to scrounge up enough strength to answer him, I let him stroke my side while I pretend I’m safe in the cocoon of his arms. He tells me how well I did, adding more words of praise, but I can only internalize the sensations and another kind of sting that reverberates in my heart.

“Stay,” he says, pressing a kiss to my temple.

I flinch when he pulls out. I must be really tired because despite the fact that I slept all day, my mind is already going hazy again. I barely focus on Alex as he crosses the floor, grabs a box of tissues from the coffee table, and kneels behind me. After cleaning me up, he takes the blanket from the sofa, drapes it around me, and lifts me into his arms.