Page 58 of Roped

“Your p-pussy.”

He hums in satisfaction and brushes his knuckles over my clit again. I can’t do it anymore. I close my eyes. It’s too much, too intense. So, so good. I even let my head drop down to his chest. Or at least I try to, but he doesn’t let me. While his one hand is busy down there, he grabs me by the jaw with the other and holds my limp neck up. He leans closer to me, his chest grazing mine as he commands, “Eyes on me, darlin’.”

I don’t want to do it, but they pop open without my say-so and I look into his.

The green in them has disappeared, has become engulfed by the black, and he really looks like a devil in the moment. Pressing his thumb against my jaw, he whispers, “You know I like to watch you, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Could watch you forever, for all eternity,” he says, his words sweet and smooth, “and it still won’t be enough.”

I moan in response.

“So don’t make me miss this, yeah?”

“Miss what?”

“The look in your eyes when you take my filthy finger in your sweet little cunt for the first time.”

Without giving me a chance to catch my breath, he does it. He slides his finger inside me and I gasp against his mouth. He growls against mine. I gasp again when my pussy ripples around his big, big finger, and his growl is louder than last time. For a few seconds, we simply breathe against each other. Then he whispers, resting his forehead against mine, “Knew this too.”

Wordless, I whimper for the hundredth time.

“Tight as fuck. Snug as fuck.” He doesn’t stop. “Mine as fuck.”

My pussy clenches again at his mine, and I go up on my very tippy-toes. My calves are strained and shaking, but I don’t know how to go back to the ground anymore. I don’t know what to do anymore now that I know what it feels like to have his finger inside of me. Something that I’ve been waiting and waiting ages for. Something I thought I’d never have. And he was right when he said, weeks ago, that his fingers are too big for me. His fingers will stretch me out, tear me apart. Make me feel so full that I won’t know how to go back to feeling empty.

How do I leave after this? How can this be the last and the only time?

“Told you, didn’t I?” he murmurs, breaking into my horny, morose thoughts.

I roll my forehead against his, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. “Yes.”

“My fingers are too big for your little pinprick of a hole.”

My hips twist to adjust to his invasion. “H-hurts.”

His eyes flick back and forth between mine. “But you’ll still let me do it, won’t you?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Still gonna keep bein’ sweet for me, my sweet fuckin’ Princess, and let me finger your tight fuckin’ pussy.” His hand on my jaw tightens and he tilts my face up as he shares, “Want you to know, darlin’, that I may be a monster with a rough hand and dirty fingers, but I still know how to treat a pretty girl with soft skin and a princess pussy like you.”

I shake my head. “You’re not—”

He swallows up my words when he brushes my clit with his thumb again. I know he did it on purpose, to shut me up, but I don’t have it in me to be mad about that right now. Because holy shit, that felt good. That felt exquisite. And then he does it again, but this time, he also moves his finger inside of me, pumps it in and out, and I’m a goner. I don’t even care that he’s still stretching me out, that there’s still a sting when he goes in and out of me, because that thumb of his, all scrape-y and expert, moving over my clit as he moves his finger inside of me, is the best thing I’ve ever felt. It’s my whole wide world right now, his working hand and his pumping fingers. His scent, his heat. His hard muscles, his intense eyes.

He whispers softly, “Can feel it.”

I drag my nails along his skin. “What?”

“Your cherry.”

As if to let me know what he means, he somehow brushes against it. I jerk so hard it feels like an orgasm.

“Wanna pop it,” he tells me, his voice almost drunk.

And my gasp is accompanied by a word he doesn’t like. “No.”