Home > The Red(8)

The Red(8)
Author: Tiffany Reisz

"Open wider,” he said and she spread her legs even more for him. She’d never spread this wide before because no lover had ever told her to. Inside she felt her muscles shifting, moving, finding new ways to accommodate the large organ penetrating her. He reached between their joined bodies and wetted his fingertips with their fluids. He massaged the wetness into her clitoris and it swelled instantly at his touch. It would burst if he didn’t stop. She would burst. Her pussy split open wide, the thrumming and throbbing, it was all happening again. A low moan built in the back of her throat. Malcolm rammed her with quick, deep thrusts. She had to hold the headboard to steady herself. The orgasm hit her with blinding force. It was obliterating. Her shoulders rose off the bed while her sex spasmed all around the organ inside her, trying to grip it and hold it in place because at that moment her body wanted him in it more than it had ever wanted anything before in her life. She wanted it, needed it, and if he ever took it out of her she would wither up and die.

Mona collapsed back onto the bed again, sweating and panting. Very slowly, very carefully, Malcolm eased out of her. She winced as he pulled out, tender as she was from his merciless thrusts. She’d never been fucked quite that hard. Then again, no man had ever paid for the privilege of fucking her quite that hard so she couldn’t blame him for wanting to get his money’s worth.

Malcolm lay on his side next to her, propped up on his elbow.

"See?” he said. "You make a marvelous whore.”

"You say that like it’s a compliment.” She talked in a rasping whisper. He’d stolen her breath away.

"It is. It most certainly is a compliment.”

"You didn’t come again?”

His erection pressed against her bare thigh, brutally hard still.

"I wanted to linger in your cunt awhile. I found it quite welcoming.”

"Make yourself at home,” she sighed.

"I intend to.”

She smiled wanly. She could fall asleep right now and not wake up for ten straight hours. That’s how much the sex had taken out of her. Her legs were still open wide because she hadn’t the energy to close them. Semen dripped out of her onto the sheets. It itched and tickled all at the same time. She felt debauched but not debased. She wasn’t sure what the difference was, but there was one, she knew it.

"Lovely, lovely hole,” he said as he put his hand between her legs and stroked her wet inner lips before slipping two fingers inside of her. He poked and prodded around, seeking soft spots and tender spots, sensitive spots that exulted in being touched. "Quite tight. Very hot inside, very wet. Strong muscles. I thought you wouldn’t let me out of there for a moment.”

"I didn’t want to. Right before I came I felt like I’d die if you ever took your cock out of me.”

"You’re not the first girl who’s told me that. I know how to choose my women well.” He smiled. She was starting to like the smile very much. "I likely won’t allow you to climax unless I’m inside you. I prefer it that way.”

Had he been a boyfriend she might have raised an objection. She loved coming from oral alone and often had. Malcolm had taken her to the very edge of orgasm with his tongue but then he’d penetrated her at the last moment.

"If you prefer it that way…” Her voice trailed off.

"Your pleasure is for my pleasure,” he reminded her. "When you come on my cock, I feel it. That’s all there is to it.”

She smiled. "I won’t complain.”

"No, I don’t think you will. You’re too good of a whore for that.”

"You do like your whores, don’t you?” she asked.

"I have trouble respecting a woman who gives away for free what she could sell for good money. Whores are the only women who know their own worth. I mean that.”

"What about male prostitutes?”

"Their clients are generally men as well. I don’t fault anyone who takes a man to the bank before going to bed with him. I wouldn’t let a strange man put his finger in my mouth and whores take far more into their bodies every single night. It’s skilled, brave work. Bless those lasses, they’ve saved my life and damned my soul. What more could I ask for?”

"You’re a strange man.”

"And you…you are a beautiful whore.” He bent his head and kissed her lips. He’d already fucked her twice—his semen was inside her, and his fingertip pressed gently against her cervix—and yet this was their very first kiss. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, not tender, but sensual and warm. He tasted like an old Irish whisky, which she liked, and he knew how to use his tongue, which she loved. He kissed her from her lips to her neck. She murmured a pleased sigh when he took her breast in his hand and squeezed it lightly, then slightly harder.

"I was wondering when you were going to do that,” she said.

"I haven’t fucked in quite a while. Getting in your cunt was my top priority. But these lovely nipples are a close second. Very close.”

He slid on top of her, straddling her at the waist. He pressed her wrists into the bed on either side of her head and held her down. First he licked her right nipple, then licked it again. He licked it like he’d licked her clitoris, long slow passes of his tongue. Her nipple hardened and as soon as it did he sucked it into his mouth. Mona turned her head and watched him suckling at her breast. He was intent on the task, his eyes closed, as he drew the nipple and aureole all the way into his mouth. It wasn’t a comfortable sensation, this intense pulling. He sucked hard and for a long time. She had to remember he was doing this for himself. He’d paid for the privilege of doing what he wanted to her body. And something told her this was merely the tip of the iceberg.

Despite the discomfort, she found herself growing aroused again. Perhaps there was a part of her that responded to being used by a man for his pleasure. She certainly couldn’t stop watching him sucking her nipple. He was latched on tight and he didn’t seem ready to stop any time soon. Blood rushed to her breast. Inside his hot mouth he swirled his tongue around the peak. Her nipple felt hard as a diamond to her. He let it go but only to pinch it between thumb and forefinger, pinch it and pull it and tug it. He released one of her wrists to slap her breast. He struck it with his open hand, not terribly hard, but hard enough to sting, then slapped again a little harder. Another slap followed by a squeeze, more tugging and pulling of her nipple, a pinch, a pull, a tug, and another long, long suckling. She panted, moaned, her head swimming from the riot of sensation. Her breast felt swollen and heavy and so terribly tender.

Without warning he turned his attention to her left breast. He slapped it too, grabbed it and groped it roughly. She cried out when he pinched the nipple painfully hard but right afterward, he put his mouth on it and the sudden shift in sensation had her crying out in pleasure. He sucked the nipple deep into his mouth, sucked and kept sucking until she groaned loudly in the back of her throat. He released it, sat up and back onto her hips and slapped both her breasts with his hands, slapped and grabbed them, slapped and massaged them. Quick pain followed quickly by slow pleasure. She didn’t know what to feel. She accustomed herself to one and then had to immediately get used to another. Was this what her previous lovers had wanted to do to her breasts? Handle them roughly, squeeze and slap them, suck and pull them? Were they all too polite, too well-trained? Is this the way men behaved behind the curtain of civility? Is this what all her lovers would have done had they bought her body with money instead of with charm and the empty promises of love someday, perhaps, maybe?

She rather thought she preferred it on this side of the curtain.

Her nipples were almost purple from how hard he’d suckled them. And her breasts were bright red and burning from the slaps of his hands. He held both breasts in his large hands, held them hard, hard enough to see all those veins she so enjoyed looking at. Pinned beneath him by his weight, she could barely move her hips, but she tried. She wanted him to feel her body begging for his cock.

"Not yet, darling,” he said. "Not quite yet. I’m having far too much fun to stop now.”

He rolled her breasts, molded them against his palms, lifted them and held them. There was nothing of the savage about him, but nothing of the gentleman either. He was simply a man behaving like a man.

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