Tryst

Ransom thrusts against the thin nylon covering my pussy, aligning his steel length with my swell. “You want me to fuck you here?” he whispers against my lips. His finger presses me from behind, and he slowly inserts the tip. “And here?”

Emboldened by his candor, and the image of him filling me from both ends, I nod my head feverishly. “Yes. Please.”

Without removing his finger, he pulls at the ties on each side of my bikini bottoms while I fumble with the drawstring of his shorts. I reach under the waistband and wrap my hand around his thick, hard cock, pulling it between us. It throbs against my belly, the silken skin stretched tight around its impressive size. I stroke it against me, loving his little jerks and twitches. I imagine how it would feel in my mouth. How he would taste when the first drops of pre-release would bead at the head. How hot his seed would be sliding down my throat.

“I want to taste you,” I tell him, as we both watch the way his dick pulses with its own heartbeat.

“I want you to. But you’d drown in here.”

We share a chuckle that’s quickly cut off when Ransom sinks his tongue into my mouth. He kisses me hungrily, fucks my mouth just as he told Tucker to do. But his fucking feels different. It’s hard, desperate, deep. Unapologetic, just like the rest of him. His finger still lodged inside me starts to move just a fraction. It’s slight, almost nonexistent, but with my tightness and the friction of the water, even that tiny movement has me groaning. I stay completely still, fighting the urge to slide back and devour that finger, but I know it’d be too much too soon. Ransom knows what he’s doing, and while I may not fully trust him with my heart, I know I can trust him with my body.

He slips his finger in deeper, just past the nail, and slowly thrusts in and out. My whole body shakes with the feeling and I grip him tighter in my palm in response. We stay like that for what seems like forever—him fingering my puckered tightness deeper, stretching me to take him, and me fisting his cock against my belly.

When he gets his finger in past the knuckle, he shifts, bending at the knees while still holding me up, and thrusts inside me. I cry out in uncontained madness, overwhelmed with the feeling of him fucking me from every angle. Even his tongue keeps in time with the rhythm of his strokes.

The first time with Ransom, I wasn’t allowed to feel. My body felt him—adored him—but I had to keep it superficial. At least that’s what I was supposed to do. But now . . . now I have no other choice but to feel him everywhere—inside me, outside me, throughout me. He sexes my whole being—mind, body, and soul. There is no part of me that is left untouched or unfilled.

My insides quiver when the pressure from behind increases. It burns for a second as my body accepts a second finger, but it isn’t unpleasant. Actually, it feels good. Spectacular. Like Ransom’s cock is everywhere at once. Filling every empty hallow, even the ones he can’t see.

Scalding heat consumes my belly as my womb erupts with the first devastating orgasm. I cry against his lips, biting his tongue hard enough to taste his blood once again. He answers my violence by fucking me impossibly hard before pulling out of my body. I whimper at the loss of fullness, but before I can protest, he’s filling me again, this time in the place where his fingers were just buried to the knuckle.

Tears stream down my face as my body swallows his. His breathing is rapid but he doesn’t rush. He stays completely still, letting my pliant flesh stretch around him. The water is shallow enough in this spot that it doesn’t wash away the remnants of my climax, letting it act as a natural lubricant. Plus with me tilted so only my shoulders touch the rock wall, beads of slick arousal roll down my seam, adding even more wetness.

He pushes in a little deeper, and my voice breaks in a sob. It hurts—my God, it hurts—but he knows well enough not to stop. He knows I can take the pain. He knows I crave the pain. And this is by far dancing the thin line of my threshold. Still, I won’t beg him to stop. Even if it rips me open, I will never let him go.

He pushes in farther still, and this time, it doesn’t burn as bad. Actually, it’s starting to feel ok. He holds me up with one arm wrapped around my waist and brings his other hand to stroke my clit. That, coupled with the intense pressure from behind, makes my whimpers turn to pants. He pinches my sensitive flesh between his fingers, pulling the hot, little button as he pushes in a little more, and I throw my head back. Oh God . . . OhGodOhGodOhGod.

He’s inside me to the root, fully immersed in the one place Tucker refused to explore. He always thought it would hurt me—that the scar tissue in that area would make things painful for me. So after he shot me down again and again, I stopped asking him to touch me there. Instead, I learned how to touch myself, and make it feel good.

This is so beyond what I had been doing. My thin, dainty fingertip was nothing compared to Ransom’s thick hardness inside me so deep, I can feel his sac against my ass cheeks. And nothing ever will compare for as long as I may live. There’s no way I could ever go back to what I had before. I’ve bitten the apple, I’ve sucked the seed, and now I want that sin to grow deep inside me.

He strokes me slow, knowing my body well enough that that’s all I can take. I hang on to his shoulders as he angles us in a way that keeps him thoroughly buried but also lets me taste his tongue. He makes those erotic, little noises again, those throaty rasps that he does on stage to make the girls wet their panties. I swallow every one, wanting every bit of him to live inside me. He smiles against my lips as if he knows exactly what I’m doing.

His tempo increases and he begins to throb within my tight walls, causing my own orgasm to build. This one is different though. This one won’t be like the others. It feels too strong, too uncontained. Like even if he stopped right now and pulled out of me, I’d still come so hard I’d faint.

I grasp his back and bury my head in the crook of his neck, trying desperately not to stop it, but slow it down. I’m not ready to let go. I’m not ready to surrender this feeling for anything.

Despite the madness of our bodies, Ransom’s lips are oddly soft and controlled as they caress the side of my face. He kisses my temple, the shell of my ear, my neck. And then he opens for me and bears his soul. He shows me the beauty in chaos, the grace in all this filth and sin.

He sings for me. He sings because of me. And it’s a song I’ve never heard.

Falling through the rabbit hole

Down down down I go

Let’s go mad together, babe

Nobody has to know

I’ll take you into my veins

Drink the elixir of your soul

You’re mine now little bu