Beautiful Agony (A Tale Of Savage Love, Part I) by Dominique D. DuBois Page A

swallowing me whole.  He grabbed my hips unexpectedly and I screamed.  I didn’t even know why.
    “What?” he asked again callously.  “ What ?”
    Of course, I couldn’t answer.  There was simply nothing to say.
    He began slowly rubbing his hands up and down the length of my back then, and I was surprised by the ferocity he was able to communicate through his touch alone.  His fingers weren’t hard, demanding, or insistent.  In fact, they were once again almost gentle .  But they transmitted a raw, primal power – something that radiated out of him and into me, conveying his brutal strength and immeasurable intensity.  Once again, I began to shiver .
    He moved his hands down to my feet, reaching back behind himself and touching my soles, then heels, then ankles.  His rough palms bumped up over my toned calves, then he paused and his fingertips stroked the creases at the backs of my knees.  My heart bega n to double-tap as it pounded wildly against my chest.  I began to have to struggle to breathe , and found myself panting shallowly.
    He dragged his hands up my wide-open thighs, tw isting inwards to touch my hot, wet core , then outwards to touch my ass.  There, he spread me, and I squirmed under his gaze as he studied my most private of all places from top to bottom .
    Releasing me, he reached up and gripped my hips, his fingers digging into me aggressively .  “Mine,” he said with finality as he clenched his hands around my sharp bones and forcefully shook me.  “Mine.”  He’d hardly moved me at all, just jostled me slightly where I crouched, propped atop the pillows.  But it had been like a dog bearing down on a bloody bone , grinding it between its teeth as it warningly waggled its head and growled.  He was putting his stamp on me, as surely as an animal marking its still-warm kill.
    He seemed reluctant to let go of my hips, but finally he did, pushing his hands down along my back, his fingers wrapped around my sides as his thumbs splayed up and grazed across my spine.  At my rib cage, he paused again.  “So tiny,” he said, “so slender.  Why do you stay so thin, so ephemeral?  Are you afraid to simply be ?”  It was rhetorical; he didn’t wait for an answer.
    Moving his palms up further he dove them down and clenched his hands around my breasts.  “So voluptuous, too,” he breathed, “so goddamn fucking ripe.”  Letting go of them slowly, he brought his hands back up, pushing down on me again , smoothing my muscles and flesh as he dug his thumbs potently into my shoulder blades.  Pressing, controlling, bumping across my scapulae and then over onto my collarbone.  Here he kept going up, up, running both of his hands up my arms, paralleling mine.
    Now his body was heavy upon me, his cock pressing against my ass as if it wanted to ram itself inside.  I gulped, fel t my throat bobbing again, as if I was trying to swallow a smooth, warm river-stone, worn satiny by eons of time .  Adam’s right hand closed over mine, held it firmly as I desperately continued to grip the cold metal railing.  His fingers dwarfed mine, his palm hotly enveloping my hand.  I felt so tiny, so petite, so insignificant beneath him.  Moaning, I pressed my ass back up against him before being shocked at my unbidden reaction.  Certainly I w asn’t inviting him to invade me now ?   I wanted him, for certain, but right this instant, anxiety over the unknown was first and foremost in my mind.
    “Mine,” he breathed into my ear as he kept his right hand on m y wrist , anchoring me, and moved his left hand back down to m y throat.  Again, I gulped, feeling my neck trying desperately to move my air against his constricting palm.  He was choking me, controlling the very oxygen I breathed.  I felt the tears on my face from a moment ago, felt his hot, hard staff riding my ass, felt his smooth, rigid chest against my back.  I began to shake uncontrollably.
    Suddenly, I was downright terrified .  I