Trust in Me by Skye Warren

would increase my humiliation. Trunk had made me come, too, back when he’d taken me anally, though it hurt more than felt good when my ass clenched around his thick cock. Even as a child….no, I wouldn’t think about that. Not when Tyler’s hands were on me, in me. I only had this one time, already slipping through my fingers, to replace all of those memories.
    As he pressed a certain spot, I cried out and pushed my hips down hard.
    “Yes,” he said. “Just like that, baby. Take what you need.”
    I did, pushing and moaning in rhythmical gulps of pleasure until I shuddered in his arms. I lay there, sated. Yes, this was what lovers did. Maybe the position was different because of my back, but what he’d done with his hands was all about giving, not taking. Foreign and beautiful, like some Asian scroll I could marvel at but never understand.
    He wasn’t done with me. Though I felt boneless, he propped me up against the headboard so that I faced it and held on. Then he maneuvered his way underneath me so that his head was beneath my cunt. The first touch of his tongue, the first touch of any tongue there, sent a shock through me. It wasn’t even lust at that point. It was like the cool kiss of silk or the warmth of chicken soup. It was everything luxurious and comfortable all at once.
    His tongue touched every part of me as he moaned right along with me. The pressure climbed and held right at the edge, until a firm suck on my clit sent me over. It wasn’t flying. It was like sinking, unable to breathe but not caring at all.
    I wriggled back to life, sure that I needed to get off him, to thank him profusely for what he’d done, probably with my mouth. But his hands clamped down on my thighs, holding me there, and with soft, small licks, he built me up all over again.
    Again and again, he made me come. I was adrift in pleasure, tossed by its waves and drowning down, down, but unable to care. Something tugged me back though, a shudder in the body beneath me, an urgent sound interspersed with the moans of arousal. I glanced back to see him gripping his cock. Not the fist of bringing himself off, but a harsh, tight thing that turned his knuckles white. He was holding his orgasm at bay in a way that had to be painful, just so that I could keep doing this. So that this could be about me and not his pleasure. He knew exactly what I needed. He knew everything.
    I yanked myself off of him. His face was lined with pain, a sight that filled me with guilt and sympathy…and some pleasure. Maybe some of Carlos’s sadism had rubbed off on me, because in that moment it felt just a little bit good that he’d been willing to go through that for me.
    But I had no interest in prolonging his torture. I rolled a condom on his straining cock and straddled him. I rode him in the way that he would enjoy the most and come the fastest. It was working, too. He looked fair to bursting, with veins bulging in his forehead and almost a snarl on his face.
    But he stopped me. “No, no, baby. Let me show you.”
    With his hands on my hips, he moved me differently. He didn’t go as deep or get fucked as well. But the angle—God, the angle. It hit something inside me, something I barely knew I had. Once, twice, I rolled my hips just to hit it again even as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. I felt the wetness spilling down over his cock, my breasts bouncing in time with my movements, but all I could think of was again and more and oh God.
    I came and started up all over again. I could tell he was trying to stay still, trying to let me lead, but he bucked beneath my anyway. Just as I came again, clenching around him, he yanked me down with a roar, holding my body suspended in the air as he pummeled me from below as he came.
    I fell down onto him as he released me.
    “I love you,” he said into my neck. “I love you, Mia.”
    The words struck right at my heart, turning my body cold. It was exactly what I’d asked of him, but I hated it. He