Echo(70)

When I finally reach the house, I make my way around the back, but he catches me. His hand locks around my elbow, and when I stumble over my feet, he swings me around to face him and loops his arm around my waist. I cry out when he picks me up, lifting me off the ground.

In a flash, he has my back pressed against the side of the house, his body pinning me to the stone. With him flush against me, both of us panting heavily, I don’t fight him as emotions overflow between us.

He doesn’t speak, and neither do I, and before I know it, without thinking, my arms wrap around his neck. Our eyes are locked, never straying. He rests his forehead against mine, and my heart beats uncontrollably when he moves his hands to my pants. With our heads pressed together, staring into each other’s eyes that reveal the unfamiliar emotions we’re both experiencing, his cold fingers press against my stomach as he unzips my pants. He shoves them down, and I fumble, kicking off my rain boot, and working my one leg out of my pants as he unhooks his slacks.

The foggy vapors from our heavy breaths swim between our mouths, and suddenly, his hands wrap behind my knees, lifting me up. I lock my ankles around him, and the instant I feel the heat of his cock against me, a couple tears escape and fall down my cheeks.

He grips himself in his hand and presses into my folds, wetting his dick as he runs his burning tip through the slick warmth of my *. My arms cling tightly around him when he barely pushes the head of himself inside, teasing me, tugging at my opening. Clenching my thighs around him, a few more tears fall when he finally pushes himself inside of me.

I moan in carnal heat when he buries himself in my body. My heart leaps at the connection that soothes all the friction away. I’m finally pacified and free. I revel in knowing he has the antidote to clean the rot in me. I’m like the angel of martyrdom and he’s the bezoar that purifies.

“Tell me you’re not leaving,” he says on a heavy voice that edges on violence, and I yield to him, saying, “I won’t leave,” because I’d do just about anything for him in this moment to keep his touch.

And with my words, he takes my mouth in a savage kiss as he begins f*cking me with powerful, deep strokes. His eyes blacken in primal lust as he takes me, driving me back against the wall with each of his urgent thrusts. The sounds of my moans mixed with his heady pants fill the air around us.

His body grows rigid when he moves his hand to my throat, wrapping his fingers around my neck in a light choke. He releases a husky growl, and I can feel his cock strengthen and throb inside of me.

“Touch yourself,” he orders, and I obey.

Licking my fingers first, I drag them down to my swollen clit and begin rolling them in soft circles. My eyes swim out of focus as our bodies reunite consensually for the first time in months.

His grip constricts around my throat, depleting the amount of air I’m able to take in, but I don’t panic as my body finds comfort in the familiarity of his tender force during sex.

“Put it inside of you so you can feel me,” he instructs, and I reach down a little further, my neck pushing against his hand as I slip my finger alongside his cock, sinking it in my * at the same time he slams inside of me. I pump my finger in rhythm with him. Touching us in this way, feeling the warmth of our mended bodies, slick in arousal, it’s too much.

“Oh, God,” I mewl loudly as I feel my walls pulse around my finger and his cock.

“Don’t ever walk away from me again,” he scolds.

“Never.”

“You wanna come?”

“Yes,” I strain around the cords of my throat that he continues to hold hostage.

And in his feat of control over me, he orders, “Ask permission.”

“Please.”

My body rises in a fiery storm amidst the nearly freezing temperature.

“Ask!”

“Please,” I repeat in a breathless whimper. “I need it.”

“Don’t do it. Don’t defy me,” he warns, and when I reach the brink, I clamp my thighs to his hips with as much strength as I can to slow him down.

Holding on to my breath, I fight with everything in me to ward off the orgasm that’s about to erupt.

“That’s it,” he delights in his power over me.

But I can’t hold on. Looking in his eyes, I give in, “Can I come? Please, I need it.”

“You want it?” he taunts.

“Yes.”

“Fuck yourself faster,” he instructs, and I do.