Sext(21)

"Tell me how this feels," Zayne added. "I want to hear it all from you. Every sensation."

"The lube is cold," I murmured. "Starting to get hotter … "

In the shower, remembering this, I slide my finger between my pussy lips  and begin to move it faster, pressing against the entrance of my pussy.

"Your finger feels thick, hard." He pushed against my ass, and I gasped  faintly as the pressure built. "It hurts, it feels strained … "

"That will pass when I'm deep enough inside you," he promised.

His finger pushed past my opening with a popping sensation and slid half an inch into my ass.

"Fuck," I gasped between gritted teeth.

"Tell me," he commanded, and I could feel the hard press of his cock,  growing harder with every moment, as he pushed his finger deeper still.

"It …  You feel … " I shook my head.

"Relax, Clove. Breathe."

I forced myself to let my muscles go, to sink back against him. His  finger slid deeper, probing the depths of my ass. He curled it inside  me, and the pressure increased, but with it, something else. A deep,  pleasant, filled sensation. "It feels like you're deeper inside me than  you've ever been," I murmured, trying to describe it. "As though you're  claiming the deepest parts of me."

He leaned down, so his mouth was close beside my cheek, his breath hot  against my ear. "Because I am, Clove. I'm taking all of you tonight."

Another pleasant quiver raced through me, and I arched my back as he  drew his finger back, then pressed it deeper again. It wasn't like being  fucked in the pussy. It felt more intense, less sheer pleasure and more  pleasant ache. When he drew his finger out of me, I gasped in protest.  But he was only adding more lube, and then pressing his finger into me  again, joined by a second one this time. I moaned out loud when he  pushed the second finger into me, knuckle-deep.

"You love feeling my fingers in your ass, don't you, my little slut?" He  grinned, turned to lick and suck at my neck, and I arched my neck to  the side to let him, to give him access to whatever part of me he  wanted.

In the shower, I push two fingers into my pussy, rock against the palm  of my hand until it grinds against my clit, and lean on the shower wall  for support as I finger-fuck myself, remembering Zayne's possessive  growl of pleasure as he pushed his fingers into my ass, claimed every  inch of me for his own.

"Fuck, Zayne," I gasped, and that turned into a louder cry of protest as  he pulled those fingers out of me. But the protest didn't last long,  because a moment later, I felt the head of his cock pressed against my  entrance, already wrapped in a condom, harder than ever, and doused in a  healthy helping of the cool lube.         

     



 

This time, when he pushed inside me, I couldn't help crying out loud. He  was thicker than his fingers, and harder, the steel at the core of his  shaft intense and thick with pressure as he inched his cock into me. He  moved slowly, a few centimeters at a time, letting me adjust to his  width the whole time. But with each inch deeper he moved, the stretch  increased, and so did the pleasure. When his balls touched my pussy  lips, and his hips ground into mine and he'd fully entered my ass, I  felt fuller than I ever had in my life. I felt stuffed to the brim,  ready to burst, speared on his length, and I couldn't get enough of it. I  wriggled back against him, ground my hips into his as I groaned, unable  to articulate the pleasure anymore, unable to explain anything, because  all I knew was that I wanted more of this, more of him.

"Fuck, you feel amazing, Clove," he murmured, the character broken. I  looked over my shoulder and he kissed me, deep, probing, his tongue  exploring my mouth the way his cock explored my ass.

"Take me," I gasped when we parted, and he did. He slid back out of me,  then pushed back in, slow at first, rocking gently against me to let my  ass adjust to the sensation, grow used to his cock probing deep inside  me. Finally, he worked his way up to fucking my ass fully, and I leaned  forward against the carpet, braced on my forearms, my face buried in the  rug as I cried out. I was so loud it barely muffled me, but Zayne was  just as loud, groaning as he slammed into me, losing control, his hands  wrapped tight around my hips as he fucked me so hard I knew I wouldn't  be able to walk straight the next day.

I still couldn't. If I clenched my ass now, I could feel him inside me,  the memory of his cock inside my ass. I did it again, felt that  bone-deep ache even as I continued to fuck myself with my fingers,  leaning into the hot stream of water.

I come hard, gasping to myself in the shower, letting the pleasure wash  through me. I hope on its way through it will wash away some of these  memories, stop letting them control me, so I can focus and ask Zayne  everything I need to know tonight, instead of just wanting to jump his  bones the second I see him again.

I finish and wash myself off, though I still don't feel clean by the  time I climb out of the shower again. I think it will be hard to feel  clean again, not for a long time. Not until I can get all of these dirty  memories of the weekend out of my head. Which at the moment feels like  it might be never. How could I forget the hottest weekend of my life?

I dress in jeans and a blouse-casual but not totally lazy. I still want  to look hot. Mostly because I want him to regret what he's missing out  on. But still.

My doorbell rings at 10:02pm. Got to give him that, he's prompt.

I answer it and freeze on the threshold, stunned by the size of the bouquet he's holding.

"Zayne … " I start, but he's already handing it to me. It's a mixed  bouquet, made of white flowers dotted here and there with colorful  roses, a mix like I've never seen before. It smells amazing, and the  moment I accept the vase, my whole apartment seems to brighten with the  color of the flowers. Still. That's just one small gesture.

But I can't deny that it loosens the tight knot in my chest somewhat.

"Come in," I call over my shoulder with a sigh as I set the vase down on  my kitchen counter. The jerk is winning me over already and I'll bet he  knows it, cocky bastard. I keep my gaze on the flowers as he shuts the  door behind him.

"Clove, I just want to say how sorry I am for all of this. You were right."

I turn to look at him now, and am surprised to find his eyes over-bright, fixed on mine with an expression of pleading in them.

"I should have told you about all of this from the start. I should have  let you know it was a possibility. And I definitely shouldn't have asked  you for that selfie, not when I knew this could happen. It's just, it's  been years since this has happened, so I thought it was over, I thought  we were done with this goddamn dance now."

"Dance?" I raise an eyebrow.

He shakes his head. "Something I used to say with …  With her." He  grimaces. "You were right about that too. I should have just told you  the truth when you asked me, in the café earlier today. I just …  I didn't  want to admit to it. I thought you'd judge me, especially since … " He  shakes his head again, harder. "No. No more excuses." He swallows hard,  with what looks like real effort, and meets my eye again. "Remember when  you asked me why I'm still single?"

I nod. Of course I do. "You acted really strange about it," I point out.         

     



 

He laughs faintly, with no real humor behind it. "Well, because it's a  really strange situation. I was …  I was dating someone a few years ago.  We were together for three years. At first I was really into her, she  seemed so attentive, so nice and caring. But things got …  Strange. The  longer it went on, the more red flags popped up. I realized that things  weren't working out, and I tried to end it."

"Tried?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Well. I did end it. Two and a half years ago. But she didn't …  She didn't accept it."

"What do you mean?" I lean against the counter. The scent of the flowers  catches in my nose again, and I sigh faintly, distracted by the  pleasant smell.

"She started following me everywhere. To my old job, to home. Any time I  went out with anyone else, even just friends, she'd get their phone  numbers and call them, harass them, try to get them to tell her who I  was with and what I was doing. She was even worse to anyone I was  dating. After the first few dates, when she stole the girls' phone  numbers and wrote them on bathroom walls, I cut off all contact with  her. Changed my phone number, left my old job, hell, I even moved."

My eyebrows rise, if possible, even higher. "You changed jobs and moved because of her?"

"Not exactly because of her, really. I'd been thinking of making changes  in my life. I was dragging my feet before, delaying because it scared  me. Her creepy behavior just gave me the final push I needed to get out  of my routine and change things up. But … " He sighs and gazes at the  flowers with a forlorn expression.