Stacy — That's what you said (2)

Stacy — That's what you said (2)
Would he keep fucking me if I collapsed face first? He withdrew from me abruptly, setting me down gently. With effort, I tumbled around on my back, breathing hard as my body continued to shake.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he said, a frustrated mess as he walked back to the bed and pulled open the drawer.

He dug into it and produced the lube, lathering up his dick as he watched me with the eyes of a hunter.

"Must you do this? Can't you let me be nice to you even a little tonight?" he asked, giving me a clear visual of him stroking his dick.

"I want what I want," I said, giggling at his frustration, bending my knees and spreading my legs shamelessly to flash him my pussy.

"Come here and get it then. Can you even move right now, baby? If you make it to my dick before the lube dries, I'll feed it to your ass," he said, challenging me.

He wasn't wrong. He fucked me hard and I was still coming. Nothing worked. His dick looked so tempting though. I got onto my hands and knees and crawled to him.

"Fuck me," he said, licking his lips as he watched me, fisting his dick faster.

"Stop touching," I said possessively, swatting his hand away. "It still has to go back inside me."

I turned around and presented my ass to him. Instead of a dick, he eased a butt plug up my ass, then picked me up and laid me back down on the bed.

He got on top of me and slid his dick back into my pussy.

"This wasn't the deal we made," I complained, but my pussy welcomed having him back inside me.

"Shut up. Just because we agree that we like pain, doesn't mean I'm going to risk giving you a bad fuck. I'll fuck your ass when I'm good and ready," he said, searching my eyes, studying me.

All the fuss he made about how rough we like it and fucking look at him now. This was why I always let him do whatever he wanted to my body. Trusted him completely. He made me feel so safe even on a night like tonight. On some level, he would always be the man in that hotel room in Rome.

"We got engaged today," I said, letting the information wash over me anew, suddenly a vulnerable mess.

He finally wore me down. Got me to want the sweetheart he could be every once in a while. Twenty years from now, I'd remember he loved me enough to insist on making love when we got engaged instead of just fucking all night. Not that there wouldn't be lots of that anyway.

"So we did," he said, beaming down at me victoriously, annoyingly aware that the mood had shifted as he thrusted slowly into me.

I was going to get him to fuck my ass tonight, but this wasn't the moment for that. Desperate just to have him close, I wrapped my limbs around him and let myself enjoy the intimacy of the moment we were having as his lips found mine. Reaffirming his love for me and mine for him, I paid as much attention to him as I could until the inevitable orgasms hit. We both got progressively more worked up after that, but I felt so damn loved it didn't matter how ruthless he became before he finished inside me. A peaceful silence settled between us for the next few minutes as he held me in his arms, just existing with me.

When he spoke again, he was buzzing with excitement as he handed me his camera and said, "I want to see. Show me all the damage you did, baby."

I almost lost it all over again. He needed to see a doctor, at the very least for the bite on his neck. He was so happy though. So at ease with this situation.

You trust me too, don't you baby? We're fucking idiots. Love has made us stupid.

I got on top of and straddled him, raising the camera in the air to take the photos he wanted, then laid down next to him so we could look at them together.

"You're seeing a doctor," I said calmly as he went through the proof of what I did.

Kicking up a fuss wouldn't change anything. It was us against the world. I couldn't change that. Nothing ever would. Even if he fucking bled for me now.

"Shit. So fucking hot. You're such a kinky, little minx," was his retort, completely ignoring what I said.

He set the camera down on the bedside table and slid his arms around me again.

"Scott, say you're seeing a fucking—"

He cut me off with a slow kiss, then pulled away and said, "Do you miss having my dick up your ass, baby? After we share a glass of champagne, we can try. Let's see if I can get my fingers up there, then we'll see about my dick. No promises though."

His attempt to distract me worked. I let it go. No more overthinking. It was the middle of the night. He could see a doctor tomorrow.

You're too in love with me for your own good, Scott Brady.