Chapter 109 #27: You're Mine, Nora
His mouth crashes back onto mine the second the realization hits us both, and this time there is no hesitation, no careful testing of boundaries. David kisses me like a man who has spent five years starving and finally found the only meal that ever mattered. His tongue slides against mine, demanding, claiming, and I meet him with equal hunger because the truth is I have been starving too.
I fist my hands in his shirt and yank hard enough to hear buttons pop. He growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating through my chest, and shoves me backward until my spine hits the motel wall with a dull thud. The cheap plaster gives slightly under the force. Neither of us cares.
His hands are everywhere at once – sliding up my ribs, cupping my breasts through the thin fabric of my dress, thumbs brushing over my nipples that are already painfully tight. I arch into the touch, gasping against his lips when he pinches just hard enough to make my knees buckle.
“Fuck, Nora,” he mutters in a rough voice. “You still feel the same as before.”
“Shut up and take this off me,” I order, already tugging at his belt.
He laughs darkly, then spins me around so my palms slap flat against the wall. The sudden movement makes me dizzy in the best way. His fingers find the zipper at the back of my dress and drag it down in one slow, deliberate pull, making cool air hit my skin as the fabric parts. He doesn’t bother sliding it off my shoulders yet; instead he presses himself against my back, his hard length grinding into my ass just as his mouth finds the side of my neck.
I tilt my head to give him room, and he bites down on the soft flesh. Teeth sink in, marking me gently, and a loud moan accidentally slips out.
I clamp my mouth shut, stifling my moans. David runs his thumb above my lips and gently parts them.
“Don’t you dare keep that quiet, Doll,” he says, nuzzling my neck. “Let it out for me. I want the neighbours to hear how good I make you feel.”
He kisses me again, deeper this time, but slower, like he has all the time in the world. His hand slides into my hair, fingers curling at the nape of my neck, guiding me backwards. My back hits the door with a soft thud, the vibration traveling straight through me.
“You have no idea how many nights I thought about this,” he says against my skin. “How many times I imagined bending you over the nearest surface and reminding you who you belong to.”
“I belong to myself,” I manage, even as my hips rock back against him.
His hand slides around to the front, fingers dipping beneath the lace of my panties without preamble. He finds me soaked, my clit swollen and ready.
“Say that again,” he orders, circling my core with a slow, torturous pressure.
“I belong–” The word breaks into a sharp gasp when he pushes two fingers inside me without warning.
“And yet...” He curls them, hitting that spot that makes my vision white out for a second. “Here you are dripping for me. You’ve been dripping since the second I kissed you.”
I can’t argue. I don’t want to. Instead I reach back, fumbling for his zipper, desperate to feel him. He lets me struggle for a moment – long enough to make me whimper – then steps back just far enough to shove his pants and boxers down in one rough motion.
The sound of fabric hitting the floor is obscene in the quiet room.
David spins me again, lifts me like I weigh nothing, and pins me against the wall with his hips. My legs wrap around his waist on instinct. The thick head of his cock notches against my entrance, and I clench around nothing, aching for him to fill me.
“Look at me,” he demands.
I force my eyes open. His are almost black, pupils blown wide with want and something much fiercer.
“Tell me what you want,” he commands. I grind against him in reply. He shakes his head. “Use your words, baby girl. I’m not moving until I hear you say it.”
“I want you inside me,” I breathe. “Deep inside me. I want you to not stop until I can’t remember my own name.”
That’s all he needs.
He thrusts in with one brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt. The stretch burns in the best way, and I cry out, nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. He doesn’t give me time to adjust. He pulls out almost completely and slams back in, setting a punishing rhythm that has the cheap headboard banging against the wall in time with our bodies.
Every thrust drives the air from my lungs. Every retreat makes me clench around him, trying to keep him inside. He fucks me like he’s trying to imprint himself on my soul, and God help me, it’s working.
His hand comes up to my throat – not squeezing, just holding, fingers firm against my pulse. The weight of it sends a fresh wave of heat through me.
“You like that, Doll?” he asks, voice gravel. “You want my hand on your neck while I fuck you?”
“Yes.”
“Yes... what?" he asks and tightens his grip just enough that my next breath comes shallow, controlled by him. The restriction makes everything sharper, more intense.
“Yes Sir,” I gasp.
He slams hard into me in response, a punishing stroke that I feel deep in my stomach. My head falls back against the wall and he takes advantage, biting along my collarbone, then lower, sucking a bruise into the upper swell of my breast.
I’m close already... too close... but I don’t want it to end just yet.
“Bed,” I manage. “I want you on top of me. All of you.”
David carries me across the room without pulling out, every step jostling him deeper inside me. When we reach the mattress he drops me onto it, then follows me down, and pins my wrists above my head with one hand.
The other goes back to my throat.
He rolls his hips in a slow, deliberate circle that makes me see stars.
“Beg for it,” he says.
I laugh breathlessly. “You first.”
“I think you forget, Doll, that there are a lot of ways I could punish you,” He pulls all the way out of me until just the hilt remains, his eyes flashing. “Beg for it.”
“Please, Sir” I whisper, giving in because I’m too far gone to play anymore. “Please make me come.”
He growls and obeys, slamming back into me so hard the bedframe creaks beneath us.
His hand tightens on my throat while the other fists my hair, yanking my head back so he can bite the tender skin beneath my ear. He fucks me relentlessly – deep, punishing strokes that hit every sensitive place inside me. The pressure on my neck makes my pulse thunder under his fingers. The pull on my scalp sends sparks down my spine.
I’m shaking, teetering on the edge, when he releases my wrists and slides his hand between us. Two fingers find my clit and rub fast, tight circles.
“Come for me, baby,” he whispers against my neck. “Come on my cock like the good girl you pretend you’re not.”
The command tips me over.
Pleasure explodes through me, white-hot and blinding. I scream his name, my back arching off the mattress, thighs clamping around his hips as wave after wave crashes over me. He doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t slow down, just fucks me through it until I’m sobbing with overstimulation.
When the aftershocks finally ease he pulls out, flips me onto my stomach, and yanks my hips up.
“You’re mine, Nora,” he growls against my ear. “Only mine.”
I barely have time to brace myself before he’s inside me from behind, one hand wrapped around my throat from the back, the other pulling my hair so my spine arches beautifully.
He takes me harder this time, hips snapping against my ass with wet, filthy sounds that fill the room. I push back to meet every thrust, greedy for more, for everything he’ll give me.
His rhythm falters, then grows erratic. I feel him thicken inside me, feel the tension coil in his body and before long, he curses and finally slams home one last time. Heat floods me as he comes with a guttural groan, hips jerking through the aftershocks. I clench around him, milking every drop, until we’re both trembling and spent.
He collapses over me, careful not to crush me completely, forehead pressed to the back of my neck. We stay like that for long minutes, breathing hard, our skin slick with sweat.
Eventually he rolls to the side and pulls me against his chest. His hand strokes lazy circles on my hip while our heartbeats slowly sync.
Suddenly, a phone buzzes on the nightstand. David reaches for it without thinking, thumb swiping the screen to silence it. But he freezes mid-motion, eyes narrowing at whatever he sees.
The shift in him is instant.
His body goes rigid against mine. The hand that was stroking my hip stills completely. He lifts his head, looks down at the phone again, then slowly turns his gaze to me.
Something cold moves through his expression and he ends the call without speaking into it.
Before I can open my mouth to ask what’s wrong, he raises his head up, looks right at me, and very quietly asks, “What the hell did you do?”