His hand tightened its hold. His fingers bruising. Sharply, I pulled my hip forward away from the heat mere inches from my back. I couldn't help my rebellion - my angry spark of resistance. His hand snaked out to take hold of my thigh and tug. I resisted again. His weigh shifted immediately closer. I pushed. A tangle of limbs wrestled for dominance. A grasp. A push. A tug. Futile. I knew who would win. I struggled anyway. I couldn't make this easy. I refused to obey.
Until suddenly it was over. His weight on top of me. My wrists held firm in one fist. My hair gripped in the other. His hard, thick dick pressed against my abdomen as his legs trailed between my spread thighs. He leaned down to my ear. "Did you think I would let you go?" A light kiss on my cheek. A nip at my ear. The stroke of his tongue on the crease of my lips.
"Say you don't want it," he whispered. "Say you don't need it. Us."
My ragged breathing was his only reply.
"A safe word is your only out." He released my hair. I knew what was coming. I struggled to escape, yet in moments I was bound securely to the solid iron headboard. He pushed the last of the covers off of us as he slid down my body to rest between my thighs. When I realized his intent, my fear leaped. I whimpered and struggled to deny him his way. His arms wrapped under and around my thighs and held me to the bed and him. A kiss and lick to my hip. A bit to the inside of my thigh. "You're already wet. I can smell your desire." He spread my thighs further so that I was bare and exposed. He paused to blatantly explore me with his eyes. "Beautiful." Then he devoured me. His tongue dove between my folds. His lips sucked and teeth grazed my swollen clit. My tears finally broke with his assault. Every shred of pain unfrozen and melting beneath his touch and our passion. My hips bucked in fight against or toward the passion I couldn't explain. I didn't want to feel. I did. My internal struggle. Our emotional battle. The pain I hadn't let myself feel bled freely now. I mentally grasped to find my previous anger and frustration. His touch scattered them both.
His fingers pulled back my heavy, sensitive lips and his tongue fucked my cunt deep and long. Again and again. "Cum, baby. Cum. Let it go. Cum for me. Let me taste you. Let me drink you." My gasps. My groans. My face stained with tears. I couldn't find my way through any of it. My emotions poured through the broken wall of my soul he'd purposely uncovered. Suddenly three fingers filled me, and his tongue lashed my clit. My hips instinctually rose to meet him. He pushed inside me deep, hard, and demanding. Over and over. "Cum, baby." His touch finally ripped the orgasm from me. "Yes, baby. Cum for me." My harsh, endless cry accompanied the gushing wet strokes he refused to slow. He licked at my dripping pussy. His cheeks, chin, and lips covered in my sugar. "Again. I want more. Let it go. Let it all out." Within moments, the pounding of his fingers sent another helpless wave of pleasure rocketing through me. My orgasm soaking his chest, his arms.
My tears continued to fall. I could no longer think. I simply existed in the emotional and physical riot that was us. He rose up and kissed me deep and sure. I licked at his lips, sucked at his tongue, tasting myself. Losing myself further and further in us. "I'll fix it. I'll make it all go away," he whisper as he kissed and licked at my salty tears. "I won't let you hurt anymore." He slowly, so fucking slowly, fed his hard thick dick into me. "I'll make it better, baby." When he was embedded into me so deep I panted, he reach above us and unbound my wrists. His arms arms surrounded me. I clung to him. When he pulled slowly out, my nails dug into his skin in instinctual refusal. Poised with his head at my entrance, he whispered, "Say it. Say it, baby."
He waited. Straining. My body begged. I simply needed. And I finally let go.
With a broken, harsh cry, "Please..."
He instantly drove into my heat. His dick pumped me long and hard. "Please..." I whisper. "Yes..." I cried. My cunt was filled with his consuming strokes. Hard and harder. Faster. "You're mine. I won't let you fucking go." The walls of my pussy clenched his demanding shaft. My nails raked down his back. His hand held me so tightly, bruises bloomed. Our punishing strokes met violently. With a shout he drove into me one final time. We exploded. My cries echoed him. His hot thick nut spurted endlessly inside my pulsing flesh. My cum drenched his shaft and tight balls. His hold on me tightened. His embrace shattered the last wall I held in place. As, he leaned his forehead on mine and clenched me to him, through my tears and sobs I heard him whisper over and over again, "Your mine. Your mine, baby." He cooed to me, he kissed away my tears, and he gently stroked the shell of my ear. Until finally, I found peace. Peace in his arms. Peace in us.
~A Battle Weary Lioness
**********
While this fantasy is about a determined lover fighting through me to get to my heart, it is also more than that. In nearly 40 years, I've a never had a man I called my own fight for me. Always, when I love a man, he has other obligations, duties, and ties. Inevitably, I am simply the casualty to those other demanding and needy priorities. I long for a lover who willingly stands beside me - to defend me, to protect me, to shield me as I would him. Funny how a strong woman is put to the test, and the weak, helpless one coddled and protected. Again, it seems my biggest asset is also my greatest weakness. I wish I could put down my shield and spear - in fact I've tried, but that only ever leaves me defenseless against the next assault. I don't know. I just don't know.
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