The shower turned on with a violent twist of the knob. Too hot, but I barely flinched as the water cleaned his scent from my skin. Lavender body wash foamed between my thighs, bubbles catching on tender flesh. I hissed when my fingers brushed the raw spot inside, he'd split me a little, the sting mixing perversely with the heat coiling low in my belly. The mirror fogged over, but not before I caught my own blown pupils, lips still parted around silent pants.
Work passed in a blur of poured beers and forced smiles. My bar apron hid the fingerprint bruises on my hips, but nothing could mask the way I jumped whenever the door jingled. Between orders, I caught myself staring at the exit, half-expecting his broad shoulders to fill the frame.
The apartment buzzer hadn't rung since Monday. Through the fisheye lens each evening, I'd watched Johnny stride past 3F without slowing, polished boots, tailored slacks, never so much as a glance at my door. Once, he paused to adjust his cufflinks directly under the peephole, his wedding band catching the hall light as he smoothed his tie. My knuckles whitened on the doorknob, breath fogging the tiny glass. He knew I was watching.
Thursday's storm made the buzzer's shriek more violent than usual, I spilled coffee down my sweatshirt. The peephole showed Johnny's shoulders blocking the emergency exit sign, raindrops beading in his stubble. His knuckle hovered an inch from the wood. "Delivery," he drawled, shaking a liquor store bag slick with rain.
I opened the door on the chain. "Didn't order anything." My voice cracked.
Johnny smirked, rainwater dripping from his hair onto the liquor store bag. His wedding band gleamed when he shook it. "Scotch for the lady who moans through walls." The chain rattled as he leaned in, his cologne cutting through the damp wool scent of his coat. "Unless you'd rather I drink alone."
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening on the doorframe. The bag crinkled as it swung between us, the amber bottle inside catching the hallway light. Three days of pretending I hadn't been pressing against the shared wall listening for his footsteps, three nights of showering too long while imagining his hands replacing the water.
The chain snapped free with a metallic ping before I'd decided to unfasten it. Johnny shouldered through the gap like he owned the threshold, his soaked coat sleeve brushing my collarbone as he kicked the door shut behind him. My back hit the wall with enough force to knock a framed photo askew. "Never leave me standing out there that long again," he growled, his palm slamming flat beside my head. Rainwater dripped from his hair onto my forehead, each drop tracing the same path his cum had days prior.
The liquor bag hit the floor with a thud. Johnny's free hand yanked my sweatshirt collar aside, exposing the fading love bite above my pulse point. His tongue swiped over it in one rough stroke, tasting rainwater and my lavender body wash. "Still wearing my mark," he murmured against damp skin. His knee forced my thighs apart, denim grinding against my pajama shorts. Through the thin fabric, I could feel him hardening again.
The storm outside made the windows rattle. Johnny used the noise to mask the way his teeth scraped my earlobe. "Took you three days to unlock the door," he breathed, fingers twisting in my hair. "Three days I spent listening to you shower." His hips rolled forward, proving he wasn't lying. My gasp fogged the wall behind him. "Heard those little sighs when your fingers slipped between your legs."
Rainwater dripped from his coat onto the floorboards. I should've pushed him away, should've screamed, but my hips arched into his instead. His laugh vibrated through my ribcage. "That's it," he murmured, dragging his nose along my jugular. "Show me how much you missed this."
His lips crashed against mine before I could answer, the kiss less about passion than possession. Johnny didn't tease, his tongue thrust between my teeth like he owned the space, licking the roof of my mouth with rough precision. The taste of scotch and rainwater flooded my senses, his stubble scraping my chin raw as he angled my head back against the wall.
I whimpered when his teeth caught my lower lip, the sharp sting making my knees buckle. Johnny hauled me upright by my hair, his free hand sliding under my sweatshirt to palm my bare breast. "Still no bra," he rasped against my mouth, pinching my nipple hard enough to make me gasp into his kiss. "Were you hoping I'd come by?"
His tongue thrust deeper, stealing my breath along with any chance at denial. The kiss tasted like rainwater and recklessness, his stubble scraping my chin raw as he worked my mouth open wider. I clutched at his soaked shirt, fingernails digging into shoulders that flexed under wet cotton. Some distant part of my brain registered the storm still raging outside, rain hammering the fire escape like fingertips drumming a desperate rhythm.
Johnny broke the kiss with a wet sound, his hands already twisting in my sweatshirt hem. "This," he growled against my lips, "is in my way." The fabric ripped upward without ceremony, catching under my arms before tearing free completely. Cool air rushed across my bare skin, pebbling my nipples instantly. He tossed the ruined garment aside with a flick of his wrist, his gaze darkening as it raked down my torso. "Better."
My arms instinctively crossed over my chest, but Johnny caught my wrists mid-motion, pinning them against the wall above my head. His thumbs dug into my pulse points as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. "Don't hide from me," he murmured, his knee pressing higher between my thighs. The denim burned against my inner thigh through the thin pajama shorts. "Not after the way you swallowed me whole last time."
His teeth grazed my earlobe as his free hand trailed down my ribs, fingertips skating over goosebumps. The contrast between his calloused touch and the storm-chilled air made me shiver. Johnny chuckled darkly, his palm flattening against my stomach. "Still ticklish here," he observed, dragging his nails lightly upward just to watch me squirm. The sensation bordered on painful, my oversensitive skin protesting every scrape.
His grip on my wrists tightened suddenly, forcing me onto my knees with brutal efficiency. The hardwood bit into my kneecaps, but the sting barely registered over the pounding of my pulse in my ears. Johnny loomed above me, rainwater dripping from his jaw onto my upturned face. "Take it out," he commanded, voice graveled with whiskey and intent. His thumb brushed my lower lip, pressing down hard enough to make my teeth dig into the soft flesh inside my mouth. "Unless you forgot how that talented little tongue works?"
My fingers trembled against his belt buckle, the cold metal slick with storm moisture. The leather slid free with a hiss, his zipper parting to reveal the thick outline beneath thin cotton. He exhaled sharply when I pressed my cheek against the straining fabric, inhaling the mingled scents of rain, musk, and that damned expensive cologne. "Slow," he warned as I hooked my thumbs in his waistband. The elastic snapped back against his hips when I dragged both boxers and pants down in one motion.
His cock sprang free, hot and heavy against my chin. The head glistened with precum, a pearl droplet catching on my lower lip when he nudged forward. I licked it away instinctively, salt and something darker, like the whiskey he'd sipped while watching me undress. Johnny's fingers tangled in my ponytail, not pulling yet, just holding. A silent threat. "Open," he murmured, tapping the leaking tip against my closed lips. "Wider."
The first inch burned my throat before I could prepare. He groaned, hips jerking forward, forcing another thick inch past my gag reflex. Tears welled instantly, blurring my vision of his clenched jaw, the veins standing out on his forearm where he gripped my hair. "That's it," he praised darkly, rocking shallowly as I choked. "Just like you practiced on your dildo last night." The words sent a bolt of humiliation straight to my clit, how the fuck did he know? My moan vibrated around him, earning a sharper thrust.
Rain lashed the windows as he set a brutal pace, using my throat with single-minded focus. My nails scraped his thighs, unsure whether I was trying to pull him closer or push him away. Spit dripped onto my collarbones, mixing with the rainwater still clinging to his abdomen. He pulled out suddenly, letting me gasp before slamming back in deep. "Sue never sucks me," he panted, thumb wiping away a tear track. "Won't have my cum anywhere near her mouth" His laugh was bitter as he twisted my ponytail tighter. "Bet you'd lick it off the floor."
The words shouldn't have sent heat pulsing through me. Shouldn't have made my cunt clench around nothing. His grip tightened when I whimpered, reading my betrayal better than I could. "Thought so," he murmured, dragging his cockhead through the mess on my chin. "Filthy little slut"
Then he hauled me up by my ponytail like a ragdoll, scalp screaming as my knees left the hardwood flooring. My shriek turned into a guttural moan when he shoved me face-first against the hallway wall, one hand pinning my wrists behind my back while the other tore at my pajama bottoms. The bottoms fell down my legs, exposing the backs of my thighs glistening with my arousal. His chuckle gusted against my neck. "Fuck, you're dripping."
His fingers dug into my hip as he steered me stumbling toward the bedroom, my toes catching on discarded clothes. Every step made my pulse jump, half-terror, half-anticipation, because he wasn't asking. He was hunting. The dresser drawer squealed open under his rough yank, and his breath hitched at the neat row of silicone gleaming under the lamplight. "Which one?" His teeth scraped my earlobe as his free hand trailed over the collection. "The purple one you rode last Tuesday? Or the knotted one that made you scream through the walls?"
I swallowed hard, my throat still raw from earlier. He already knew. The bastard always knew. His chuckle vibrated through my ribs as he bypassed the toys entirely, fingers closing around cold metal tucked behind them. Handcuffs. My breath caught. Not fuzzy pink ones from some novelty store, but serious steel that clicked ominously as he dangled them before my eyes. "What do we have here?" he asked, snapping one bracelet around my wrist before I could protest. The other cuff clamped around the bedframe with a finality that made my stomach drop.
"Found these when my boys replaced your flooring last month," Johnny murmured, leaning close enough that his stubble scraped my cheek. His knee forced my thighs apart as he positioned himself behind me, the denim of his jeans rough against my bare skin. "Kept imagining you in them ever since." The admission sent an electric jolt straight to my core. How many times had he watched me through the peephole while picturing this exact scenario? The thought should've terrified me. Instead, my hips pressed back instinctively, earning a sharp smack that left my ass stinging.
The second cuff clicked shut with a sound like a gun's safety disengaging. Johnny's fingers traced the tender skin beneath the metal, testing the give. "Two minutes," he breathed against my shoulder blade. "That's how long you lasted touching yourself last Thursday." His teeth grazed my pulse point. "Bet I can make you come faster."
The cuffs weren't tight enough to chafe but left no room for twisting. Exactly like his grip on my ponytail last time. I tested them anyway, the bedframe rattling. His laugh gusted across my shoulder blades. "Try harder, sweetheart." A denim-clad knee nudged my thighs wider. "This is what you wanted when you bought these, isn't it?" The accusation dripped with knowing amusement. My traitorous clit throbbed in answer.
He traced the cuff's interior with one fingertip, following the faint imprint where my wrist had strained on Tuesday, when I'd locked them to the headboard to test the mechanism, alone, imagining rougher hands. My pulse jumped under his touch. Johnny made a considering noise in his throat. "Used these more than once," he murmured, not a question. The mattress dipped as he leaned over me, his belt buckle scraping my inner thigh. "Bet you came fast. Bet you needed lube after." His teeth grazed my earlobe. "Bet you whispered my name."
The truth burned worse than the metal against my skin. He'd seen me through the wall again, watched me fumble with the key afterward, probably timed it. His fingers slid between my legs, slick gathering instantly on his knuckles. "Still wet for me," he observed, holding up glistening fingers to the light. The bastard smirked when I turned my head away. "Don't lie now." He smeared it across my lips. "Tastes different when it's for me, doesn't it?"
I bit his finger. He laughed, low and dark, before grabbing my chin. "That mouth." His thumb pressed down on my tongue. "Always fighting even when your cunt's dripping." The slap came sudden, stinging heat across my ass cheek, then his palm rubbed the hurt into a different kind of heat. My moan broke halfway.
The handcuff chain jingled as he stretched my arms higher above my head, secured them to the bedpost with a carabiner I hadn't noticed before. "Better," he murmured, running two fingers along my straining bicep. "Now you stay." His boot nudged my legs wider. The denim seam scraped inner thighs still tender from last time.
I twisted against the restraints. The movement lifted my ribs, made my nipples brush against the cold air. His nostrils flared. "Still pretending?" He unhooked his belt slow, watching my pupils track the leather sliding through loops. "I know how often you touch yourself when it rains." The belt folded double in his fist. "Three times Tuesday. Twice with your left hand because the right was texting Sue about neighborhood watch."
The first lash stole my breath. The second found the same spot before the welt could rise. Pain blurred into something thicker when his knee pressed my thighs apart. "You came to the sound of our shower running," he continued, belt trailing down my sternum. "Thought about my soap dripping off your tits." The leather tip flicked a nipple. My back arched off the mattress. "Didn't you?"
Denim rasped against my inner thighs as he knelt between my legs. I tasted copper where my teeth sank into my lip. His belt buckle clinked against the bedframe. "Lie." The word slithered under my skin. His thumb parted me, dragging through wetness that shone under bedside lamplight. "Your body always tells the truth."
The first slap landed with precision, stinging heat across my clit that made my hips jerk against his restraining knee. My gasp bounced off the walls. His chuckle followed, humid against my neck as he licked the pulse rabbiting beneath my skin. "One," he counted, tapping the belt against my inner thigh.
Rain lashed the windows in time with his rhythm. Second strike, lower now, the leather catching tender flesh just shy of my entrance. My shriek dissolved into a whimper as his fingers replaced the belt, swirling through fresh arousal beading along the welts. "Two." His teeth grazed my earlobe. "Remember how loud you were last Thursday? Microwave beeping at 2:37AM?"
The third strike overlapped with my moan, the pain-pleasure blur making my vision strobe. Johnny exhaled sharply through his nose when my thighs clamped around his wrist. "Fuck, you're dripping." His wedding band gleamed as he smeared my wetness across his lips. "Sue would faint if she knew how much you love this."
Thunder rattled the windows. The storm mirrored the way his free hand tangled in my hair, forcing my head back to expose my throat. "Tell me why you left your curtains open last night" His teeth scraped my jugular. I whimpered, remembering how I'd touched myself watching him take out the trash, how my fingers had sped up when he'd glanced toward my window.
The belt hissed through air again, this time diagonally across both thighs, igniting nerve endings I didn't know could burn and throb simultaneously. My knees jerked apart instinctively, offering myself like some pagan sacrifice. Johnny's knuckles whitened where he gripped the leather. "Four." His voice cracked. "You came so hard your neighbors banged on the ceiling."
Rain sheeted against the windows, warping his reflection in the glass as he circled me. I tracked him by sound, the creak of floorboards, the clink of his belt buckle grazing the hardwood. His palm landed between my shoulder blades, pressing me flat against the mattress. Cold air rushed over my welted skin. "Five." The strike landed lower, right where thigh met ass, the pain so sharp my scream came out silent.
Johnny exhaled through his nose like a bull. His wedding band gleamed when he reached around to smear my wetness across the fresh welt. The sting made me jerk, but his other hand pinned my hips down. "Did you count?" His breath scalded my ear. I shook my head. Mistake.
The belt wrapped around my throat. Not tight, just enough pressure to feel each ridge when I swallowed. "Should've paid attention," he murmured, dragging the leather slowly downward until it caught on my nipple. His knee nudged my legs wider. "Now we start over."
Then his phone buzzed, that same goddamn default ringtone, right as the belt tightened fractionally. Johnny froze.
The mattress shifted as he reached for his jeans pocket without loosening his grip. A glance at the screen. His jaw clenched. "Stay." The end of the belt fell onto the pillow, one end still wrapped around my neck.
I heard his boots crunch broken glass from last night's wine bottle near the door. His pause was long enough for my pulse to throb in the marks he'd left. Then the deadbolt clicked. Not goodbye. Never goodbye. Just the unspoken promise vibrating in the air between my shoulder blades, that he'd smell his come on me when he returned.
The handcuff's teeth bit deeper into my wrist with every shift against the headboard. The metal had gone from cold to skin-warm where my trapped hand kept flexing, testing the limits like some pathetic animal gnawing at a trap. Feeling the belt's indentation circling my throat, sticky with sweat and something darker. Across the room, the mirror showed my sprawl, hips still angled toward the door he'd exited, knees parted like they'd forgotten how to close.
Outside, thunder rumbled low and threatening. The kind that vibrates in your molars before you hear it. Rain began tattooing the fire escape, each drop popping against the metal like tiny detonations. I counted them. Seven Mississippi between flashes and booms. The storm built slowly, the way Johnny's fingers had built pressure around my windpipe earlier, gradual until suddenly it was everything.
Fatigue dragged me under despite the handcuff's bite. I dreamed of teeth, his on my inner thigh, mine on his wedding band as he forced it against my tongue. Then pain. Sudden, white-hot, radiating from my clit up through my pelvis like lightning grounding itself. My back arched off the mattress before I was fully conscious, a strangled scream tearing loose.
"Wakey wakey." Johnny's voice dripped amusement as his fingers rubbed the stinging flesh he'd just slapped. The bedside lamp haloed his silhouette, one knee on the mattress, jeans opened, watching my thighs quiver with aftershocks. His thumb pressed against my swollen clit, rolling it roughly as my hips jerked. "Storm's almost overhead. Perfect timing."
Rain lashed the windows harder now, wind whistling through the fire escape gaps. Johnny's teeth gleamed when lightning flashed. "Took you long enough," I murmured, palm cracking down again. The pain arced through me like the electricity fracturing the sky outside. My wrists twisted in the cuffs, the metal biting fresh bruises as I arched off the bed. "Easy now," he chided, catching a tear on his knuckle. "You don't want to get me angry, while you're all tied up"
The belt around my neck tightened when I gasped. His forearm flexed against my windpipe, pressing just enough to make colours dance at the edges of my vision. "Do you?" His thumb traced my jugular, feeling the frantic pulse beneath. I shook my head, the leather creaking with the motion. Lightning flashed again, illuminating the welts crisscrossing my thighs. Johnny chuckled darkly, pulling the belt taut between his hands. "Good girl."
Rain hammered the glass in sheets now, drowning out everything but his breathing and the rustle of denim as he knelt between my spread legs. The cold snap of leather against inner thigh jerked a scream from my raw throat. My hips bucked involuntarily, seeking friction even as pain radiated outward. Johnny's grin turned wolfish. "Knew you'd like that."
His fingers dug into my hipbone, tilting me toward the bedside lamp's harsh glow. The drawer screeched open, metal on metal, before he emerged with a thick silicone glistening in the stormlight. "Recognize this?" The ridges caught on my clit when he dragged it downward, slow as Sunday traffic. My breath hitched. Of course I knew it. The purple one with the crooked suction cup base that never stuck properly to tiles.
Lightning flashed as he pushed in without warning. The stretch burned differently than his cock, colder, unyielding, the molded veins pressing places he'd never reached. "Count," Johnny demanded, snapping his wrist to punctuate each thrust. The numbers died in my throat when he twisted it sharply, the bulbous head catching that sweet spot with clinical precision. Rain lashed the windows in time with his punishing rhythm, three shallow strokes followed by one brutal plunge that made my toes curl against the headboard.
"Still tight after all this?" He chuckled darkly, angling the toy upward while his free hand palmed my throat. The silicone squeaked obscenely, wet with my betrayal. My hips bucked involuntarily, chasing the sensation despite myself. Johnny rewarded the movement by dragging his teeth along my shoulder. "Good girl," he murmured, thumb finding my clit as the storm reached a fever pitch outside. "Now cum for me like the desperate little slut you are."
The dildo hit that spot again, the one that made stars explode behind my eyelids, and I shattered. My orgasm ripped through me violently, back arching off the bed as lightning illuminated the room in strobe-like flashes. Johnny watched with detached fascination, twisting the toy inside me to prolong the spasms until they bordered on painful. "Beautiful," he breathed, dragging it out slowly to watch my body cling to the silicone. "Now tell me who owns this cunt."
Before I could catch my breath, he shoved it back in hard, my own wetness easing the way despite how my muscles trembled from overstimulation. The ridges scraped sensitive walls as he worked it with mechanical precision, his free hand pinching my nipple sharply. "Say it." Another brutal thrust. My hips jerked uncontrollably, torn between escaping the intensity and chasing the mounting pressure. "Yours," I gasped, nails scraping the sheets. "Always yours."
He twisted the toy abruptly, the bulbous head catching on that internal sweet spot with terrifying accuracy. A sob tore from my throat as another climax built impossibly fast, my body betraying me by clenching greedily around the intrusion. Thunder rattled the windows when he leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. "Louder. Let the storm hear who you belong to." His teeth sank into my shoulder as he pistoned the toy faster, turning pleasure into something sharp and punishing.
Rain lashed against the bedroom windows in time with his thrusts, each streak of lightning revealing the cruel tilt of his mouth. The dildo glistened when he pulled it out completely, tapping the swollen head against my throbbing clit. "Beg properly," he commanded, circling the oversensitive nub just hard enough to make my thighs shake. I choked out a plea, the words dissolving into a scream as he slammed it home again, my vision whiting out as the second orgasm ripped through me like live wire.
"Yours!" I sobbed, arching off the mattress as he twisted the toy deeper. "Yours, yours, God please..." The protest died in my throat when he added a finger, stretching me obscenely wide around the dildo. My hips jerked in helpless counterpoint, torn between escaping the overwhelming stretch and grinding down onto his hand. Johnny watched with clinical detachment, adjusting angles until my next cry hit a shattered octave. "You'll take what I give you," he murmured, crooking his fingers to press against that spongy inner wall. "And you'll fucking thank me for it."
Lightning flashed, illuminating the sweat-damp hollow of his throat as he leaned down. His teeth grazed my earlobe. "Stop please I beg," he mocked in a high-pitched whimper, perfectly mimicking my earlier pleas. The humiliation burned hotter than the stretch. My thighs trembled where they were splayed over his shoulders, toes curling involuntarily as he began a ruthless rhythm, three shallow thrusts with the toy, one brutal curl of his fingers. The pattern left me gasping, oversensitive nerves alight with conflicting signals of pleasure-pain-pleasure.
"No I can't take it I cry," he taunted again, this time punctuating each word with a sharp twist of the toy's base. Tears streamed unchecked down my temples, pooling in my ears. The storm outside reached a crescendo as he added a second finger alongside the silicone, the stretch bordering on unbearable. My scream merged with thunder. "There's my good girl," Johnny crooned, watching my abdominal muscles flutter wildly. His free hand palmed my throat, not squeezing, just resting in silent threat as I sobbed through another forced climax.
Then, abruptly, he withdrew. The sudden emptiness left me gasping, hands still pinned above my head where he'd restrained them with the cuffs. Released now, my arms flopped bonelessly to the mattress like overcooked noodles. Every muscle trembled in post-orgasmic rebellion. Johnny chuckled darkly, wiping his fingers on my inner thigh, deliberately smearing fluids across skin already sticky with sweat and earlier releases. "Look at you," he murmured, tracing the pucker of my abused hole with a single fingertip. "Still clenching for me."
I barely registered the command before his palm connected sharply with my left bum cheek. The sting radiated outward in concentric circles, merging with the throbbing ache between my legs. "Turn over," he ordered, nudging my hip with his knee. When my exhausted limbs failed to respond quickly enough, he grasped my waist and flipped me like a damn pancake. The rough handling sent fresh tremors through my oversensitive body. Face pressed into the damp sheets, I instinctively tried to rise onto my elbows, only for Johnny's broad hand to plant firmly between my shoulder blades, pinning me flat.
His thumb circled my asshole with clinical precision, the calloused pad catching slightly on the rim. "Christ," he breathed, applying just enough pressure to make me squirm. "Still twitching from earlier." The observation shouldn't have sent heat flooding back into my cheeks, but my traitorous body arched into his touch anyway. He rewarded the movement by spitting directly onto my exposed hole, the warm wetness shocking against air-cooled skin. Before I could process the indignity, his thumb breached me shallowly, not enough to stretch, just enough to make my entire body stiffen in protest.
I opened my mouth to tell him to stop, but only a hoarse whimper emerged. My limbs felt heavy, muscles exhausted from consecutive orgasms and sustained restraint. Even breathing required conscious effort now, each inhale stirring the scent of sex and sweat soaked into the mattress beneath me. Johnny chuckled at my feeble attempt at resistance, twisting his thumb just enough to make my toes curl. "That's it," he murmured, adding a second digit with obscene ease. The stretch burned raw from tightness. My hips jerked involuntarily, caught between pushing back onto his fingers and fleeing the sensation entirely.
The squelch of wet fingers withdrawing made me shudder. Cool air rushed over my exposed hole before being replaced instantly by something hotter, thicker, the blunt pressure of his cockhead nudging against virgin territory. My protest dissolved into a broken gasp as he pushed in without ceremony, splitting me wide on a single relentless thrust. Pain spiderwebbed up my spine, white-hot and consuming, but he didn't pause, didn't stop until his hips met the backs of my thighs with a damp slap.
I clawed at the sheets, tears landing on the bed sheets. "No..." The word shattered into a guttural moan as he pulled back and snapped forward again, carving a brutal rhythm my body had no choice but to accommodate. My throat burned raw from screaming, though I couldn't remember when the sounds had started. Johnny's breath came in ragged bursts against my shoulder blades, his fingers digging into my hip hard enough to leave crescent-shaped bruises. "Take it," he growled, punctuating each syllable with a punishing thrust that shoved the breath from my lungs. "You fucking take it."
The pain crested into something else when his thumb found my clit, rough circles timed to his hip movements. My traitorous body arched back into him, a whimper escaping as pleasure coiled tight beneath the hurt. "There she is," Johnny murmured against my nape, teeth scraping the tendon. His free hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back with the belt to expose my throat. "Knew you'd love getting fucked like a cheap whore." The words shouldn't have sent a fresh pulse of wetness between my legs. Shouldn't have made my inner muscles clench around his invading length. But they did, oh god, they did.
Tears blurred my vision when he shifted angles, that thick ridge inside me brushing something that made my thighs tremble. "No..." I gasped, fingers scrabbling at the sheets as pleasure detonated white-hot behind my eyelids. Johnny chuckled darkly, adjusting his grip on the belt to drive into the spot again with cruel precision. "Uh-uh, baby," he growled, nipping at my shoulder. "Don't lie to me now." His palm cracked against my ass cheek, the sting radiating outward as my cry dissolved into a moan. The bastard timed the next slap to his thrust, impact and penetration syncing perfectly to short-circuit coherent thought.
My orgasm hit like a freight train, back bowing as his name tore from my throat. Johnny swore through clenched teeth, hips stuttering as my spasms milked him deeper. "Fucking take it," he rasped, burying himself to the hilt as his release flooded me hot and thick. The sensation, being filled, claimed, marked, sent aftershocks rippling through me long after his cock stopped pulsing.
He withdrew with a wet sound that made my cheeks burn hotter than the belt still cinched around my neck. Warmth trickled down my inner thigh before I even registered the loss of him, his cum leaking from my abused hole in mortifying rivulets. The mattress shifted as Johnny stood, his shadow falling across me where I lay trembling. My reflection in the dresser mirror showed the wreckage: flushed skin, bite marks purpling along my shoulders. And between my thighs, glistening evidence of how thoroughly he'd used me.
Cold air kissed my spine when the belt finally slithered free. I gasped at the sudden lightness, like surfacing from deep water, just as the leather whispered against my hip. Johnny draped it there with deliberate care, a mockery of tenderness that made my pulse stutter. His knuckles brushed my lower back as he reached for his discarded jeans. "Stay," he murmured, though I hadn't moved. Hadn't breathed. His zipper rasped shut inches from my ear, the sound somehow more intimate than the sex.
The mattress groaned when he sat to pull on his boots. Methodical. Unhurried. Like he owned the space between my sheets as thoroughly as he'd owned my body moments ago. My thighs stuck together with drying sweat and other things I refused to name. "Spare key," he said suddenly, fingers snapping open my nightstand drawer before I could protest. The little brass key glinted between his fingers, the one my landlord insisted I keep for emergencies. Johnny twirled it once, twice, watching my face. "I'll be keeping this."
His lips found my neck before I could form words. Not the bruising bites from earlier, but something softer. Lingering. The contrast made my pulse rabbit, gentleness after devastation. He inhaled sharply against my damp skin, nose tracing the shell of my ear. "Smell like me now," he murmured, more to himself than me. His wedding band pressed cold between my shoulder blades where he braced himself.
Exhaustion hit like a wrecking ball. My limbs felt exhausted, barely mine anymore. The mattress dipped as he shifted, one hand sliding beneath my hips to adjust the pillow beneath my head. The gesture felt obscenely tender after what we'd done. My eyelids fluttered, too heavy to fight. Across the room, the radiator hissed like a reproach.
His lips brushed my pulse point, soft, slow, almost apologetic, before trailing upward to suck gently at the hinge of my jaw. Every nerve ending still thrummed, hyperaware. His stubble burned where it scraped my throat. "That's it," he murmured against my damp skin. "Sleep." The command slithered into my bones. A thumb smoothed my eyebrow, impossibly gentle. The contrast made my breath hitch.
I blinked up at him, eyelids sandbag-heavy. His silhouette blurred against the bedside lamp's halo. The scent of sex and bergamot clung to his shirt when he leaned down one final time, mouth hovering near my ear. "Don't move." A whisper. A warning. His teeth grazed my earlobe, sharp punctuation. Then warmth vanished as he stood, watching his silhouette disappear through the doorway then hearing the latch click as he left the flat.