It took her a while to realize what was happening. Probably because nothing in her previous life had prepared her for this, but most likely because it happened so suddenly. The executioner was crushing her against him, and kissing her. Hard lips devouring hers, tongue exploring the cavern of her mouth, his large hands roaming over her body that had all of a sudden gone lax and powerless under his ministrations.
She could only moan softly and clutch him closer when he let go of her lips and trailed along her jaw and neck with his lips and tongue, sucking, licking and nibbling her pulse point. Clear evidence of his arousal was throbbing against her buttocks, hard ridge of his cock straining the front of his trousers.
With Carl it had been about dominance and violence. He had liked to smack her around, kick her and tug her hair, then take her by force. This… This gentleness was new to her, the way the executioner seemed to observe her reactions and find a way to please her instead of rushing for his own gratification.
It felt so good. His strong muscles trembling under her palms, his hot mouth seeking hers, his hands caressing her gently but firmly, kneading her breasts and smoothing over her sides and hips. It felt too good.
Carl had never liked when what he referred as her sin happened. It would happen with him rarely, the burning need at the pit of her stomach which made her core soft and moist. Carl had said that it was wrong, disgusting. That she was making a mess with her slimy excretions.
When the executioner’s hand disappeared under the hem of her skirt and his fingers crept higher she clamped her thighs together.
“I won’t hurt you… Let me…” He whispered, lust and longing burning in his eyes. He pried her thighs apart gently and cupped her, letting his middle finger delve in to her crevice. She could hear the slick sound it made and blushed, turning her gaze away from him, expecting him to throw her on the floor and start ranting what a filthy slut she was.
Instead of rejecting her he started stroking her from down there, finding all those spots Carl had firmly avoided and told her not to touch those as well. She nearly cried out loud when she felt his finger enter her, and instead of pain it brought forth indescribable pleasure.
She moved her hips shyly, trying to find something, anything, but tried to keep back. Women were not supposed to seek pleasure on moments like these. She whimpered when he stopped moving his hand. She could feel his finger in her hot and slick core, but the friction was gone.
The executioner cupped her cheek and turned her face to face with him.
“Do what feels good to you. Move, make a noise, anything. I want to feel and see that you’re alive.”
“But…”
“Hush… Just enjoy. And tell me if I’m doing something wrong.”
“But, oh…”
She felt another finger sliding in and grasped his shoulders. She knew that her nails would leave a mark on his skin, but it was impossible to let go. It was impossible to breathe. It was impossible to stay still when those fingers started pumping back and forth, spreading slickness and rubbing from all the right places. She was falling, falling apart and screaming.
When she regained her bearings and opened her eyes she met the executioner’s smiling face. His fingers left her still throbbing core and he brought them to his lips, licking and sucking them clean.
“You taste so good…”
She felt good. Every inch of her body still tingling warmly, his hands holding her. Strong thighs under her. Something hard lodged between her hip and his pelvis. Suddenly it hit her. This had gone all wrong. He had given her something she didn’t even know that it existed, and had gotten nothing in return.
“Can I… Would you come in to my bed?” Man asked from her, smile gone from his face, replaced by need and insecurity.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but…” She placed a finger over his lips, silencing him.
“Yes.”
He carried her up to the loft and placed her on the mattress carefully, then just stood and stared at her.
“God knows I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t pretend any longer… I have wanted you for so long…” He whispered, then crawled on top of her, claiming her lips to a searing kiss. He started to undress her, opening the laces of her shirt and baring her aching breasts and pebbled nipples. Her back arched involuntarily when his hot mouth locked around one nipple while his fingers worried the other, kneading and pinching just hard enough to ignite the need she had felt earlier.
This wasn’t right, wasn’t right. She wanted to feel his skin under her palms, wanted to give back at least some of the pleasure with what he was tormenting her. She tried to tug off his shirt and let out a frustrated mewl when it wouldn’t budge.
“Wait, wait… Let me help you with that…” The executioner murmured and unbuttoned the offending garment, letting it fall off, and finally granting her hands access to him. He was kneeling between her thighs, his upper body braced above her. She let her hands glide over his hard muscles, in awe of the contrast between his soft skin and coarse hair that grew on his chest and left a narrow trail over his stomach, disappearing under the waistband of his trousers.
Her nails scraped accidentally over his flat nipples and he sucked in a surprised gasp, closing his eyes. She hadn’t even known something could feel so good as it had felt when he had been suckling her breasts, and she wanted to see if it would feel as good for him. She sat up and bent her head, licking one nipple experimentally. He shivered and grasped her hair, urging her to continue, sinking slowly on his back and pulling her on top of him.
She explored his chest with her mouth and fingers, salty taste of his skin making her head swam. She found the spots from where he was ticklish. Found the spots that made him shiver and moan, and buck his hips against her. Found old scars crisscrossing his torso, thin white lines, some wider and jagged from the edges. Crawled lower in an attempt to taste all of him until the waistband of his trousers stopped her progress.
“Come here… Come up here…” He pulled her to his side, out of breath, and buried his face between her breasts. She used that move to her advantage and untied the leather strap that kept his hair tied back.
“Can I take these off?” The executioner asked, his trembling hands going to the laces of his trousers. She narrowed her eyes. Why on earth was he asking? She was more than willing to continue, and wasn’t it after all his right?
“Marie… Can I take these off?” There was a pleading tone in his voice now.
“Yes…” Her own hands joined to his hastily. They couldn’t get his trousers off fast enough. Laces got tangled together in to tight knots that wouldn’t open.
“Take off your skirt, I’ll take care of this…”
He stood up and walked to the small window. Moon hung on the sky, heavy orb of silver light. That light reflected from the snow outside, and outlined his frame for her to see. He was fiddling with the laces, and when he couldn’t get them open he simply tore them apart, shrugging off his trousers.
She threw off her skirt, not caring where it landed, her eyes locked to him when he walked back to her slowly. Sharp pang of fear sliced through her from the sight of him.
Carl had been a big man. Much bigger than what was comfortable for her. And he had enjoyed the pain he could bestow upon her, had lived for those moments when he could shove his rod in to her and make her bleed. The executioner was even bigger than Carl. Thick, veiny cock leaking clear liquid, balls hanging heavy and full as he stood beside the mattress, devouring her with his eyes.
He must have seen the fearful look that flashed in her eyes because he sat on the mattress, instead of rushing between her bent knees. Stroked her belly gently.
“I won’t hurt you…” He whispered, leaning to kiss her.
“But… It always hurts…” She uttered when he released her lips.
“I promise it won’t hurt. Let me show you.”
She wanted to clamp her thighs shut when he crawled on top of her, but his hips kept them apart. His mouth locked around her rosy nipple, his tongue making her momentarily forgot her fear, and suddenly she could feel him sliding inside of her. Slowly, inch by inch until their pelvises rested together and she could feel him throbbing hotly inside of her. And instead of pain she cried out from pleasure.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I confess. I read a harlequin before I wrote this. It was bad and wrong and I'm sorry but I got my punishment. I think it rot my brain.