The White Queen (S.Rogers)

Chapter 37

Brooklyn gasped, feeling the pressure he was exerting against her. She felt her body shifting, opening, but it wasn't exactly... pleasant. It wasn't on the level of say...taking a bullet, but it certainly wasn't like being hit with a pillow.

He was between her legs, his hand holding his cock, pressing it into her. The head was forging into her, and while it was actually relieving the ache that only he seemed to be able to create in her, it was also causing another type of ache. She wanted to pull away, she wanted to push him away, but at the same time, she didn't want to stop. She wanted to pull him closer, wrap herself around him, have him sink into her, and never leave.

Doing this was going to be the final link, she figured. The final link in the chain they had been forging around each other. Tying each other together, until no one could rip them apart. By doing this, she would own him fully. He would be hers, and no one else's. Granted, his claim that it would also mean that she belonged to him would also be true. His claim that this was going to change everything, was true as well. He was already not shy about laying claim to her, so she wasn't sure what was going to be different about that. But the rest of it? She was curious to see if he would follow through. If when he did get a whiff of her need, he would service her, make her cum for him.

He grunted, cursing through his teeth, easing back for a moment. "Dammit."

"What?" She asked, frowning.

"I need you to pull your legs up." He sat back on his knees, rubbing the back of her thighs. He helped her, pushing them up, bending them, spreading her wide open. "There we go, there's that pretty pussy."
He reached down, rubbing at her clit again, and she hissed at his strong touch. She let her hips buck up, pressing into his touch. Reaching down, she grabbed her legs, under her knees, holding herself open. She was going to take that damned cock of his. She had been begging for it, for weeks now. She was tired of him holding out on her.

"Yeah, that's beautiful, Babydoll." He muttered, looking down to where he had begun to press his cock in, again. "Abso-fucking-lutely beautiful."

"Steve..." She wheezed, feeling the pressure building, before it began to ease, but the new feeling of fullness began. In and in and in, until she was sure she was going to split wide open. "Too much..."

"No, Babydoll." He shook his head, his teeth gritting. "You can take it. I know you can. Because you were made for me, weren't you, Brooklyn?"

His hand landed on her knee, pressing it closer to her chest. His hips were pressing, his stomach going concave, a slow insistent pressure, filling her, the ache replaced by the discomfort. His back was arching, his head falling, pressing his cheek against hers, hot and damp with sweat, while she watched him slowly move into her. It was an odd out of body experience, she reflected. She could feel and hear and see and smell everything, but at the same time, it felt like she was slightly removed from her body. The only thing connecting her to the reality was the knowledge that this was the man that she had chosen. This was the man that she had decided was hers.

The hand not on her knee fell to grip the pillow by her head, the muscles in his arm standing in sharp relief from the tension in his body. Sympathy for him filled her. If she was feeling like she was about to explode, she couldn't imagine how he was feeling. Holding on to his control for her, so desperately, while trying to not overpower her with his strength, his body, his size.

"Steve," She whispered, feeling his trembling against her, "do it. Just do it."
He shook his head, small droplets of sweat falling on her skin. She had never seen him so worked up before. Even with the weeks of play they had done, this was whole 'nother level. "I don't want to hurt you. I can't do that. I have to go slow. If I don't this is gonna be over before I'm all the way inside you."