Chapter 13: so wrong but so right
The digital chime sliced through the deep silence of Hao’s bedroom, a blade of sound in the dark. Caitlyn stirred against his side, his arm heavy and possessive across her ribs, his breathing slow with sleep. The screen’s blue light illuminated her sleepy face: u up? come here pretty.
Heat, immediate and slick, pooled low in her belly. She slipped from under Hao’s arm, the cool air raising goosebumps on her naked skin, and padded silently across the hall. Anxin’s door was ajar, leaking the dim, illicit glow of red LED strips. He was propped against the headboard, a silhouette in a black hoodie and gray sweats, his dark hair tousled. “Close it,” he said, his voice a soft command. She did, the click of the latch sealing her in. He patted his lap.
She went to him, the plush carpet soft under her feet, and slowly climbed onto him, straddling his thighs. His hands were on her instantly, rough and warm through the thin cotton of her sleep shirt, palms cupping her ass, pulling her flush against the hard line of his erection. “You’ve been thinking about me, huh?” he murmured into the crook of her neck, his lips tracing her pulse. “Why else would you rush over here, you cute little whore.” She couldn’t form words, her breath hitching. His mouth found the sensitive skin beneath her ear, sucking hard, and she gasped. “Anxin, this feels so wron—“
His mouth found the sensitive skin beneath her ear, sucking hard, and she gasped. “Anxin, this feels so wron—“ The protest died in her throat, smothered by a wave of pure sensation as his teeth grazed the same spot. She couldn’t finish because it felt so good, a searing pleasure that short-circuited every thought of guilt.
Too good. “I know, baby,” he whispered, his voice a condescending rasp against her damp skin. His hands slid under her shirt, calloused palms rough on her bare ribs. “You like how wrong it feels, don’t you?”
His hands traced up and down her thighs, his thumbs pressing into the soft, untouched skin of her inner thighs with a proprietary focus. Caitlyn knew how wrong this felt, a treachery that coiled tight in her chest, but there was a second heartbeat pulsing insistently between her legs, a wet, rhythmic throb that betrayed her completely. Anxin’s smirk was a dark curve in the red light as he rocked her gently against him, feeling it through the fabric of his sweats. “I can feel that,” he breathed, his voice thick with sleep and possession. “Your cunt’s beating a fucking drum for me, even while your head’s still in his room.”
Caitlyn looked at him, at the sleepy, pretty carelessness of his face, and something in her fractured. She grabbed his face, her fingers tangling in his messy hair, and pulled him into a deep kiss. It was deep, a slow, consuming pace that signaled a hunger more profound than mere physical need, a silent confession she couldn’t voice. He groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding from her thighs to grip her ass, grinding her down onto the hard, thick length of him. “Yeah,” he muttered against her lips, breaking for air. “That’s it. Show me how much you fucking missed this.”
His fingers tearing the fragile cotton of her thong aside without ceremony. The cold air hit her wetness, and then his bare palm was there, his middle finger sliding through her slick folds with a rough, knowing stroke. “Soaked,” he announced, his voice dripping with contemptuous praise as he pushed one thick finger inside her, then a second, stretching her. “You dream about this while you’re curled up with him? Dream about my fingers fucking you?” She could only nod, a broken sound escaping her as he crooked his fingers, and the world dissolved into a sharp, bright point of pleasure. He worked her with a ruthless precision, his thumb circling her clit in tight, demanding patterns that made her hips buck.
He worked her with a ruthless precision, his thumb circling her clit in tight, demanding patterns that made her hips buck. “That’s my good girl,” he rasped, his breath hot against her ear. “So fucking obedient for me, coming over here the second I called.”
She clenched around his fingers, a sharp, involuntary spasm at the dark praise in his voice. Anxin smirked, feeling her inner muscles flutter and grip him, a pure physical testament to his dominance. “Look at that,” he murmured, slowing his hand just enough to make her whine. “Your greedy little cunt agrees.”
Her head fell back, a string of pleas falling from her lips as the tension coiled, unbearably tight, deep in her core. She was nearing her high, her thighs trembling where they framed his, every nerve screaming toward release. Just as her breathing hitched and her back arched, he stopped.
He pulled his fingers from her with a wet sound and gripped her hip, stilling her completely. “Uh-uh,” he chided, his voice softly cruel. “You think you get to come that quick with me?” The loss was a physical ache, a hollow throb where fulfillment had been seconds away. “We’re just getting started, pretty.”
“We’re just getting started, pretty.”
Caitlyn whined, a desperate, frustrated sound that vibrated against his neck. “Please, Anxin.”
“Turn around,” he demanded, his voice leaving no space for argument.
She obeyed, shifting her weight on trembling legs until her back was pressed against the solid wall of his chest. She could feel the defined ridges of his toned muscles through the soft cotton of his hoodie, a landscape of contained power.
Driven by a need more instinctual than thought, she snaked her hand behind her, sliding it up under the fabric. Her fingers splayed across the hot, smooth skin of his stomach, tracing the hard lines of his abs. He was all coiled tension and heat.
“Good girl,” he breathed into her hair, his own breath catching slightly at her touch. His hands found her hips, anchoring her in place as he rocked her slowly, letting her feel the full, hard length of him straining against his sweats and the thin barrier of her torn thong
“You want it?” he asked, his voice a low, gritty murmur in her ear. His right hand slid around her hip, his fingers dipping once more through her slickness, gathering wetness. “Gotta hear you say it.”
“I want it,” she gasped, the admission torn from her. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Since you texted,” she confessed, her head falling back against his shoulder.
“THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT BABY,” Anxin said, his voice dropping into a darker, more commanding register. He became more dominant, his hands clamping onto her hips with bruising force. “YOU’RE GONNA DRY HUMP ME RIGHT NOW, BABY. THEN AFTER, I WILL FUCK YOU. CAN YOU DO THAT FOR DADDY?”
She nodded, a frantic little motion, and he growled, “Use your words.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered, the title leaving her lips like a sacred vow in this profane space. He guided her, his grip relentless, setting a slow, grinding rhythm against the stiff fabric of his sweats. The rough material of his hoodie scratched her back through her thin shirt, a counterpoint to the smooth, hard heat she rode.
Each forward rock dragged her swollen clit against the dense bulge, the friction a brutal, teasing promise. “Fuck, that’s it,” he rasped, his mouth hot on her throat. “Work for it. Make yourself feel good on me.” Her breathing turned ragged, punctuated by soft, pleading cries that she muffled against her own arm. She could feel the precum soaking through his sweats, a damp spot growing that did nothing to shield her from.
The building pressure was exquisite torture, a cresting wave he wouldn’t let her ride. “You remember the taste of us on your fingers?” he murmured, his voice thick. “That’s what you’re earning.” The memory ignited her, and she ground down harder, desperately chasing the release he was still withholding.
The memory ignited her, and she ground down harder, desperately chasing the release he was still withholding.
It was so intimate and deep it felt like he was trying to knock her up through three layers of clothing.
Each savage roll of her hips smashed her clit against the punishing ridge of him, the friction a raw, glorious torment that threatened to unravel her completely. He knew just how to move her, his hands guiding the angle, his groans of approval vibrating through her spine. “There, right there, you fucking love that pressure, don’t you?” he growled, biting her shoulder.
She was so close, a tight, screaming coil of need, her whole world narrowing to the slick, grinding rhythm. “Daddy, I’m gonna—“
but he stilled her
A ragged sob escaped her. He manhandled her off his lap, spinning her to face him, his eyes black in the crimson light. “Now you’re gonna ride,” he stated, peeling off his hoodie.
He lay back against the headboard, a king on a dark throne. “This wet little cunt is mine right now,” he said, slapping her inner thigh. “So get on it. I’ll tell you when and how you can cum.”
She straddled him, her hands braced on his chest, the head of him nudging her soaked entrance. “All that also belongs to me now,” he finished, his voice dropping to a possessive whisper. He didn’t help her, just watched as she hesitated, the tip of him pressing, spreading her open an inch.
He didn’t help her, just watched as she hesitated, the tip of him pressing, spreading her open an inch. She sank down slowly, a stifled gasp escaping her as he filled her, the stretch breathtaking and familiar. “Fuck, princess,” Anxin groaned, his head thumping back against the headboard, his hands settling on her hips. She was still so so tight it was like last time.
She was too tense. Too scared. “I can barely move, you’re squeezing me,” he gritted out, his fingers flexing against her skin. He snaked a hand down between their bodies, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing it in slow, firm circles just how she likes it. “Come on, relax for me,” he murmured, his other hand coming up to cradle her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheek.
He tilted her face down and kissed her, a soft, lingering contrast to the fierce fullness below. “Breathe, baby,” he whispered against her lips, his thumb still working her clit.
“Breathe, baby,” he whispered against her lips, his thumb still working her clit. His other hand slid from her jaw to the nape of her neck, holding her gaze in the dim red light. “I’m right here,” he said, his voice a low, steady anchor in the storm of her nerves. “Now take it. Take it all like the pretty slut you are for me.”
That did it.
She sank down in one slow, excruciatingly deep motion, swallowing every thick, hard inch of him until their bodies were fully joined. He bottomed out, earning sharp, simultaneous gasps from both of them, a shared shock of pure penetration. The overwhelming fullness stole the air from her lungs, a breathtaking stretch that bordered on pain before it melted into a deep, radiating pleasure. “Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair.
His hips gave a slight, involuntary upward roll, seating himself even deeper inside her, and she cried out, a raw sound of perfect overwhelm. “See?” he rasped, his own breath ragged. “You can take it. You were made for this.” He released her hair, letting her find her own rhythm, his hands returning to guide her hips. She began to move, a tentative rise and fall that quickly grew bolder, each descent a wet, clutching slide.
The slick sounds of their coupling filled the room, a filthy rhythm punctuated by their ragged breathing. “Talk to me,” he demanded, his eyes locked on where their bodies connected, watching himself disappear into her. “Tell me how it feels.” “So full,” she choked out, riding him harder. “It feels like you’re everywhere.”
He smirked, a dark, possessive look. “I am.” His hands gripped her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh, helping her piston up and down on his dick. “This cunt remembers me, doesn’t it?” She nodded, frantically, her breasts swaying with each forceful bounce. “Feels better than your fingers,” she gasped, repeating his earlier degradation back to him, and he laughed, a rough, delighted sound.
“That’s my girl.”
“That’s my girl.” His praise was a dark caress. Then, in one fluid, powerful motion, his hands tightened on her waist and he flipped her.
The world spun. She landed on her stomach with a soft gasp, the cool sheets against her cheek. He was hovering over her instantly, his knees pressing hers apart, his weight a delicious anchor.
He grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and shoved it firmly beneath her hips, arching her back and raising her ass for him. The submission of the position was absolute, vulnerable and offered.
“I want you to feel all of me,” he growled, his voice stripped of all softness. He guided himself to her dripping entrance, the head nudging against her swollen folds. “Right fucking now.”
He slammed home.
The deep, punching thrust stole her breath, a brutal fullness that made her see stars. She cried out, a raw, unfiltered sound muffled by the mattress. “Anxin!”
“Say it,” he demanded, pulling out almost completely only to drive back in with the same devastating force. His hands gripped her shoulders, pinning her down.
“I was made for you!” she sobbed, the words torn from a place of absolute truth as he filled her completely. Each pounding stroke carved the declaration deeper into her flesh. “Made for this, for your dick, I can’t stop thinking about it, about you—”
He leaned over her, his chest damp with sweat pressing against her back, his mouth at her ear. “I know.” His pace was relentless, a punishing rhythm that jolted the bedframe. “This greedy cunt and this pretty ass were always mine.”
The brutal tempo of his hips didn’t falter, each deep plunge a claim staked in the damp, clutching heat of her. “Prove it,” he grunted, his voice strained with the effort of his pace. She could only sob, the words she’d practiced in the dark dissolving into meaningless vowels under the physical onslaught.
He dragged her up by her hair, arching her back against his chest, so he could watch him pistoning into her from below. “Look,” he commanded, his breath a hot gale past her ear. Her glazed eyes dropped to the obscene sight, the thick, glistening length of him vanishing into her stretched, welcoming flesh, her own wetness coating him with every withdrawal.
“I want to hear you fucking say it.” His hand snaked around to press down on her lower belly, just as Hao had that first time, making her feel the impossible depth. “Who does this belong to?”
The pressure, the fullness, the memory of Hao’s identical possession shattered her completely. The confession tore from her, raw and unfiltered. “I’m yours, Anxin! Yours to play with, yours to touch! No one else! Only you and Hao!”
His hand left her belly, the sudden absence of pressure a cold shock before his palm cracked down on the curve of her ass. The sound was a sharp, wet report in the room, a brutal period on her confession. She jerked against him, a yelp tearing from her throat, the sting blooming hot and immediate.
He did it again, harder, his fingers leaving instant, searing prints on her skin. “You say his name while I’m inside you?” he snarled, spanking her a third time, the force jolting her entire body forward on the pillow. Each slap punctuated his words. “While. My. Dick. Buried. Your. Guts.”
The pain was bright, clarifying, merging with the deep, internal friction until she couldn’t separate them. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whimpered, the apology muffled by the sheets, her body instinctively pressing back for more. He granted it, a final, open-palmed blow that made her eyes water, before his hand smoothed over the heated skin. “You will be.”
“You will be.” His hands tightened on her hips, his rhythm faltering for a heartbeat. “Over the knee. Now.”
He pulled out of her with a slick, abrupt sound, leaving her empty and clenching at the air. Before she could process the loss, he was sitting back against the headboard, his gaze hard. He manhandled her effortlessly, turning her and dragging her across his lap, her ass raised high and exposed in the red light.
The position was utter submission, her cheek pressed to the rumpled sheets, her hands bracing on the floor. His large palm came down once, a cracking blow that echoed. The sting was immediate, a sharp bloom of heat that made her gasp.
He spanked her again, harder, the sound a wet slap against her already-sensitive skin. “This is for coming when I called,” he said, his voice low and measured, each word punctuated by another strike. “For being so fucking eager.”
Her body jerked with each impact, a whimper escaping her. The pain was bright and clean, cutting through the haze of pleasure, and she felt a fresh gush of wetness soak her thighs. She loved this, the deliberate, calculated punishment, the way his large hands completely owned the curve of her ass.
“And this,” thwack, “is for saying his name,” thwack, “while my dick was in your cunt.” The spanks fell in a steady, rhythmic torrent, lighting up her nerves. She moaned, pushing back into each blow, the fantasy she’d harbored for weeks finally manifesting in the sting and the scent of sex and his control.
“You’re dripping, you filthy girl,” he observed, his fingers sliding through the slickness coating her inner thighs. He rubbed his wet fingers over the heated skin of her ass, the cool slide a shocking contrast. “You dreamt about this, didn’t you? Me reddening this perfect ass while you got wetter and wetter.”
“Yes,” she sobbed, the admission torn from her. “I dreamt about it.” He delivered a final, searing volley of spanks that left her trembling and breathless. Then he stopped, his hand resting heavily on the punished flesh.
He leaned close, his lips brushing her ear. “Good. Now you get what you want.”
Now you get what you want.” His voice was a dark promise against her heated skin. He shifted her from his lap, turning her onto her back on the rumpled sheets, her reddened ass stinging against the cool cotton.
She looked up at him, her chest heaving, her eyes wide and drowning in want. “I want you, Anxin,” she pleaded, the words raw and unfiltered. Her fuck me eyes were so eager Anxin almost came on the spot.
“I want you inside me,” she whispered, her hands grasping at his forearms. “Claiming my insides. Play with me. Use me. Anything. I’m yours.”
A low groan vibrated in his chest, a sound of pure, strained hunger. “You begging like this is gonna make me ruin you faster,” he warned, but he was already moving, settling his weight between her thighs.
He guided himself to her, the swollen head catching on her slick, swollen folds. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice gravel, pausing just to watch her squirm.
“Please,” was all she could manage, a broken syllable. He sank into her in one long, excruciatingly deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt, reclaiming every inch she’d offered.
The fullness was a breathtaking shock, a perfect stretch that made her cry out. He held himself there, buried deep, his jaw clenched, letting her feel the absolute possession. “Mine,” he grunted, the word final.
Then he began to move.