Taken

But David made me open them, keep them open and focused on him, on his eyes, seeking to take me somewhere I’d never been, somewhere I ached to go, a place I was desperate for and at the same time terrified of. And when I looked over at Sarah, pleading with my eyes, I saw she knew, she understood, and I felt the shift in her, knowing suddenly she was allowing all of this because she wanted it for me, but more-

it wasn’t in her control anymore.

It was then that the trembling started, and I wanted to crawl away, hide. I felt too raw and bare, vulnerable and exposed before them both. And I don’t know how he knew what to do, but David took my hands and raised them above my head and pressed his body weight against me, not completely, but enough, holding both of my wrists in his one hand, and he kissed me. It was like falling, like disappearing, like I’d found the edge of that precipice and leaped, or been pushed, and there was nowhere else to go but the bottomless depth that his mouth, the weight of him, the thick hardness resting against my thigh, all pressed me towards.

Suddenly all appetite, I was eager and moaning, sucking at his tongue, my shaking thighs clasped around him as if I could force him to enter me, take me. I felt him smile against my mouth, and he nuzzled my jaw, my neck, whispering something I couldn’t hear, but I felt it all through my body, almost a chant, murmured over and over.

I felt my body respond, buzzing still but less frantic for him, now more of a yearning breathing me wide open. He whispered, “Good,” against my ear and I thought the heat of that praise would melt me into a small puddle on the rug.

I relaxed into his exploration of my body, the murmur of his mouth against my skin, the delicious heat spreading thick like honey or syrup everywhere he touched me. I found myself calling for him, as I’d heard Sarah do, “David, David,” my head moving side to side, eyes closed and lost in the sensation.

Then he was above me again, urging me to open my eyes, to see him, and my breath went away the moment I did. I felt more naked than I’d ever been before and closed my eyes again. He kissed my eyelids and whispered, “Elizabeth,” my full name,

“open your eyes,” and it wasn’t a request. I couldn’t deny him. I whimpered, and he let more of him press into me, the weight of him, his chest, his belly. I felt his cock resting against my wetness and moaned.

And we were there, I don’t know how long, his breath matching mine. He was somehow breathing me, entering me with his breath, with his eyes, and I felt something within me break open, dissolve. It was only then that he pushed into me, the size and feel of him a force beyond any physical sensation I’d ever known. This wasn’t sex-this wasn’t anything like I’d experienced, the urgent, quick fumblings in the backseat or the groping and poking in the basement with Tim-this was like fucking the universe, being fucked by the entire cosmos. There was no me and no him, and it was all me and all him and I knew nothing else.

His rhythm was slow at first, and I squeezed myself around him, wanting more, more, more. His movements were controlled but responsive, feeding me a little at a time, as if I were a baby bird, just one enormous, eager hunger. I thought fleetingly of Sarah’s poem, and finally understood.

I wiggled and moaned, reaching up for him and wrapping my arms around his shoulders, his neck, my fingers slipping through his curls, and he let me pull him close, closer, and then…then pushed even further into me. Oh God, I didn’t realize he’d been holding back the length of him until he fully entered me and the sound that came out of my throat was from some other girl, someone I didn’t know, a raw and low and aching sound.

And then he teased me again, only giving me part of him, slow, shallow thrusts, making me pant and squirm and beg beneath him, until finally he moved deeper, harder into me, his arms gathering me toward him, pressing me against his chest, his face buried in my hair. I heard myself moaning from far away, and felt a jolt, like a current, go through me when he would, every now and then, make a small grunting noise and stop for a moment, poised just at the entrance of me, breathing hard. If I wiggled then or pressed upward, his mouth would set in a thin line, his eyes would roll back under their lids, and his breath would simply disappear. And then he’d start again, all deep, even strokes, urging me higher, my whole body buzzing and alive.

I realized I was waiting for him, testing him, teasing him, squeezing him. Tim couldn’t last longer than five minutes tops-he always seemed lost the minute he slid into the smooth, slickness of me. I didn’t expect things to last, considering how long David had been with Sarah. And somehow I think he knew it.

He had that small smile as he fucked me-God how he fucked me! — watching me through those half-lidded, dark eyes. It was like he was waiting, and I think he was.