“Tank,” I beg. He wraps an arm around my hips and holds me like a vice. I can’t move. I squirm against him, but he won’t let me go. Without warning, he drives two thick fingers inside me. It hurts, and I breathe easier, especially once he starts thrusting them in and out of me in a brutal punishing rhythm. I close my eyes and lose myself in the sound and feel of his slick fingers working against my body.
When I’m close, he stops pumping all together. He slides them out of me and the arm pinning me in place loosens a little as his fingers gently stroke my clit. I buck against him, away from him, and though I can feel my orgasm building, I don’t want it like this. I can’t have it like this. My body disagrees completely, and as he buries his head in my pussy, eating me out as though he’s famished, licking me from back to front, and stroking my clit with attentive fingers, I come undone. Pleasure, heady and intense, smacks into me. I lose myself completely.
Tank keeps up his gentle pressure, licking and sucking until a second orgasm sluices through me, and it’s too much. I can’t deal with the sensations in my body, and the idea that they’re caused not by pain but from pleasure alone.
Hot tears trail down my cheeks and I close my eyes. I twist and grab his head from behind, holding him in position as I ride out the agonising high.
Tank gets to his feet and I think finally he’s going to fuck me, that he’ll drive into me and fuck me senseless right here on the table, and that we can forget whatever the hell that was, but he doesn’t fuck me. Of course he doesn’t. He takes hold of my waist and lifts me from the table, setting me on my feet. Slowly, I turn and face him. His beard is covered with my juices, and while a part of me wants to lick it off, I lower my head and lean into his body. I can’t look at him. If I do, I’m afraid he’ll see something in me, something that tells him he can continue to treat me with tenderness, and that isn’t at all what I want. It isn’t—
He steals my thoughts by placing his hands on either side of my face and gently, reverently tilting my head up to his. I close my eyes so I don’t meet his gaze, so he won’t see beneath to all of the unexposed parts of me.
“Look at me, babe.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Please?” he begs, and goddamn him, I do. Because I’ve never heard him sound so defenceless. I’ve never heard him sound vulnerable, and the fact that this huge man—who’s ordinarily so strong and so self-reliant—might need something from me, something that only I can give him in this moment, is a sobering thought. I open my eyes, and see the need there, not just need but hunger and nervousness all at once, which makes me smile a little, because it’s so odd to see the man who never feels anything show so much emotion with one little look.
“I’m gonna take you to my bed, and I’m gonna lay you down, and I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before, and you’re gonna love every second of it,” he whispers, and kisses me hard on the mouth.
I return his kisses with vigour. Our mouths devour one another, our hands soothe and scorch all at once, and for the first time in my life I feel something I never thought possible. I feel strong and weakened. I’m overjoyed and undone all at once because I’ve never had anyone touch me the way he does, I’ve never had anyone build me up before, and I’ve never not wanted to break in another man’s hands.
Tank builds, not breaks. Odd, considering he kills for a living. Though I guess that’s exactly what he’s doing in this moment. Killing me slowly, softly, and so deliciously that I’d happily die a thousand times over to feel this again.
His big hands move from my hair down my back and cup my arse, hard. It’s the first time he’s shown any of the Tank that I’m used to, and it jars me for a moment. He lifts me, and I have no choice but to wrap my legs around his hips. His legs are still in his leathers, and he shuffles at a snail’s pace, but for the first time ever there’s no urgency between us. I kiss him slow and deep and writhe against him with each step that we take towards the bedroom. Moments later, Tank stumbles and falls onto the bed, crushing me beneath him, and the air rushes out of my lungs with an oomph.
“Fuck, sorry,” he says, leaning up on his elbows.
“Holy shit, you’re heavy,” I say, when I regain my breath.
“You wanna be on top?”
I grin and shake my head. “No, I don’t.”
He grins back and kisses a trail down my neck to my breasts. He takes my nipple between his teeth and gently bites down, forcing an arc of molten liquid to shoot from my tits to my pussy. I cry out, and Tank’s sapphire eyes pin me with promises. He trails his mouth lower and settles himself between my legs.
“No, Tank, please? I need you to fuck me,” I beg.
“And I need to feel these pretty thighs of yours squeezing the sides of my face.” He growls and I shut up, because there’s something beautiful in the way Tank eats pussy. He has this thing about looking into your eyes as he gets you off. It’s fucking phenomenal. With any other man it might make me feel awkward, or self-conscious. But not with him.
He slides two fingers inside me and my breath hitches. Tank licks up one side of my pussy and down the other, and then he twists his fingers inside me, and presses against my G-spot.
“Oh fuck,” I moan, unable to control the way my legs shake as he fucks me hard with those long, thick fingers of his, and hits all the right places.
“Come for me, baby.”
Tank’s coarse beard adds to the sensation as I slide my cunt against his mouth. With one big hand he shoves my writhing hips down on the mattress and sucks my clit into his mouth. “Oh fuck, Tank,” I pant, as I grab his hair and practically scalp him in the process.
I squeeze my thighs together in an effort to lessen the pressure or intensify it—I’m not sure which. All I know is that I feel too much right now. I also know that Tank has no intention of letting me go until I come for him. I know this, and yet I still try to squirm away.
He tries pinning me to the bed with his huge arms, but I struggle. It’s too much. Too sweet. Too gentle. When he gets tired of fighting me, he growls and gets to his knees, slides his arms underneath me and lifts my arse off of the bed. He doesn’t just lift my arse, but my whole body, and settles me over his shoulders, burying his face in my pussy again while he supports me with firm hands at my back. He sucks my clit into his mouth and I come, hard, scratching his head, neck, and anything else I can find purchase with. Tank grunts as I practically suffocate him with my thighs, and then he unceremoniously dumps me on the bed in a heap of shaking limbs and weightlessness.
It’s as if he’s sliced me open from forehead to toes and yanked out all my bones, and I’m left with muscle and sinew that clings to nothing. I should be unnerved, but instead, for the first time in my life I feel free. Even if only for a moment. Even if the hurt and pain and torment of my father comes creeping back in as soon as this bliss disperses, I’ll still have the knowledge that for one fleeting second I escaped him. Tank gave me that when no one else even bothered to try.
I laugh at … well, I’m not even sure what I’m laughing at. The endorphins? The way he just tossed me around like a ragdoll? Or the fact that I just had three of the most mind-blowing orgasms of my life, and they had nothing to do with pain.
When I quit giggling like a fucking schoolgirl I open my eyes, and he’s staring at me in awe. My laughter stops short. “Sorry.”
“Don’t you dare fuckin’ apologise. I don’t know what the hell you’re laughin’ at, and so long as it’s not my cock I don’t care.” He climbs on top of me and spreads my legs apart with his knees, fitting himself into the space between my thighs. His cock presses against my clit, making me slowly arch up against him. Tank rests his weight on bent elbows and smooths the hair back from my face. The way he looks at me makes me feel nervous for the first time in a long time. I shouldn’t get too used to this. I shouldn’t get too used to him, because even though I want to, the idea of trusting in this, of falling in love with him, frightens me more than being alone and on the run.