I was in this trance, this dream-like state as Jackson fucked me, claimed me as his, made me take all his thick, long inches. He stretched me in two, split me open in the best of ways. I was wet from my arousal, but from my virgin blood, as well.

He placed both hands beside my head as he continued to make me take his dick. Sweat bloomed along my body and, as if it was a temptation for Jackson, he lowered his head and ran his tongue along the valley between my breasts, licking away the salty remnants of my desire.

He pulled out slowly and pushed back. Over and over, tormenting me, making me weep with how much more I wanted. I clutched at the sheets, drawing them close to my side, wanting something harder, firmer to hold on to. In that moment I was his, the same as he was mine.

I’m Jackson’s, irrevocably.

That discomfort and pain slowly started to diminish. My virginity was gone, my virtue, innocence, in the hands of this man.

And then he started thrusting into me like a madman. He slammed into me so forcefully my body was shoved up the bed, my cries carrying high and loud. He gripped my waist, keeping me in place, making me the vessel for his pleasure. I was full, so damn full of his cock I couldn’t think straight.

He was focused on where he was lodged in my body, on where he was claiming me. His frantic thrusting slowed, and in its place was this lazy, prolonged swing of his hips against me, pushing his dick farther into me, making me take all of him.

“God, fucking yes, baby.”

“You want me to give you so much more you can’t even breathe, can’t even fucking walk straight come morning?” He never stopped moving in and out of me.

“Yes,” I screamed out. He was the only person who could make me feel like this.

“I want so much more from you.” He uttered those words low, sharp, like a blade over my skin.

Jackson was thrusting in and out of me ferociously now, his skin slapping against mine, forcing his way into my body. He pounded, tunneling those long, thick inches into my willing body, making me take it all.

I closed my eyes, opened myself up, and allowed myself to just absorb the sensations. I felt myself go over the edge, felt myself come for the man I cared about more than I’d ever admitted to anyone, maybe even myself.

“Fucking take it all, Megan. Stretch for me, cry out for more.” His motions were hard, powerful. “Tell me you’re mine,” Jackson demanded, ordered.

“I’m yours,” I cried out, the words spilling from me as if they were their own entity, wanting out. I wanted to scream those words over and over again, tell him that I’d be—do—whatever he wanted.

Jackson kept slamming his cock in and out of me, and all I could do was hold onto him, digging my nails into his biceps, and just let him fuck me. I could only feel.

He made this low, dangerous sound, and I felt him swell even thicker inside of me.

“You’re fucking mine,” he said, and then I felt him come, felt him fill me up, bathe me in his seed. He was an animal and I was his conquest, his prize.

He held me down, made me take it all, accept what he had to give me. And I was more than willing to give it to him. And when he gave one last grunt, one final, brutal thrust into my body, he exhaled and rested his body on mine. He was covered in sweat, the same as mine, but it felt good having him this close.

Our breathing was rough, hard, and I felt my body start to shake, felt the aftereffects of what he’d done to me, of what I’d accepted.

I’d given Jackson every part of me, gave him my virginity, my innocence. I was his now, and there was no going back. There was no turning back.

But I didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to run away. I wanted to be his in every way imaginable, and I didn’t know if that made me fucked up or not.

And when he pulled out of me I couldn’t breathe, the absence of his body on mine, in me, was this loss I didn’t want. He rolled off of me but immediately pulled me in close, his hand between my legs. He teased my now sensitive pussy opening, pushing his thick digit into me.

“My cum belongs in you,” he said gruffly, pushing the seed that had started to slip from my body back inside, marking me. He pulled his finger out and brought the tip between my lips, forcing me to lick it clean. I tasted both of us, his saltiness and my sweet musk. I was drunk off of it.

He removed his finger and smoothed the slick digit over my bottom lip.

I sighed, feeling so tired, but exactly where I was supposed to be.