“Morning, sleepyhead,” are the words that wake me up as he whispers in my ear. What is this? Is it love or infatuation?

I spread my legs, and he shuts the door, at the same time I close my eyes. I smell his musk…his strong, masculine musk. Even first thing this morning, there is no change to his aroma. It’s the same as the night before, strong, masculine, and crying out my name.

My hairs stand up as if they’re attracted to him like a magnet. They want to pull him close. I want to say something, anything that will help me figure out what’s going on. I should’ve run out the door; I feel his length brush against my thigh. I’m naked, and he’s so close, close enough my erect nipples are aligned with his.

His head is between my legs and his hands around my ankles as he starts to lower himself down. I open my eyes, knowing I don’t have to look at him.

“Don’t move,” he demands as his tongue darts straight into my wetness, and I groan. I moan at my weakness, my constant refusal to stay as far away from this man as possible.

He holds gently onto my ankles and pierces his tongue in and out of my labia. I stand, trying not to disobey. It’s so hard because I’m becoming weaker and weaker at the knees the more he presses against my clit. His tongue is swirling, his lips are blowing, and it’s driving me wild. I know I’m so close to the edge of climax, and the only words that can escape my lips are, “Hmm, I’m…”

He’s quiet as he takes control of my climax. He keeps moving slowly in and out, and his fingers tease my ankles.

I come, slumping like a rag doll waiting to be controlled. He jumps up behind me and holds onto my breasts, pushing me against the door. This can only mean one thing: he wants relief, and it’s going to be against the door.

My head moves to the side, he slides his tongue into my mouth, and I suck it. I suck it harder as his fat cock strokes my cunt. I start to get wet again. Ryan wants me to know he controls me, and as much as I want to leave, I can’t. He never forced me; he just wants me to stay. He needs me to be the one who chooses, and I took the option of being with him.

I clear my mind and take the pleasure he is going to give me as he enters me slowly with his length. I forgot how big he is until he thrusts it in until it won’t fit anymore, and with one hand still on my breast, he focuses on my clit with the other. His fingers stroke it as he circles his hips, my pussy becoming once again acquainted with his member.

He’s not going to pump into me.

This is the beginning of my journey. I want to scream, but I keep sucking his tongue. I start to lap it harder as I feel his cock grinding, my pussy crying for more. I whimper as he withdraws his tongue from my mouth and asks, “What do you need me to do?”

“Pump me.”

“No, what do you need me to do.”

I’m confused by the question. I need him to fuck me, but I don’t want to say that, so he continues to rotate his length. It goes round and round, and so does my arse. This time, he drops my breast and uses both hands to stroke my arse, and alternates the movement to my clit.

I need him to fuck me, and the more I feel, the more my pussy walls tell me not to be so stubborn and just enjoy the sex. It is crying, and if it could speak, it would shout it out loud and clear. He slows his movements, making my torture feel even worse. I’m frustrated and finally blurt out, “Fuck me.”

“Louder.”

“Fuck me!” I shout with my head pressed against the door, partly because of the force he has on me, and partly because I’m exhausted.

We come, and I’m exhausted and sore at the same time. As I feel his come shoot up my spine, I cry, my tears streaking down my cheek.

He climbs on top of me slowly, and says, “I’m going to make love to you. This is what you need and want right now.”

Open, your mouth. Tell him to get off you.

I should deny him. I should have prevented him from torturing me as he did before. He sighs as he makes his way to the bathroom to clean himself. I watch him like a frozen statue. Unable to move, waiting for him to take me as he did once before. My pussy wants more, and it knows he’s willing to give it. As he makes his way back, he kisses my head, then my cheeks and finally my lips. It feels like I’m kissing a different person.

This person doesn’t want to fuck me; he wants me to love him as he is going to do to me right now. My wetness is driving me mad as it starts to flow when his length strokes my pussy. I can’t believe it feels this way after what he did, and I feel betrayed.

Every part of me is letting me down, my pussy, for reacting every time he touches me, my impulse, for not walking out the door and my conscience, as I recall that I came here to give him a baby not to fall in love.

He is causing so many mixed emotions in my mind that I can’t think straight. I kiss him back with hunger as he gently enters my pussy, and my legs wrap around him so we can be as one. He thrusts gently inside me, using his hands to caress my sides, my face and, at times, to drive my head closer to his as we kiss.