I will cum inside you

~Katia~

"Do you know how hard I've been holding myself?" I didn't answer because all I wanted was to get laid. I could still feel the ache between my legs. He carried my bridal style and led me to his hotel room. 

"Now, I can fuck you however I want because you are now my wife, princess." The room was dark, and I was feeling all sorts of things; I doubt I even remember my name at this point. He sent me launching onto a bed. His finger ran along my lips. His lips traced along my neck. It tickles, and it feels so fucking good. My mind zigzags in pleasure and confusion.

"I love your fucking body, wifey." He pulls up my dress, and now I am exposed. "I couldn't wait to get you here so I can taste your cunt from the chopper. I want to make it memorable for you." His words shocked me like a live wire. 

"You are so fucking soft," he gritted as he started sucking on my nipples. I can feel the blood rushing between my legs. "You are so ready for me." 

Before I could answer, he took my breath away as he slid his fingers inside my pussy, and I moaned. 

"Beg for it, wifey," he says, and I opened my mouth, but the only thing that came out was a moan, and he kept rubbing, his palm pressing against my clit. I feel that buildup I felt early on the chopper when he was sucking on my nipple. His fingers meet my lips again; I can smell myself on his fingers. 

"Lick it with the tip of your tongue." He wanted me to taste myself, so I sheepishly darted my tongue to taste a hint of saltiness. 

He removes my dress and then removes his clothes too. He presses a hand against my folds, and I gasp as he lubricates himself with my wetness. Then he thrust inside me, and I sucked in a breath; my mind raced with thoughts in that brief moment. He then captured my lips and started to move. When he threw another thrust, I gasped into the kiss. 

"So fucking perfect." He says, pulling in and out, in and out, fucking me, stretching me. I moaned through tears as his free hand roved along my body, squeezing and rubbing. His teeth tug on my nipples. Then he pressed his lips on mine and kissed me. He then wrapped his arm around me and pulled me up so that he was kneeling on the bed and I was sitting on him. He rocked me up and down. I tightened around his dick. I was no longer in pain; I was enjoying everything he was doing with me and to me. My moans got louder; I didn't care if there was anyone listening to us fucking.

"I'm going to fill you up, Princess." He says, and I mewl, and he goes on, "I can feel you clenching on my dick, princess," he says as he squeezed my ass and pulled me tightly towards him so that I was full. 

He lowers himself along my body and starts grazing his teeth against my skin. He sucked on my breast, and my hips swiveled. He gripped his cock in one hand and thrust inside me again; I let out a deep moan, and pleasure started spraying onto every inch of me. Each thrust was just another little wave colliding against me. 

He grunts and plunges deeply into me, taking himself to the climax he couldn't achieve the time we were in the chopper. He pulled out and watched my pussy, then spread my legs and thrust back in. His thrusts were now violent, and he increased his pace. I started to shake beneath him. I screamed and came, and I dragged him along with me. I felt his cum filling me, and we stayed like that for some time, and after a while his dick started to twitch inside me, and he started to thrust again. He fucked me the whole night, and I don't remember what time we slept.

Morning slammed into me with cruel sunlight and a splitting headache. I woke up in a room I didn’t recognize.

The room screamed money, and the scent of sex and something expensive—cologne, maybe. My head throbbed. My body... ached. I was naked under the sheets, tangled in them like I’d been tossed there, and beside me, a man lay asleep. A stranger, panic hit me like a punch to the chest.

I couldn’t even look at him. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to know what kind of face went with the body that had touched mine, claimed mine. I sat up too fast, and pain shot between my legs like a warning. I gasped and clutched the sheets tighter.

Everything down there was sore and swollen. The ache in my thighs was sharp, deep, and humiliating.

I scanned the floor, found my dress—crumpled and reeking of bar smoke and sweat—and yanked it on, wincing with every movement. My heels were on their sides by the door. I hobbled toward them like I was learning to walk again, forcing myself to stand tall even when I wanted to curl into myself and disappear.

What the hell happened last night?

I remembered the race. The victory. The roar of the crowd. I remembered heading to the bar to celebrate. I ordered one drink, then another, then… then two guys approached me.

Their faces were blurry. Everything after that? Blank, like someone hit the erase button on my memory. There was laughter, I think. Maybe a game of pool. A joke. Something about tequila. And then—nothing.

Just soreness. Just this stranger. Just a room I didn’t know.

I found my purse by the couch, slung it over my shoulder, and didn’t look back. I didn’t want to wake him. I didn’t want him to speak. I didn’t want him to remember me, either.

I made my way to the parking garage, ignoring the way my legs trembled with every step, found my car, and drove back to my hotel like a ghost at the wheel.

When I finally made it to my suite, I didn’t even stop to breathe. I stripped the dress off again, went straight into the bathroom, and turned on the shower like I could rinse off the confusion clinging to me.

The water hit my skin, and I almost jumped.

I smelled like sex and sweat, like someone else’s body had touched every inch of mine, and I didn’t even get the decency of a name.

My chest was tight, my eyes burned, and when I splashed water on my face, something cold clicked against my cheek. I froze and looked down at my left hand, and my stomach dropped into my feet.

I was wearing a ring.

Not costume jewelry. Not something cheap from a souvenir shop. This thing sparkled. It shone. It looked like commitment, permanence, and possibly a felony.

“What the fuck?” I whispered.

I yanked the shower curtain open and stepped out, dripping, breath shallow. My fingers trembled as I turned the ring around, trying to figure out if it was real. It looked expensive. Too expensive. But I didn’t remember anything. Not a proposal. Not a chapel. Not even a kiss.

I threw clothes on, barely drying off, and rushed out of my room to find the guy. Any guy. But I remembered I don't remember anything; there was no trail to follow, no clue, not even a room number. I hadn't even checked what floor I was on this morning.

Even if I passed him in the lobby… I wouldn’t recognize his face.

“Fuck me,” I whispered again, gripping my temple.

I remembered nothing.