Arena Ch. 03

His breath is warm on her neck as his lips slowly caress her skin. She wants to let her anger go, to enjoy his tender attentions, but she can't. Her mood darkens to match the grumbling weather. She should stop this, before she ruins the mood, but dammit, she wants him, and wants him badly.

He continues to caress her skin with his lips and fingertips, trying to get her to relax and let go of her anger, even if for only a little while. As he kisses her neck, he slowly unbuttons her blouse, caressing her skin with his lips as it becomes visible, but she remains stiff and uninvolved.

He is doing all the right things, but she can't seem enjoy it, and that frustrates her even more. He pulls her upright, slipping her blouse from her shoulders, kissing the exposed skin with feather light touches as he works the catches of her bra. She closes her eyes, trying to find that place where love meets lust.

Never has she been so distant during their lovemaking and he's becoming annoyed, not with her, but with himself for being unable to break through the wall between them. He considers asking her again if she wants to quit, but he wants her so badly, and she's already said she wants to continue. He pushes her gently to the bed after removing her top, and begins to unfasten her pants.

He kisses her stomach as he removes her pants, slowly working the button, teasing her with anticipation. She pushes his hands away, frustrated that he's taking so long, taking control and quickly removing them, tossing them onto the floor, sorry for her actions before the pants leave her hand. He's still fully dressed, asking nothing from her, trying to draw her out, so why is she being such a bitch?

He waits while she removes her pants and throws them in the floor. Sweet and gentle isn't getting her where he wants her to be, and he realizes that what she needs is to vent her anger. But how? How can he get her to let it go? He and Giselle have never fought, never so much as raised their voice to one another, but he thinks that's exactly what she needs, a fight.

Rick sets his face in what he hopes is a look of aggravation as he strips out of his clothes. He's never picked a fight in the nude before, and he isn't sure what's going to happen.

Rick's face hardens as he begins to remove his clothes, his motions harsh and jerky. As he turns his back to her, sitting on the edge of the bed and removing his pants, she goes to him. "Rick, I'm sorry. I—"

"You want a fight, Giselle, is that what you want?" he cuts her off, then stops, not sure what else to say. He doesn't want to hurt her, just make her mad, "If that's what you want, then come on, let's get on with it," he says loudly, rising to his feet in a challenge. "If you have something to say, then say it."

Her eyes narrow in anger. What's gotten into him? Why's he overreacting? Yes, she shouldn't have acted the way she did, but she tried to apologize. As if she didn't have enough problems, now she's going to have to deal with this?

"Look, I think we need a minute to cool off before one of us says something we'll regret."

She stands to gather her clothes and dress when he takes her by the arm, turning her toward him before she can touch the first article of clothing.

"If you have something to say to me, then I want to hear it," he says harshly.

"Let go of me," she says in a low and threatening voice. He's really starting to piss her off.

"Or what, Giselle? What are you going to do?" He pulls her into him, holding her tight, her arms pinned to her side, his hard penis pressed between their naked bodies. "There's nothing you can do." He's keeping up the bravado, but this could go so spectacularly wrong, and if it does, he doesn't know how he'll make it up to her.

She begins to squirm madly to be free of his grip. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" she screams at him, the last couple words of her rage lost in a clap of thunder. "Let go of me you bastard! Let go!"

His embrace slips, and with a lunge, she breaks his grip on her, falling onto the bed. She scrambles to get away but he's on her again, grasping at her, pinning her down with hand and body. She fights like a wildcat, slapping, kicking, punching, scratching, all her rage pouring out of her as she fights to be free of his grasping hands, but he's too strong and finally, exhausted, she gives up, all the fight having gone out of her.

He takes her blows, some very painful, while he, as gently as possible, keeps her confined to the center of the bed. He holds her down with his hands and body, protecting himself as much as he can, until she exhausts herself. As she lies still, panting and sweating, he slowly, gently, caresses her on the cheek.

"Feel better?" he asks with a smile.

She stares at him in horror for what she's done. He is covered in red marks where she's been hitting him, and he's bleeding!

"Rick! I'm so—!"

He put a finger against her lips, cutting her off. "Shhhh... it's okay," he says before kissing her gently.

She realizes it was all a setup, Rick goading her until her anger spilled out, forcing her to expend it and let it go. He hasn't hurt her, hasn't even said anything nasty to her, only invited her to take her anger and frustrations out on him. In her blind rage, she has, but at what cost? She pulls him down on her, kissing him hard on the lips, her passions still running high. As he lowers himself into her kiss his hard penis presses into her pelvis. His hardness, the fact that he kept his erection while she beat the shit out of him in rage, excites her beyond reason.

It was painful as hell, but her aloofness has been shattered. Her kiss is painfully hard, made more painful still by his split lip. It's worth it, though. His fight with her has made him want her all the more. She grabs his cock and pushes at him, trying to insert him into her, her grip on his manhood tight and unyielding. There is no tenderness between them, their fight stripping them of everything but their need for one another. He backs off the bed, standing between her legs as he pulls her to him, her ass hovering at the edge of the mattress as he squats slightly and enters her.

He inserts his cock into her, starting out slow, and then driving into her with such force that he grunts in the effort. She utters a bark of pleasure as his hips crash into hers, her hands gripping his biceps as he begins to thrust himself furiously into her, hissing in pleasure as he batters her with his hips. Their fight, the roaring storm outside, his hammering cock, it's too much.

"Rick... stop... I can't take it..." she pants, writhing in pleasure.

He begins to growl, low in his chest as his pleasure builds, his world narrowing, the raging thunderstorm outside, his painful bruises, everything forgotten except his need and the need to please her. He hears her begging for him to stop, but he's come too far, is too deep into his lust to be denied now.

"Yes you can," he growls, "You can take it."

"I can't!" she gasps. "I can't take it!" She begins to fight him again, trying to make him stop, trying to get away from the pleasure she can't handle. The room strobes as lightning flashes, the house vibrating from the thunderclaps and the rain roaring against the window.

He grabs her wrists, preventing her from hitting him as he drives himself into her, using her own straining arms to increase the power of his thrusts.

"Yes you can," he says huskily, panting in desire. "Yes you can."

She begins to thrash her head, pulling her arms up, hands like claws, "Can't..." she gasps, her mouth opening into a silent scream as he continues to batter her, shredding her control and her will. Her orgasm is on her, but it won't release her, lashing her as the storm lashes the window.

Rick knows he's going to come. He stops his battering hips as Giselle writhes in the grip of her orgasm, trying to hold back his own climax, but he's so excited that her twisting and squirming is pushing him over the edge. He releases her arms and, sliding both hands under her back and around her shoulders, he holds her firmly in place as he begins to take her with such fury that she cries out in pain, or pleasure, as her nails claw at his back.

He begins to drive his cock into her with a power and passion she's never experienced. He holds her tight to him by her shoulders, his grip so tight it's painful, but the discomfort only adds to her desire. She flails, trying to make him stop, her pleasure centers overloaded, until with the sizzle and crash of a nearby lightning strike, her orgasm explodes with a power she's never experienced. The sounds of the storm mix with her cries of erotic pain and of pleasure as her orgasm destroys her.

Just as a particularly close thunderclap shakes the house, he roars out his orgasm. The raging storm, with its blinding flashes of light and chest-thumping crashes of thunder, Giselle's wail of pleasure and their fight, have all combined to excite him beyond what he believed possible, giving him an orgasm of unimaginable power. He can't control his body, his legs quivering and thrusting, crash painfully into the bedside as he writhes helplessly, trying to hold her as she battles him in her own orgasmic throes, her pussy clenching him tight as she bucks and writhes, his cock lunging and moving inside her as she attempts to throw him off of her, their erotic struggle exciting him even more.

Even in her own orgasmic throes, she feels him come, bellowing in animalistic passion, his roar merging with the sounds of the storm and her own cries of passion. He pours his wetness into her, still thrusting forcefully as he ejaculates, snarling as she jerks and bucks, her muscles twisting her body against her will and prolonging her pleasure.

His orgasm finishes as Giselle continues in her pleasure, her breath a deep, growling grunt as she pants, her eyes hard and defiant, silently daring him to try to tame her. His cock, still buried deep in her, is achingly hard, so he thrusts into her again, violently, the pleasure so intense he growls through gritted teeth. Her face twists into a snarl of erotic savagery as he buries his head in her shoulder and levers her up, climbing into the bed with her before throwing her backward. His cock never leaves her as he begins to pound into her again.

He begins fucking her again with hard, savage jabs of his cock. My God, she moans, the feel of his pounding hips twisting her up. She hasn't even finished the most powerful orgasm of her life and another one is coming on its heels. She squeezes, trying to control her climax, as he picks her up and throws her back on the bed, driving himself incredibly deep before once again pummeling her with his cock and savaging her neck as he thrusts. Her control is lost and another devastating orgasm takes her as the room shakes with thunder.

He's spent. His cock is still as hard as any erection he has ever had, but he can't stand the intense sensations of her pussy surrounding, gripping, milking, his cock any longer. He stops moving with a gasp, lying fully on her as she begins to writhe under him again, her moaning pants and movements enough to make him twist and squirm, groaning in ecstasy as his cock continues to move within her.

Finally the last of her climax fades. She's exhausted, used up from the power of her orgasms, unable to move save to touch him as he lies on her, holding her, his cock still hard inside her. How can he possibly still be hard, and will she be able to handle him if he starts fucking her again? She doesn't think she can, but she'll try. With every fiber of her being, she'll try, because she wants him to start fucking her again, to extend this moment forever.

She begins to relax in his arms, her orgasm over. Despite his hardness, he has nothing left to give. Never in his life, not even on that beach the night he proposed to her, has he come so hard or for so long. He lies on her, holding her, listening to the storm raging outside. How can the storm still be this strong? He checks the play log on the immersion, and then the time on the clock... sixty-one minutes. All of this, the cuddling after their immersion, their fight, their savage fucking, all of it in sixty-one minutes. Considering that they spent a long time cuddling, plus the fight, he assumes he and Giselle must have fucked for only five or ten minutes, but it felt like hours. He looks at her, her eyes closed, a faint smile of contentment on her lips. Lips that he begins to kiss lovingly.

Rick's lips begin to caress on her own, a kiss that she somehow finds the strength to return. She can sense the tug of sleep, all her frustration and tension burned away in the fire of passion. Her orgasm—orgasms—were more powerful than any she's ever experienced. As she and Rick kiss, another lightning bolt sizzles in with a terrifying roar, causing the house lights to blink once and then go out.

"Jesus," she mutters, "This is some storm."

He stops his gentle kissing, looking into her eyes in the dim afternoon light. "Yes, and the weather is bad too," he says with small smile as he pulls his now softening penis from her.

She smiles again, her eyes slowly closing, feeling safe and protected with him holding her. "I'm so sorry I hurt you," she murmurs, forcing her eyes open and touching his face. "Why'd you do that? Why'd you pick a fight? Why didn't your stop me? Why'd you just take it when I was hitting you?"

"Because I love you," he says gently. "Your anger was eating you from the inside. You needed to let it go and you needed a target."

"Did I hurt you?" she asks, realizing how stupid that sounds even as she says it.

"Not too much... but you have a hell of a left cross," he admits, tonguing his swelling lip. As much as he's enjoying the feeling of her skin against his own, he rolls onto his back, freeing her to move.

"Can you forgive me?" she asks softly, crawling into his arms.

"Already done."

They are quiet for a time. "What are we going to do until the power comes on?"

"I do have one suggestion," he says, his voice full of meaning.

"Do you think you can?" she asks, calling his bluff.

As much as he would like to try, he knows there's no hope. "No," he says, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Good," she says slowly, sleep beginning to win its battle with her. "I want this night to end right here, just like this."

He grabs a handful of the bed covering, pulling it over them to keep them warm in their nakedness. As she relaxes into sleep, he reflects on their evening, wishing they'd made an immersion recording so he could experience again and again the most incredible sex of his life. He sighs deeply, content even as he realizes they haven't eaten. He doesn't know the time, but it's certainly before seven o'clock. Still time for a light dinner if the power comes back on soon. And if not, this isn't the first time that he and Giselle have made love instead of eating, feeding the soul instead of the body, and it probably won't be the last.

As the storm's fury begins to subside, the rolls of thunder receding into the distance, he decides the next time a storm like this blows up, he and Giselle are going outside for a romp in the grass, and he will make a recording of that. And if she didn't want to do it... well, they might just have to strip down and fight it out. He smiles at the thought, his eyes becoming heavy as his own weariness begins to pull at him. He lies still, holding her, her rhythmic breathing the loudest sound in silent house as he listens to the dying storm. He feels sleep taking him.

"I love you Giselle" he murmurs in the moments sleep takes him, a tiny smile on his lips as darkness closes over him.