“Not the first time I’ve heard that.” I paused. “But stop distracting me.”
I pushed a finger into her, watching her face.
She gasped, and I just about lost it again. “Feel okay?” I asked, adding another finger and pumping them smoothly in and out. She was adjusting well and wetter than ever thanks to all of my cum leaking out of her.
She nodded. I watched my hand work her over, my dick somehow growing hard again in record time.
“I need you again,” I moaned, looking up at her face. “Is it too much?” I was rubbing her clit as I spoke.
At least I got her off once before I flipped her over and mounted her from behind. I rutted to my wicked little heart’s content, hands holding her breasts as I, at last, found a smooth rhythm that lasted more than thirty fucking seconds.
I still lost it at the end even then, the orgasm surprising me again, my cock jerking out cum while I was mid-stroke. I bottomed out and emptied deep, pushing her face flat to the bed as I rubbed every bit of my seed into her overflowing pussy, humping her into the mattress until I realized what I was doing, (which took quite a while) pulled out and flipped her to make sure she had enough air.
She seemed a bit dazed but otherwise unharmed.
I held her for a very long time afterward, staring at the ceiling while she dozed peacefully, and my mind was full of lovely chaos.
Sex was supposed to be fun and uncomplicated.
A pleasurable, mindless pastime.
Whatever happened back there had been too intense for fun.
It held too many ingredients to be uncomplicated.
Affection, reverence, lust, obsession, compulsion, need, longing, addiction, compatibility.
Intimacy. Devotion.
I knew all of these were worrisome developments for my lifestyle and peace of mind in general, but at that moment I was just too delectably sated, too entirely content to care.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I’D ALWAYS HAD a healthy sex drive, but after that night it sped into a higher fucking gear than even I knew existed.
I’d never been so insatiable, and more exceptional, the object for that need only had one target.
I’d never wanted anyone or anything the way I wanted her and having more of her only seemed to make that symptom more acute.
I tried not to think about it, which was actually pretty easy being that my brain was addled with lust nearly every waking hour.
She was toasty warm and naked in my arms when I roused the next morning. I had her cradled against me, my chest to her back as though even in sleep I’d kept her close.
I eased my hips back. My poker hard dick had been trying find its way inside wherever it could without my active permission.
She was dead asleep, deeper than I’d ever seen her. I’d used her to exhaustion, past all good sense or reason, and I wasn’t done.
We were both covered in a sheet and I pulled it off, easing her onto her back. The way her soft, opulent body rolled over bonelessly was a perverse drug for me. I sat up, parted her thighs and just looked at her.
She was so lovely, pink and swollen, and all mine.
I moved down the bed, between her legs, bent her knees up and parted her flesh, easing her open with my fingers. Yep, something about this exact cunt had captured me fast, and I couldn’t even make myself want to fight its hold.
I leaned very close to her sex and blew my warm breath over her flesh, eyes aimed up at her.
She shivered and shifted, rousing a bit at last. I lightly touched my tongue to her clit, watched her breasts quiver, then went to work.
I brought her out of sleep by eating her out, an act of both rapt atonement and repentant fixation.
When I came up for air I said, “I’ve made you come and had my cock inside you for most of the night. Now we just need to sync those two things up and we’ll be gold.”
She shook her head but said, “Okay,” she blew out a breath, “why don’t you show me what you got, tall boy?”
I could tell it was all bravado, she was sore, I’d worked her over good, but I had to go and look again anyway, opening her folds and studying her carefully. “I need to be inside of you again, but I seem to lose my mind every time I get in there. I need to figure out what’s going wrong before I really do fuck you raw.”
“On a plus side, that’s the only time I’ve ever seen you stop talking when you weren’t dead asleep.”
“When my dick was in you? Before I’ve come? Well that’s easy to explain. Your cunt took me to another dimension where I lost the ability to speak English.”
“I forgot you were a poet, too.”
I licked my lips. “Did you forget I was silver-tongued as well?”
Her answer was my name, cried out as my tongue played her clit like it was a perfectly tuned violin.
She was still a bit senseless when I mounted her. She was relaxed and very wet, but I still pushed into her with difficulty. She hadn’t gotten less small over the night and I hadn’t gotten less large.
Stretching her was a delicious experience for me, but even as I wallowed in it I watched her face, worried I was hurting her again. Still, I couldn’t find the voice to ask her. She was right. I couldn’t talk with my dick inside of her.
I rubbed her clit with one hand, the other pushing her leg high as I rooted for a more generous angle.
She moaned and shifted, just the slightest amount, but it sent me back into that mad place, and I rammed home and without pause started fucking her in earnest. It was pure muscle memory that kept my fingers working her clit, the other hand flying to grip a ripe tit lovingly, pinning her one sky high leg up by hooking it over my shoulder.
I actually got her off that time before I jarred deep and shot my load. “I’m never going back,” I panted into her ear. “Condoms are bullshit.”
I regretted saying it. We both knew it was her and not the lack of condoms I was obsessed with, but she played it off well.
“I wouldn’t know,” she said lightly, “I’ve only been ridden bareback, neener neener.”
I laughed and kissed her until she had to push me away, both off and out of her. I swear I would have spent the day there.
“I have a good long-term bet lined up for you,” she told me sometime later as she walked into my office.
Mac was on my lap and gave a happy yap when she heard Ro’s voice. I held her up so she could look at her mama.
“A punishment, you mean,” I corrected her just to be contrary. “I actually like John Denver music now, you impudent minx.”
“I knew you would,” she said smugly, smirked, and took Mac from me.
I stared at her, processed that bit of impertinence, opened my mouth, closed it.
Ignored what she said altogether.
Her smugness grew, the little brat, as soon as she saw I had no response. “Yes, a punishment,” she forged on, clearly feeling victorious. “This one will be for if you don’t make all of your goals for the upcoming fall season.”
“I’m listening,” I told her archly.
“You’re going to watch Christmas Hallmark movies with me in December.”
“Oh, God, no.”
“I know. It’s a real Greek fucking tragedy.”
“You’re not serious?”
“I’m dead serious.”