“That’s it. Ride me. Just like that.” His hands pull me more tightly against his flexing thigh and I luxuriate in another wave.
A hand slides up my back to fist the hair at the nape of my neck so he can guide my lips back to his greedy mouth. I’m completely lost in my body’s response to him, happy to grind away on him . . . until I’m not. Because I’m not going to come this way and the realization has me squirming and pleading with him.
“Scott,” I whimper. “Come on.” I push at his shoulders, desperately wanting him to at least undress.
His thigh flexes again and I moan loudly, tremors reaching all the way to my toes. “Come on what, Opal? Huh?”
God, he loves to taunt me when I’m like this. I know he gets off on controlling when and how often I come. The closer he takes me to finishing without letting me fall over the edge, the better he likes it. But the adrenaline of the night has made me jittery and I’m not willing to play his games tonight.
“Quit messing around, Scott,” I pant. “I want you inside me.”
“Is that right?”
Color me surprised when he relents almost immediately by sitting me on the edge of the bed and then pushing me to lie back. He follows me down, hovering over me, his eyes flinty with possession before attaching his mouth to my neck, nipping and licking and sucking his way down to my breasts. Latching on to a nipple, just the tip, exactly how I love it, he plays first with one side and then the other. All the while, I writhe and arch my back by pushing my heels down into the mattress. When my core bumps his clothed torso, I’ve had enough.
“Scott,” I whine. “Get your clothes off already.”
Finally. I watch him strip off his T-shirt, followed by his jeans, exposing all that beautiful skin and that incredible cock of his. My mouth waters at the sight of it bobbing, thick and hard.
I start wriggling my way farther up onto the mattress to make room for him, but he stills me with a hand to my thigh. I blink at him questioningly as he sinks to his knees on the floor and spreads my thighs wide to stare down hungrily at my pussy. My mind blanks . . . well at least until the first touch of his tongue, then I almost come out of my skin.
“Unhhhhh, fuck,” I cry, every muscle in my body bunching and straining, preparing to escape what I’m strung too tight to handle right now. But his hands clamp down on my thighs, telling me I’m not going anywhere, telling me I’m going to endure every second of him eating me out until he’s done with me.
“D-d-damn it,” I stutter as he forces my hips back to the bed while his lips and tongue devour me. “Scott,” I plead, railing in the back of my mind against this. He knows that, as a rule, I don’t find this relaxing. To me, it’s a bit like touching a hot stove or plunging into an ice bath. Any way you slice it, it’s too intense, especially when I’m already on edge.
“Enou–,”
He silences me by slowly pushing two of his fingers into me. The deliciously relentless back and forth slide pulls me apart, piece by piece, along with his lips suckling at my clit, until eventually he succeeds in flipping that universal primordial switch that floods me with a crescendo of ecstasy.
I’m still coming, still in the throes of the high when he drags his mouth up my body to swallow my gasps, letting me taste myself.
“There you go,” he whispers into my lips, still holding his fingers impossibly deep inside of me, “squeeze me tight.” He sucks on my tongue as his thumb brushes my overly-sensitive clit, setting off an incredible aftershock.
I ride it out, completely overwhelmed and barely lucid enough to register when he pulls away to get a condom.
An arm pushes under my shoulder and his fingers spread into the hair at the nape of my neck. Hauling me up the mattress, he settles himself between my thighs. His cradling of the base of my skull feels wonderful as does the way he runs the head of his dick through the slipperiness of my pussy. Anticipation vibrates down my spine when he nestles the head in exactly the right spot and then pulls my knee up along his hip.
“Open those pretty little eyes of yours, Opal,” he says, jostling my neck gently to get my attention. “Look at me. Want to watch you take me.” My eyes flutter open. “That’s it.” He pushes forward. The feel of him inexorably spearing into me has my mouth falling slack and my eyelids becoming heavy once again. “Uh, uh, uh,” he admonishes. “Open.” He increases the forward pressure when his ingress slows as it meets some resistance and I squirm. “None of that. We both know this beautiful pussy can take it all.”
His dirty words send a hard shot of added lust careening through me.
“You were made for me.”
He’s deep now, at that point where pleasure and discomfort always meet for that brief erotic moment before my body acquiesces to his.
“That’s my girl,” he moans, his forehead touching mine. “All of it.” The rough curls of his pubic hair press into my clit when he’s fully seated. We pant and nuzzle at each other. “Like heaven,” he whispers, kissing the side of my mouth. “You good?”
I feel my head nod within the cradle of his fingers.
“Mmmmm,” he hums. “Love your pussy twitching and jerking to adjust for me. So fucking hot.”
Damn, that mouth of his. His possessive, domineering streak in bed when the right combination of buttons is pushed has been a most welcome surprise in our relationship.
With the incredible sensation of him filling me, I breathe him in, drawing my nails down his back until I have the firm globes of his ass cupped in my palms. He starts to move and I’m done for.
Scott
If there’s anything better in life than fucking Ellie, I’ve yet to find it. Nothing even comes close in my opinion. The heat of her pussy snug around my dick on every stroke is like nothing else and it almost has me forgetting that her douchebag of an ex broke into her place and announced he wanted her back.
On my next stroke, I grind against her clit. “I won’t give you up,” I rasp. She mewls, her chin lifting. The way her swollen flesh tries to hold me inside of her as I withdraw is almost as good as shoving back in. “I refuse. You’re not going anywhere.” My demanding tone has her pussy clenching. “Fuck,” I grunt, both exhilarated and dismayed to feel the echo of that clench in my balls.
“You couldn’t,” – she pants, I thrust – “get rid of me,” – again – “if you tried.”
“I hope not.” Another thrust. “Now come.”
Even if I know she doesn’t actually come on-demand, the illusion is a total trip for me – and her. It’s all just a question of timing. Her tells are subtle, but once I learned them, they became more obvious than a billboard drenched in neon lights; bared throat, arched back, tightening core, and those fingernails of hers digging into my ass. On their own, sure they signal arousal, but put them all together with her uneven breaths and her restless squirming and I’ve got my girl right on the threshold.
“Don’t make me tell you again,” I rasp harshly . . . or maybe it’s desperately, because she’s not the only one about to slide sideways into the bliss. My balls are so tight, so close to letting go that I’m light-headed with the anticipation.