Or being born again.
She’s so goddamn tight. So wet. So blistering hot.
I try to ask her if she’s good, tell her how fucking amazing she feels. But the clasp her pussy has on my cock is the same one lassoing my throat, my voice. I can’t speak. Can’t move. Can’t do anything but fuckingfeel.
And if I thought her silken, muscled clasp on my fingers was pure pleasure, wrapped around my dick, it’s euphoric. Her sex quivers around me, and it’s like tiny kisses over my flesh, sending electrical spasms down my legs, to the soles of my feet, and then back up.
“This pussy,” I grind out. “Goddamn.”
Releasing her hand, I study her face for any hint of discomfort. I spy lust in her hazel eyes, in the skin pulled taut over her cheekbones, in the parting of her swollen lips. But no distress. No pain.
Thank. Fuck.
I inhale a breath and wait… wait for her to move. To take me. Fuck me.
She spreads a hand around the base of my throat and flattens another on my chest. Eyes not leaving mine, she rises up, easing off my dick, and it practically screams in protest. Yeah, this pussy is that perfect, that… comforting. When only my cockhead remains inside her, I restrain myself from impatientlythrusting upward, stretching her, branding her. I want to mold her, break her in so only my dick will satisfy her. Only with me will she feel whole, complete.
And maybe I’m fucking projecting.
Eshe sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and drops down my length, plunging me back inside her, and my mind and body damn near shatter with the exquisite pleasure. With her eyes at half-mast, she rides me, taking me over and over. Just like I wanted, like I needed. It requires every bit of restraint not to take over, to sublimate my urge to ram into her until I’m spinning into orgasm. But more than an orgasm, I need her to take me there. I hunger for her lead, her control, because in her hands, I’ve never felt… safer.
I shake my head, hard, as if I can physically dislodge that thought. That ridiculous, dangerous thought. Grunting, I focus on my Eshe, on that silken grasp of her pussy, on the flex of her thighs, the slight tremble of her stomach, the fierce pleasure hardening her face. I lower my gaze to where we connect, fascinated, fucking enraptured by the sight of my flesh shuttling in and out of her… Watching her flesh welcoming me… seeing my length covered in the wetness I’m eliciting from her body… it shoves me toward the edge, and I’m grabbing onto the shreds of my control, my sanity.
Eshe falls forward, her hands slapping against my shoulders, staring down at me. Her mouth works, and seconds later, a flash of silver appears on her lips. A razor. That’s what she went to the bathroom for.
My body clenches with anticipation, with hunger. I know what’s coming, and fuck, I crave it.
She bends her head over my chest, and it heaves up and down with my heavy breaths. The edge of the razor touches my skin but doesn’t pierce it. And she doesn’t move to cut me.
I know what she wants. And with my body strung as tight as a bow, my fucking bones damn near crying out for that dark sting, that bite, I surrender.
“Do it,” I snap. When she still doesn’t move, I growl. “Give it to me. Please.”
A low hum rumbles out of her, and in the next second, that sweet, hot pain sings through me. She cut me just under my collarbone. And before I can suck in a breath, she slices me again, right under the first.
I can’t contain my groan, don’t even try. She’s ripped me bare and shredded my pride. Fuck pride. I want more.
“More. More, goddammit.”
With another of those hums, she swipes the razor over my nipple, reopening the wound from days ago. Pleasure-pain so hot, so bright, it nearly consumes me, tears through me, and I arch into it. I clench my teeth to imprison the hoarse cry scrambling up my throat. She’s slicing me and steadily fucking me, gloving me in that slick, searing heat. It’s enough to break me, send me careening into insanity. And I’d welcome it.
Eshe plucks the razor from her lips and covers the seeping cut, sucking on it, rolling her tongue over it.
“Fuck.”I grab her hips and, unable to stop myself, slam up into her.
Her chuckle vibrates against my chest, and she lifts her head, mouth stained with my blood. Leaning forward, she kisses me, sharing my very essence with me, and I lick every drop from her lips and tongue. This is primal, maybe even sacrilegious.
And I fucking love it.
She straightens, then falls forward, curling her fingers around the wooden headboard and bowing her smaller frame over mine. With a feral snarl, she rides me, bruising our bodies as they crash together.
The room fills with the sounds of our wet skin smacking, the softer but equally erotic suction of her sex releasing and accepting me. Of her moans and my grunts. Our bodies are in combat, and neither of us is retreating. We’re both racing, battling, straining…
I reach up, tweak a large, distended nipple, then stroke lower,not stopping until I sweep a firm, tight circle around her clit. One. Two. Three swipes. Then I pinch it.
“Oh fuck.” Eshe screams, throwing her head back. The tendons in her neck stand out in sharp relief; her thighs tremble around my hips.
And she breaks.
