I brought my hand to my mound, parting the folds to trace the spot where his shaft moved in me and then up, up to the place that wanted more attention. "Pinch my nipples again. You're good at that."
He brought one hand up to my breast, quickly snagging my nipple between his knuckles like he did that night when he had me up against the sink. It hurt in the most terrific way and I could barely hear my thoughts, let alone decide what to think. The only things that seemed right were working my clit harder and harder, screaming every time he let up a little on my nipple, and letting him pound me like this even though I knew I'd feel it everywhere tomorrow.
"You're getting close," he said, his lips on my neck.
"I don't need you explaining my vagina to me."
"Should I say that the next time you tell me my cock is fat?"
Heat started washing down my spine, circling my legs, unraveling in my center. "That was a compliment, not a status report."
His hold on my nipple turned aggressive, like he was trying to determine how far I'd let him go with this. Maybe I would've enforced a limit or stopped him if things were different but the warm, loose flutters inside me turned wild with that assertive touch of his. They went crazy as they expanded and spread out from my core into my limbs. I felt it in my face, my cheeks a little too hot and my lips tingling. It was overwhelming. It hurt in a desperate, needy way—that same old lustiness that made me say the filthiest things, it hurt like that. Like I'd die if I didn't catch hold of this sensation and send it somewhere because my body could not contain this, it simply could not.
I couldn't hear anything but my own rushing pulse and when I looked down to watch him abuse my nipple, I caught sight of his legs pumping between mine. I could see the stretch of muscles under the dark hair and the silvery lines of old scars. There was something about watching his body move as I felt the product of that effort while his hips slapped my ass, his cock dragged against every sensitive inch of me.
"You're not done yet," he said. "Don't check out on me now."
"I am notchecking out," I said, my words barely more than a slur.
Linden closed his fingers around my wrist, pulling my hand away from my clit. "Hold on to me." He raised my arm, brought my hand to the back of his neck. "Let's see about taking care of you now."
I tried to protest. There was a lot of protest in me. I had things to say and I intended to say them. But also, when he covered my mound with two thick, blunt fingers and pinched the same way he was pinching my nipple, I lost track of those protests.
He continued pumping into me, a little more reckless now, a little more erratic. He let out a low growl as he slammed into me at an angle that did glorious things for everyone involved, and his teeth were on my neck. "I told you we could do better."
I could only murmur-groan in response. There was no way I could speak and make sense right now. I couldn't tell whether I was climbing toward a third orgasm or the second was spectacularly long and complex. I didn't actually care but it gave me something to think about as I tried to pull back the tension, the twisted-muscle clench that lived in my hips and belly, the one that only seemed to vanish when I imagined a big ball of rope methodically unknotting itself.
"I need—" I didn't know what I wanted to say. I just knew I neededsomething.
"Do you have a list about your orgasms?"
"Wh-what?"
"You make lists for everything," he panted. "I'm just wondering if you have one on how to make your cunt happy."
"Are you looking for some suggestions?"
He shook his head against my shoulder. "No, baby, I don't want the list. I want you to forget it ever existed. Rip it the fuck out."
All these sensations—his cock as he ground against me, his beard on my neck, his fingers holding my clit captive—they dragged me down as I reached for the edge of this orgasm. "Why?"
"Because that shit is over. Because I want the wild, screeching girl who can come on my cock twice without quitting. The one who doesn't think, doesn't plan a fucking thing. The one who wants it rowdy and messy and dirty. I want to be rowdy and messy and dirtywithher."
"Oh my god," I whispered. "I want you to come all over me."
"Yes."
"I want you to eat my pussy after you come inside me."
"Mmm. That's it, precious girl. That's it."
"Would you? Really?" I asked, the doubt and shame prickling up my spine.
"As often as you wanted."
I didn't know if we were playing. I didn't really care. "Fuck, fuck, fuck.I want it."
He released his hold on my mound and that rush was enough to grab at my release but thenhe slapped me. He slapped my folds with barely enough force to consider it a true slap but my body did not care about such technicalities. No, my body was very busy learning how to have a catastrophic orgasm with the help of another person.
