She can’t even respond, just breathes through her mouth. She’s hot and soft around my dick, but I wish like fuck I could lose the condom, the last barrier between us. I draw back and push in again, watching her expression like she holds the answer to every question I’ve ever wondered.
Her face screws up.
“Am I hurting you?” I ask.
“No.”
She drops her head back on the tile as I let her have it. Her moans echo through the bathroom, stealing the last of my control. I’ve wanted this too long. I’m going to come already, and she’s not there yet. I fuck her until I’m right at the edge, then pinch the base of the condom to keep it in place as I slide out of her.
She doesn’t move a muscle. I lower her leg and rest it on the ledge of the tub.
“Wha . . .” she mumbles. “What are you . . .”
I get to my knees while she tries to form a sentence. I lick her long and hard, and her body shudders. I take my two favorite fingers and slip them up inside her, fucking her with them until she pulls my hair hard enough to make me growl. I work her clit with my mouth, but to make her feel better than she ever has before, I have to make this a full-body experience. I turn her by her hips so she’s facing the tile. “Support yourself with the wall,” I say.
She leans her forearms onto the tile and juts her ass out. I grip her cheeks and lick her pussy front to back. So far back that the tip of my tongue teases her anus.
She wiggles, reaching back to try and push my face away. “Finn,” she gasps.
“Save the squirming for when my tongue’s actually inside you,” I suggest. I pin her wrists to her hips and spread her ass cheeks with my thumbs. I rim her asshole good and fast as she writhes. I don’t know if she’s fighting me, but Idoknow she’s enjoying my mouth in the one place it shouldn’t be, whether she admits it or not.
I massage her clit until her legs give out, and she drops to her knees. I wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her back to my front, and finger-fuck her from behind until she comes, crying out to the ceiling.
I stand, pick her up by her waist, and put her over my shoulder. She might be spent, nothing more than a bag of bones, but I’m still painfully hard and swollen. I shut off the water, step carefully out of the tub, and carry her into my room. After tossing her onto her back, I grab the comforter in my fists and yank her to the edge of the bed.
“You can’t do that,” she wheezes, her chest rising and falling.
I half smile. “Already did, Hals. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you enjoyed it.” I part her knees and run my hands up her inner thighs. “I won’t tell anyone you’re just as kinky as me. That your pussy’s better than heaven. That you kissed me after I ate your ass.”
“I didn’t—”
I bend over her, and she whips her head side to side, her lips sealed. I can’t help it. I start to laugh. I don’t care about kissing her with my dirty mouth, but I don’t want to traumatize her. I right myself, grabbing a pillow to elevate her hips, putting her in a position I think will be comfortable enough for me to take her good and hard.
She watches me and breathes. Just breathes. She might’ve short-circuited with that orgasm, and I plan to give her another one.
When she’s ready, I put my hands under her ass and pull her hips up to meet mine. I keep her in that position while I slide into her and get to work making a pretty good case for her second orgasm. She reaches above her. Her tits go high and bouncy while she grabs at nothing, as if trying to hold on. I drop her back on the pillow, fold over her, and angle deeper. I pin one of her flailing arms by her head, then do the same with the other. I restrain her and fuck her and have my fill of her and I’m just lost enough that I’m not sure if she comes, but I think she does, so I finally release, exploding like a volcano that’s been stopped up for centuries.
Either she’s shaking, or I am, or we both are. Water drips from my hair to her chest. It could be sweat. My arms feel weak, so I drop onto my elbows and finally rest my body on top of hers. I’m sure I’m crushing her, but she wraps one arm around my back.
With that one gesture, I feel a wave of guilt for how I just handled her.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“For what?”
“I don’t know.” I’ve been told by some of my partners that I can be dominant in the bedroom, but that I’m a lover first. I’m worried that right now, I got so carried away, I didn’t take good enough care of her. I try to get up, but my muscles are liquid. “It was too much.”
“It was perfect,” she says.
I sigh, too beat to argue over something I want to be wrong about. “Good.”
After a few seconds, I’m able to move off of her. I stand, but she stays splayed out on the bed, sunken into the mattress. “Did you come again?” I ask.
She just nods.
“Can you move?”
She shakes her head.
