He sucks harder, and I feel it everywhere. My toes curl. My thighs shake. I’m so close. Nearly…nearly…
Then he pulls back again.
“You’re going to kill me,” I whisper.
“Easy,” he says. “I’ve got you. Is this what you need?”
I feel the head of his cock press against my entrance. He doesn’t push in. Just holds there, letting me feel him.
“Make me come,” I beg in a small voice that is laced with desperation.
He pushes forward, entering me slowly. The stretch is immediate, that burn mixed in with pleasure in a way that makes my eyes roll back. He’s so big. So thick. I feel every inch as he works himself inside me.
I want to cry out. I want it so badly I have to press my lips together to keep from doing it.
“Breathe,” he reminds me, his hands gripping my hips.
I do, forcing myself to relax as he pushes deeper. The burn intensifies, but it’s good. In and out he thrusts. Slowly…so slowly. So good. By the time he’s fully seated inside me, I’m panting again.
“Fuuuuuck,” he groans.
He stays still for a moment, letting me adjust. Then he starts to move.
His first thrust is slow, almost gentle. But by the second and third, he’s picking up speed. The table creaks beneath us with each thrust, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out.
He finds a rhythm, his hips snapping forward, driving deep. The angle is perfect, hitting that spot inside me that makes me crazy.
“Right there. Don’t stop.”
He grunts softly.
He keeps going, hitting that spot over and over. I’m getting wetter with each thrust. There are wet suctioning noises witheach stroke. Every nerve ending is on fire. I’m close. Right on the edge.
The table makes a scraping noise as it shifts slightly across the floor.
We both freeze.
I hold my breath, listening for any sound from the hallway. From Falkor’s room.
Nothing.
Grim starts moving again, but this time he stays deep, using short, punchy thrusts that keep the table from moving too much but still hit my G-spot.
I’m really having to work to keep from making noises. It’s tough. Almost impossible.
He keeps that rhythm, and it’s driving me insane. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through me, building and building. I’m so wet I can feel it running down my thighs.
Then he slides one hand between my legs from behind.
I think he’s going to touch my clit, give me that final push I need to come. But he doesn’t. His fingers slide through my wetness, gathering it, but he doesn’t touch that aching bundle of nerves.
“Please,” I whimper.
“Not yet,” he says again.
He keeps fucking me with those slow, steady, punchy thrusts. Staying deep. Working that spot inside me. But not quite giving me enough to push me over the edge.
It’s torture. Exquisite torture.
