“No. Just the opposite. You feel—your cock is perfect.”
“Don’t speak that way. You’ll make me spend from that alone.”
She laughed and the vibrations made the muscles in her pelvis slide against his length. He hissed at the sensation.
“I need to move,” he groaned, “I am not sure how long I will last.”
“Please, I need you to.”
And then he was moving and it was heaven. He was as well-suited to her as she remembered. The delicious slide of him sent her muscles tensing, responding to him.
Above her, he gritted his teeth, his expression somewhere between pleasure and agony.
He stopped.
“What is the matter?” she asked, panting from the effort of speaking and having him create such intoxicating pressure inside of her.
“I am going to spend. It is too good.”
“I want you to spend.” And it was true—they had all night to see to her pleasure. What mattered was not her orgasm, when or how it occurred, but being close to him. “I just want to be with you—like this. It does not matter to me. You feel so good.”
Even now, she could feel her core pulsing against him, tantalized by his cock. She flexed her pelvic muscles to chase more of that sensation and he cried out.
“Don’t.”
“It is alright,” she murmured, pulling him down towards her, so her breasts made contact with his chest. “Relax.”
He murmured something incoherent in response and she brought her hand to the back of his head. She opened her legs wider and then kissed him, rocking back and forth against him.
He moaned against her mouth, not breaking the kiss, but he resumed their tupping as he did so. He brought himself slowly, rhythmically, in and out of her, and the pleasure in her heightened. He felt so good, hard and heavy between her legs, the perfect weight.
As he drove, she moved one hand to his buttocks, helping him to do so. When he increased his pace and went deeper, she had to speak—to tell him what he did to her.
But he spoke first.
“You are heaven. Your pussy is perfect. So wet and so tight.”
Her innermost muscles clenched at the raw words and he let out a ragged cry.
Then, once more, he stopped.
He looked into her face.
“You know how much I love you, don’t you, Olivia? There can be no one else for me, ever, but you. You know, that don’t you?”
It was so strange. She had not understood that he felt so intensely for her before tonight, despite his proposal. She hadn’t understood him, then, not fully. But she saw the truth now. How they had misunderstood each other. How they had lost their way with each other but how his commitment to her, his sureness in his love for her, had brought them back together.
“Yes,” she gasped. “I love you, too.”
He dipped down and took her mouth into a deep kiss.
And then he was driving into her, his pace a frenzy, the pleasure in her building and building.
“I am going to come,” she said, and then she was, her muscles clenching and releasing. He jerked back with a cry and then she felt his hot seed against her stomach. As she came, she missed the hard length of him, but she gloried in the feeling of his semen against her and the sight of him milking himself, his eyes narrowed to slits of pleasure.
It was so gratifying to know that she had given that to him.
*
