When she comes suddenly it is explosive. Her walls pulse around my fingers in strong rhythmic contractions that squeeze me tight. Her release floods my mouth with warm waves as her hips buck wildly against my face. I lick her through it with slow gentle strokes to draw out every lingering tremor and her breath comes in ragged, uneven gasps.
"Good girl," I whisper while pressing soft kisses to the soft skin of her inner thighs. "Look at you, all flushed and perfect."
I kiss my way back up her body, taking time to trace the delicate curve of her hip with my tongue. I nip lightly at the sensitive skin of her stomach as her muscles jump under the touch.
When I reach her mouth I kiss her deeply, letting her taste herself on my lips and tongue. She kisses back hungrily with her hands roaming over my back in urgent needy strokes.
I am still hard and aching against her thigh. The pressure is almost painful now as I pull back to look at her. She nods slowly with her eyes heavy from lingering pleasure and fresh desire. Her lips are parted and swollen from our kisses.
"Ready for more?" I ask softly while cupping her cheek. I brush a strand of hair from her face. "I want to let you feel every inch of my dick sliding into you."
I shove my boxers down and kick them off as she tears her sleep shirt off. My cock is thick and leaking with the head slick from pre-cum as I settle between her thighs. I rub the head through her folds to coat myself in her abundant wetness while the heat of her core tempts me to plunge in prematurely.
The slick glide makes us both hiss at the intimate contact when I do finally thrust forward and Noemi whimpers softly as her hips tilt up to seek more. I push in slowly, inch by agonizing inch, feeling her stretch around me with a velvet grip. When I'm fully inside I pause to let her adjust while watching her face.
Her eyes flutter shut as her lips part on a quiet moan. The sensation is overwhelming. There are no words to describe how incredible this feels.
"You feel so fucking good wrapped around me," I tell her.
She's tight and hot and perfect and every subtle pulse of her inner muscles draws me in deeper.
I start moving after a long moment with languid thrusts that make her gasp each time I bottom out, rolling my hips in a deliberate grind. Her legs wrap around my waist as she pulls me closer, heels digging into my lower back while she meets my movements.
"Take it all," I say against her ear. "You take me so well. Look at you, taking every inch like a good girl."
I pick up the pace gradually while thrusting harder, and she meets me on every stroke with her hips lifting to take me deeper. Then I reach between us and rub her clit in tight circles, matching the rhythm of my thrusts with my fingers slick from her arousal. Her nails dig into my shoulders and it only heightens my pleasure.
"That's it," I growl. "Come on my cock. Squeeze me tight."
I fuck her harder with my hips slamming forward. When her fingers begin clawing faster, etching grooves into my flesh, I know she's close. The way she grips me, the frantic expression on her face as she whimpers, "Fuck… now…" It's all too much for me.
Her coil snaps and she jerks and writhes under me, arching up then shaking her head. Her walls flutter and spasm around my dick in intense pulses that build pressure low in my gut so intense I think my balls will explode. The squeeze pulls me over the edge as I bury myself deep.
I spill inside her with a low groan and feel every throb as I empty myself into her. My hips pump slower and her teeth sink into my shoulder as I drape myself over her body until her spasms stop and my body is calm.
I stay there for a long moment while breathing hard against her neck. My hips remain pressed tight to hers as the last aftershocks fade. When I finally pull out slowly I watch my cum drip from her swollen pussy. I roll to the side and pull her against me, kissing her temple while our breathing slows to a steady rhythm. She curls into my chest and I hold her there.
She's asleep within minutes, and I wait for sleep to come, but it doesn't. My mind won't shut off no matter how tired my body is, no matter how badly I want to stop thinking.
I don't know what I'm doing with this woman. One minute I want to strangle her and the next I want to bury myself inside her. She makes me crazy, pushes every button I have and then looks at me with those eyes like she's daring me to do something about it.
I hate her sometimes. Or—I'm pretty sure I do. The way she questions everything, the way she pushes back, the way she looks at me like she can see right through all my walls to the mess underneath.
But then she falls asleep in my arms like she trusts me, and I feel like the most powerful man alive. It's a terrifying sensation but exhilarating all at once, and I'm not really sure how to handle all that power or fear. No one ever told me I'd feel like this or what to do when I did.
Carefully, trying not to wake her, I slide away from her body and sit up on the edge of the bed. I need a smoke. because I need something to do with my hands that isn't touching her.
The cigar from my coat pocket is slightly crushed but still good enough to smoke, and I light it with the hotel matches and take a long drag that burns all the way down. The smoke curls up toward the ceiling, and I watch it drift while Noemi snores softly behind me.
The events of the past few weeks have shifted my entire life. I don't even know what to do with myself anymore. I look over my shoulder at her and watch her sleeping for a moment, wondering if she feels this same upheaval and confusion but my eyes catch aglimpse of the journal she writes in. When I covered her earlier, I took it off her chest and laid it on her night stand. Now I"m curious as to what sort of things she writes about.
I've seen her writing in it before, hunched over with her hair falling in her face, scribbling away in that neat handwriting of hers. I probably shouldn't invade her privacy and read it, though ethical standards never stopped me from doing something like that before. Still, I'd like to think I have enough brains to allow her that modicum of respect, but curiosity wins out, and I rise and walk to the nightstand and pick it up, then don my boxers and walk to the chair across the room to finish my cigar.
The pages fall open to where the pen holds her place, and I angle the book toward the light from the bathroom so I can make out her handwriting. It's neat and small, slanting slightly to the right, and I have to squint to read it in the dim glow and I'm surprised by what I read.
Noemi has filled these pages with flowing paragraphs of positive things she's lived, and the most recent things she's written in this journal of hers are about me. It's humbling to pick up someone's private journal and read their praise of you when they never say those things aloud to your face. But she's filled several pages of this book with her observations about me and a few of them shock me.
She likes me, and she doesn't know how to handle those feelings, much the same way I'm feeling.
