“That depends on your performance, Devil.”
A sly grin breaks free and his eyes light up with a competitive fire. Dragging my ass back in the air, he positions me on all fours and stares me down in the mirror.
Smack!
His hand makes contact with the round globes of my ass and a purr rings out of my mouth.
Smack!
“Do you like being punished, darling?”
I wiggle my ass a little bit higher and am rewarded with another slap. Cum pools around my slit, thick liquid that drips down my legs and onto my bedsheets like a painting I’d love to frame.
“You’re so fucking wet.”
Christopher groans, sliding a finger and then his cock back into my pussy. The extra girth increases the pressure, a pressure that transitions into pleasure when he strums a thumb along my clit.
He fucks me slowly, dragging his cock all the way out before thrusting back in. Sweat trickles down a maze of tattoos, dark and violent pieces that scream their way across his body.
I watch him through the mirror, admiring the stories told through the ink on his skin.
Christopher is one of those puzzles that grows more complex the closer you look. The art shaping his image and the secrets written along his skin offer only whispers of the past, bits and pieces that leave you dangling just like the key around his neck.
“You’re fucking me so nice and hard, baby.”
My praise has a flush darkening his face, an adorable look of delight that has my own enjoyment increasing.
I like my partners to be reactive. To my touch, to my words, to the way my body wraps around them. Pleasure and pain is meant to be shared, and there is no better place to share that than my queen bed.
Reaching between my legs, I wrap my hand around the base of his cock. A strangled sound escapes Christopher’s throat when I start to squeeze, increasing the speed of his thrusts and the stroke of his thumb.
“Oh, fuck.Fuck.”
His thrusts grow fast and sloppy, his strokes rough and desperate as he tries to get me off before he does. It’s a surprisingalbeit unnecessary gesture, one which I have not experienced before with a man.
Women, yes.
But never a man.
The hard press of his chest bears down on me, warmth spilling from his body into my own as he pinches my clit hard enough to make me cry out. The orgasm rolls over me, tightening and releasing every molecule in my body.
It’s the calm I chase, not so much the climax. The smooth sailing after the storm, the few minutes of bliss where I can lie undisturbed.
Eyes closed to the outside world.
Mind shut off from the memories bubbling up inside.
Christopher finishes with a few more cuss words and vigorous thrusts before he falls limp beside me. His weight indents the bed, forcing my body to shift towards his. I keep my eyes closed and lean into the warmth radiating from his skin, a welcome sensation I haven’t felt in far too long.
When I finally open my eyes, guard up and mask solidly in place, I find him staring at me. Staring with a slight grin on his face, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.
“You’re fucking amazing, Calista.”
His eyes are glazed with lust, the endorphins pushed to the absolute max.
There is nothing quite as fickle as a man’s post nut opinion.
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Devil.”
