She shatters beneath my hold.
The orgasm rips through her with enough force to bow her back off the chaise, her whole body going rigid as waves of pleasure crash over her. I keep my mouth on her through all of it, licking her through the aftershocks, drawing out every last tremor.
She's still twitching when I pull back, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed. Beautiful. Absolutely fucking beautiful.
"One," I say, and watch her brow furrow in confusion.
"What?"
"That's one." I press a kiss to her oversensitive clit, and she jerks violently. "We're not done."
"I can't—" She's shaking her head, but her body is already responding, her hips tilting toward my mouth. "I can't possibly?—"
"You can." I slide two fingers inside her, feeling how tight she is, how wet. "And you will. Because I want you to."
I work her with my fingers and my mouth, building her up again before she's even fully come down from the first orgasm. She's so sensitive now that every touch makes her gasp, every lick makes her moan. I vary the pressure, the speed, reading her body like a map I've memorized.
The second orgasm is harder than the first, tearing through her with a violence that makes her whole body convulse. She's crying now and the sight of it makes an animalistic and primal feeling roar to life in my chest.
Mine. She's mine. Every tear, every moan, every shudder of pleasure—all of it belongs to me.
"Two," I murmur against her thigh. "One more, baby. Give me one more."
"I can't." She's sobbing openly now, her hands scrabbling at the velvet. "I can't, it's too much, I can't?—"
"You can." I curl my fingers inside her, finding that spot that makes her see stars. "You can, because you're mine, and I say you can."
I press down on her g-spot while sucking hard on her clit, and she detonates so fucking quickly.
This time there's no scream. The pleasure is so intense it steals her voice, leaving her silent and shaking, her mouth open in a soundless cry. I feel her pussy clamp down on my fingers in rhythmic waves, and then the gush of wetness against my palm, and eventually her entire body goes limp as the orgasm finally releases her.
Three.
I withdraw my fingers slowly, gently, and press one last kiss to her inner thigh. She doesn't react—I'm not sure she's even conscious of me anymore. She's floating somewhere beyond thought, beyond language, beyond anything except sensation.
Exactly where I wanted her.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and move up her body, stretching out beside her on the chaise. She's still trembling, little aftershocks rippling through her at random intervals. Her eyes are closed, her face slack with pleasure.
I brush the hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "You did so well," I murmur. "So fucking perfect."
Her eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, then slowly finding my face. She looks wrecked—lips swollen, cheeks tear-stained, skin flushed from chest to forehead.
She looks like mine.
"How do you feel?" I ask, tracing my finger along her jaw.
"I don't—" She has to swallow twice before she can speak. "I don't have words."
"Then don't use them." I lean in and kiss her softly, letting her taste herself on my lips. "Just feel."
She melts into the kiss, her body curving toward mine instinctively. I can feel the heat of her against my clothed body, the way her nipples drag across my chest, the way her hand fumbles at my waistband.
"I want—" She breaks the kiss to look at me, and there's desperation in her eyes. "I need to feel you."
Fuck. How am I supposed to say no to that?
I've been hard for hours, my cock straining against my pants since the moment she awoke. Every moan she's made, every time she's begged, every orgasm I've wrung from her body—it's all been building toward this moment.
