"Bluebell, I hope that peach can cash this check."
"Oh, those biscuits are getting butterandjelly," she laughed, crossing the room quickly, hopping from foot to foot as she shimmied into the strap-on.
Lurielle wasted no time. The head of the goblin model sunk into him as she pressed her palms against his thighs. He was holding his own legs up, hands under his knees, making it easy for her. His cock was already leaking, already set to explode.
"Hold on, Bluebell. You forgot the most important part, darlin'."
The bullet vibrator sat in a pouch inside the panty, nestled directly against her clit. On every thrust into him, it pushed against her, pulling back on her downstroke. It was adelicioustorture, and an incentive to get moving.
She would never tire of this, either. Seeing him this way, splayed out for her, blood making his face hot. Khash grunted as she sunk in fully, and her eyes rolled back at that perfect vibration.
"Lurielle, I don't think either of us are going to last long."
He was right. She leaned forward, finding her rhythm. She was better at this than she used to be. Now, she knew how deep she needed to press to batter his prostate, knew how fast she needed to move to get his motor humming fully. She liked to tease him by withdrawing all the way out and then plunging back in fully, but she knew that wasn't the way to make him come. Hard, deep thrusts in rapid succession. That was the trick. The vibrator buzzed against her clit and her eyes fluttered.
"Darlin', you know how to take care of me better than anyone else in this world. If I didn't already love you so much, I would marry you just for the fuckin'."
Her rhythm faltered as she almost fell forward laughing, stabilizing herself on his thick thighs. He had begun to stroke his cock, and with her free hands, she cupped his big balls, squeezing and pulling, massaging each one as she hammered against his prostate.
"Are you going to come for me, Khash? Are you going to squeeze me tight?"
"Darling, you keep it up in —"
He never finished his empty threat. She surged forward, sliding against him, and his hips lifted, his thighs trembling. His cock spit up the first white rope of his release against his belly, thick and creamy, the second and third hitting his shoulder.
We're getting married, and everything is perfect.Lurielle closed her eyes, letting the vibrator work against her as Khash twitched and shook beneath her, not sagging to the mattress until his cock had emptied, spitting up its last bit of release the pool at the base. Lurielle wasted no time.
She had never beenthatgirl. She almost stumbled again, kicking off the panties, hearing the dildo thump somewhere across the room. She had never been this brave, never been this forward.Because you'd never felt this sexy. She'd never been that girl, she thought, climbing onto the bed and throwing a sigh over him, settling over his face and lowering herself until his outstretched top met her pussy. But maybe now she was.
Her hips gyrated as she worked herself against his mouth, crying out when his lips closed over the plump little bundle of nerves. Her head dropped back as he licked and sucked her, idly wondering what on earth had happened to her. Just a few years ago, she would have rather crawled into a cave and expired than even contemplate sitting on a man's face. Her thighs were too big, her ass too voluminous! Her lower belly alone was enough to suffocate him.
She cried out when her thighs tightened, grinding down as she came against his mouth, hearing him gurgle. Khash never stopped licking.This is what being in love is about,Lurielle reminded herself as she gasped, feeling tremors rock through her body. Being in love and being loved. Loving him so hard that it made the reality of losing him worth all the memories they would make in the meantime. Khash groaned again as she dropped down, spent.
And if he dies, he dies.
Ris
"Ijust don't know what to do."
Ris took a shuddering breath angrily wiping away her tears as her mother made sympathetic noises from the other side of the video call. She was tired of crying. Tired of raging. Tired of running. Spring had started early, after that last cold snap, and she had been taking advantage of the mild weather, jogging through the streets at night, vowing that if she ever ran into that shifty toothed bartender again, she was going to smash his face into a wall.
Ainsley was resolute.
He'd already packed up most of his apartment, and had already found a place in Bridgeton. He was going to be there permanently by the end of the following month, moving back to the city, even closer to her, and they would be finished.
I just need some space to think about things, Nanaya.
Ris did know how she was ever meant to go anywhere ever again. The symphony, the ballet, even the fucking library. Everything would remind her of him. Reading, one of herfavorite hobbies — him. Music, theater, museums. Him, him, him. Everything was ruined. For if she couldn't go there with him, what was the point in going at all? If she was going to go places to not be with him but still be thinking of him endlessly, what was the point in ever even leaving her house again? She could work from home like Silva, adopt a cat, and call it a day.
"Ris, baby, tell me what you want."
Her mother was endlessly sympathetic. Ris had been on the phone with her for the better part of the last hour, catching her up on all that had happened since the last time she called, earlier in the week. She teased Ainsley for the way he told his mother everything, but she wasn’t any different. She’d gone home that terrible night, after he’d told her their relationship had run its course. She’d been too numb to cry, too shocked to do anything but go through her routine like a zombie that night and the following morning, her eyes open without seeing a thing the following day at work. When she’d come home, the silence of the house hit her like a freight train. She’d begun sobbing and couldn’t stop, calling her mother once she was finally able to wheeze in a breath.
"I don't want to overstep. Do you just want someone to talk to? Because you know you always have that, baby. Advice? Just a shoulder to cry on?"
"Advice," Ris blurted.
She appreciated her mother asking. Her parents were perennial bootstrappers, never asking for help when they were barely scrimping by, and she knew she had internalized the ‘need to take care of every problem herself’ mindset. Sometimes, though, she just wanted to call and be heard, without receiving the Elvish spin on things, and her mother always intuited that.
