Her eyes snap shut and she shudders, perhaps remembering what it felt like to wake up this last time, pressed back to my front, my fingers sliding into her well-used pussy and my thumb working into her tight asshole.
The rhythm of her breathing changes, her nipples peak into hard nubs, her stomach muscles tense, and her toes curl inward. She doesn’t need to tell me she’s about to come—I know from how her pussy clamps down on my fingers so hard I can barely move them, and how hard she’s clutching my shoulders. It’s a beautiful thing to watch how she fights it at first, then gives in, powerless against the waveof pleasure she can’t stop and doesn’t want to. My name is a prayer that whispers between lips that are red and swollen and a little chapped.
Before she’s even fully come down, she’s rocking her hips and chanting, “Fuck me. Please fuck me, Wesley. Right now. While I’m… oh my fuckinggod…Please, please, please, please. I want your cock. I love how it feels when you fuck me while this thing is inside—”
I don’t need to be begged twice, let alone four times, and my perfect girl has gotten so good at asking nicely for what she wants.
I slide out of the bed, grab her ankle and jerk her to the edge. I love this angle—the power and control, and the height advantage giving me a perfect view of her torso as it follows the momentum of my thrusts. Those bouncing tits alone are nearly enough to make me spill myself.
Her legs spread to the right width to cradle me—we’ve practiced enough that her body knows mine instinctively. She’s plenty wet, and I’m leaking like a bucket with a hole, so when I sink into her exquisite heat, we both groan. She grips me so tightly, spasming around me with an irregular pattern, caught in the throes of her body’s reactions. The device buzzing away next to my cock, her wet warmth, the all-consuming knowledge that she’s mine, that she’s being satisfied, that I finally have her after all this time…
The orgasm starts to build, heavy and urgent in my balls, and I know I’m not going to last.
No way. I refuse to be a two-pump-chump.
I withdraw, and she cries out, a deeply displeased noise. The noise gets even sharper as I pull the toy out of her. She squirms, like she’s trying to sit up, so I reach for her throat with my free hand and hold her down. “You’re not going anywhere, Madison,” I growl. “Lie still.”
With an erotic little sob, she grabs my wrist, steadying herself since I’m not pressing against anything I shouldn’t be. “Wesley,” she whines, swallowing hard against my palm. “Sir!”
The title sends me spinning into a mindless black hole of urgency. I flip the vibrator around so it can attach back onto her clit where it belongs, and thrust my hips forward at the same time. Since it won’t stay in place on its own, I grabher hand and force her fingers around it so I can still maintain my grip on her neck.
“Hold it,” I bark.
She cries out in relief and satisfaction, and it vibrates against my hold. I tighten my fingers, applying pressure to the veins that supply blood to her brain. Then, I turn up the sucking action to medium. She screams through another release, tightening and loosening around me, and I let my hips take over. Without the electrical pulses so close to my most sensitive parts, I can fuck her nice and hard and let the orgasm build slowly.
Her legs hook around my hips, pulling me in deeper, and she clutches my wrist like it’s a lifeline. “Too much,” she moans hoarsely, brows slashing upwards as her eyes roll back.
“You have a safe word,” I remind her, snapping my hips against her harder. She knows exactly what to say to make it stop if she really wants it to.
When she doesn’t say it, I know she’s not ready for it to end. My smile darkens. I continue to pound into her, holding her down and controlling her pleasure. Forcing it. Feeding on it. Basking in it. Her pleasure ismine. Those noises are forme.Every gasp and moan slides along my spine, prickles against my skin, seeps into my blood, and settles around my bones. She’s inside me; I’m inside her.
She clenches around me, completely lost in another wave of pleasure, and I watch the tears gather in the outer corners of her eyes and slip out. I don’t know why that’s what does it, but my orgasm suddenly explodes out of me. It’s a rocket of sensations—of pleasure so good it hurts and the disorienting feeling of satisfaction and physical weakness at the same time. The release takes a piece of my soul with it, giving it to her as if she doesn’t already have the rest of it.
I’m shuddering against her, riding the aftershocks when she rasps, “Stop, no more. Red.”
I jerk away so quickly that the toy nearly flies from her hand. There’s no censure or displeasure in her tone, but I’m sensitive to the use of her safe word. I release her throat, take the vibrator from her, click it off, and set it aside.
“Are you all right, my love?” I ask, trailing my hands down the side of her body and grinning as she giggles and shivers at the light, tickling touch.
Her eyes are closed when she smiles and hums her answer. “Oh yes. I’m fucking fantastic. And you’re a fantastic fuck. We’re like… one of those circles… with the swoopy parts.” She pants, drawing meaningless shapes in the air with her pointer finger.
“Yin and yang?”
“Sure. Yeah. That.”
Sex drunk. I chuckle and take a step back to give her room to sit up. Her half-closed eyes are fuzzy, and her hair is a mess, her skin is wet with sweat, but she’s never looked more beautiful. When I lean down to kiss her slowly, she meets it with languid satisfaction. The press of our mouths lacks all the hunger of the times we’ve kissed before. This time it’s intimate, not a precursor; it’s sealing the connection, not setting expectations. Affection. Aftercare.
She’s the one to pull back with a throaty noise. “Enough,” she rasps. “I’m tapping out. I’m sore and sticky and tired.”
“So the sass can be fucked out of you. Good to know.” The bed dips next to her as I kneel on the mattress, flipping so I’m sitting upright against the headboard I’ve hardly ever used. I claimed this room back when we first moved in—it’s the master, so it’s roomy and has an attached bath—but the mattress is still so new we had to cut it out of the plastic and make the bed. And now that I’ve spent some time on it, I realize how much more comfortable it is than the couch in my office where I nap throughout the day and night.
She laughs, and it’s such a light, joyful sound that I close my eyes and bask in it. Her arms come up over her head in a stretch that makes her wince and curl inward slightly in a protective move. “The sass and the sense, apparently. If I don’t take a shower, I’m going to get the worst UTI of my life.”
I watch, stretching an arm behind my head in a relaxed position, as she stands and grabs my towel from the hook on the back of the door. My body feels well-used and depleted. My abs, forearms, and thighs are so sore I can tell they’ll hurt for days. My dick is practically raw. I’m starving and thirsty and exhausted.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I roll out of bed and reach for my pants.
