“Don’t spoil the view for me,” he grunts. “I want to see your face as you come on my cock.”
I’m immobilized, upper body pinned, lower body battered by his relentless thrusts.
“I’m coming,” I whisper.
“Not yet, Élise,” he growls, squeezing my hands. “I’m not done with you.”
It’s like my body obeys his voice, not my mind. I want to come, but can’t; it’s maddening, all heat and tension, the need for release overwhelming everything.
“Please,” I beg, curling my legs around his waist. “Please, let me come.”
“A little longer,” he grits out.
He releases my hands, flips me onto my belly. I’d spread my legs, but he does it for me first, plunging deeper. His hands find my breasts as he rides my soaking pussy with animal grunts.
“Please, Nico,” I gasp again.
Two punishing thrusts, and he says, “Now. Come, Élise, eat my dick with that royal pussy.”
And I do; waves of orgasm ripping through me, my pussy clenching to the rhythm of his last strokes, my scream matching his as he comes, collapsing on my back.
My breathing is ragged; I’m shivering, tears streaking down my cheeks. I wipe them away furiously with the back of my hand.
“Get off me,” I snap.
He rolls away, watching with curious eyes as I pull myself together, swiping at my face.
“Elise,” he says, reaching for me.
I slap his hand away. I don’t know why I hate him right now, but I do.
Only our ragged breathing and the radiator humming spoil the perfect silence that stretches.
“I used to work in a wildlife animal shelter,” he says abruptly, catching me off guard.
“What?” I shoot back, unsteady.
“I learned how to coax wild creatures into trust…” he smiles. “And let them go free when they’re ready.”
I look at him. The words land harder than he realizes.
“But what do I know… you’re neither a fox nor an owl. So, maybe I’m just babbling again.”
“You’re always babbling,” I reply, but a slow smile softens my lips.
“I don’t want you to cry,” he says simply, shaking his head.
His concern undoes me. I crawl to him, curl up in his arms, and sob uncontrollably.
“Yeah, guess I messed that part up, too, huh?”
“Stop being funny!” I choke out through the tears. “You’re making it worse.”
He strokes my back. “Me being funny usually makes things better.”
“You’re sweet. You’re cute. And a minute ago you—”
“Gave you what you needed.”
