He drops his head to my shoulder and laughs, his chest rumbling against mine.
“Trying to blow your mind, woman, and you got jokes.” He shakes his head at me, tongue between his teeth. “Must not be doing my job well enough,” he says like he’s almost disappointed in himself, but he’s still smiling at me with one side of his mouth.
I grab his face, my hands on either side of it, bring him down for a kiss, look him in the eyes. “You’re doing fucking unreal, Ash. I’m just an awkward dork.”
“And I’m gonna keep trying shit on you until I find a position, that spot, that takes away your power of speech,” he tells me, challenge written into his eyes.
“If you want me to shut up, you could always fill my mouth with something,” I tell him, teasing him for not letting me go down on him earlier.
His nostrils flare, eyes shooting straight to that mouth, and he glares at me. “I never want you to shut up, gorgeous. Just wanna find what makes you scream.”
He sits back up, until he’s kneeling between my legs, his own spread a bit. He stays inside of me, but pulls my right leg over both of our bodies, laying it across my other leg, trapping him between my thighs, inside of me. He watches me closely, starts moving again, and I think my soul leaves my body. I lose track of everything for seconds, maybe minutes, and when I regain awareness of the physical universe, I see the satisfaction on his face. The way his eyes are bouncing between my face, my tits (bouncing on their own), my ass, all on display for him, and down to where the two of us are connected, how he’s pumping in and out of me. Then I hear the sounds, realize I’ve been making them all this time.
“That good?” he asks me, like I’m capable of anything more than grunts, moans, whimpers, wordless pleas to not stop, never stop.
I nod my head at him, eyes closing, and he keeps filling me. The way he’s got me bent and twisted, I’m so fucking full of him, he feels goddamn huge. I’m so shallow like this, and he’s hitting this combination of spots on every stroke. His hands are free to caress my face, roll my nipples, cherish any and all of me whenever the urge strikes.
I don’t know how long it’s been, but I know that I’m feeling a kind of pleasure deep inside of me I haven’t felt in years, if ever. I start slapping his arm, trying to tell him without my mouth, but then it starts crying out, too. “Fuck!” I scream. “Asher!”
“God, I want to hear you do that every night, babe.”
“Don’t stop,” I moan.
“I’m not stopping,” he tells me. “Not gonna ever stop until you get what you need from me.”
I nod, trusting that, knowing he’s always going to take care of me as his priority.
“Touch yourself, Ell. Touch your tits. Let me see,” he urges me.
The way he loves to watch me does something for me. Feeling like I’m the show,I’mwhat’s sexy about what my partner is enjoying, it’s a new feeling, and I could OD on it. Anytime he asks me to show him something, let him see, I want to give it to him. Give him anything he asks for. The way he gives me everything I could ask for and then some.
I bring my fingers to my nipples and roll them, tweak them, like he does to me, and the look on his face, the feel of him inside of me, that extra stimulation, I’m done for.
“Fuck, yes,” he says, reading me easily. “I wanna feel you come from inside you.”
My walls are clenching, trying to trap him, keep him inside me, where he belongs. Make him feel good, pull that cum out of him; Mother Nature’s trap to spur reproduction with a worthy partner, his biological reward for being a competent lover.
True to his word, he doesn’t stop, and I break. Everything in me tightens, all my awareness closing in, down to a single point somewhere deep in my belly, my core, unbelievable pressure, compression, and then it explodes.
The rush is unbelievable, deeper than I’ve ever felt it before, a totally different kind of release than I’ve ever had. It’s a lot, too much actually, and I scream, letting it out. My body is spasming, twitching, bucking, unsure how to process the level of pleasure it’s currently being subjected to, that it’ll be reeling from for hours to come, maybe longer.
“Fuck,” he groans. “So hot. Can’t hold out,” he warns me, and then his hips are jerking, too. He feels bigger, impossibly bigger inside of me, my walls still clamping down on him, legs still pressed overtop of us, and then I feel him twitching, wish I could feel his cum spilling inside me, not used to the presence of a condom. It collects all he gives me, instead of me getting that honor, and I hope we can have that talk soon.
He breathes heavily, riding out his release, and I watch him in fascination. The way his brows pinch together, jaw going slack, every muscle on his frame tightening with the rush.
“Holy fuck,” he says once his eyes open again.
“Holy fuck,” I murmur in agreement, still watching his every move.
He shakes his head down at me. “You have no idea what you just unlocked in me, gorgeous.”
“Was it your cum?” I can’t get the delivery out, and laugh at my own joke.
His palm lands on my ass, a light slap that echoes throughout the room.
“A serious need for more of you, that’s what.”
He pulls out of me (regrettably), and handles the condom, disposing of it in the wastebasket next to the nightstand.
