The familiar, overpowering rush starts in my stomach and moves down, deep down into my core. Everything in me tightens, my muscles contracting, walls bearing down on the fullness inside of me.
The pleasure centers down to one tiny spot, all of my awareness homed in on this singular place of existence, where it crests and finally breaks, bursting free. The tingling explodes all at once, moving outward to my limbs, the intensity of the orgasm overwhelming me as it all crashes into me.
Liquid fireworks shoot through my entire body as my hips jerk violently, trying to get away from the suddenly too-intense sensations he’s wreaking on me with both his fingers and his mouth, still going at it for all he’s worth.
I can’t be responsible for the sounds coming out of my mouth right now, and I hear him make a noise of complaint as his free hand comes down on my abdomen, stopping my wriggling and holding me in place as he continues licking me and fucking me through each and every wave of pleasure, despite my best efforts. His hand on my stomach feels wet, but I’m too lost in my own orgasm to give it much thought.
It takes close to a minute, but when I finally come down from that insane high, I regain some of my senses and open my eyes. I see Chance, sitting up again, looking very satisfied with himself. I see the moisture on his stomach, and his dick looks like it’s had quite the time, too.
I didn’t even realize he was jerking himself off while working me into that insane frenzy.
Damn. The man’s got skills.
“Fuck,” is all I can say, because I have no other words.
He, on the other hand, has something else to tell me, and he leans forward to make sure there’s no mistaking it.
“Next time you come, it’ll be with my cock inside you,” he growls out.
The flutter that sends through my belly has me thinking I might take him up on that with whatever time we have remaining, even despite my earlier determination to keep him locked out, but his words ring familiar and it takes me a second to place why.
“Wait a second.” I stretch out leisurely, regaining feeling in my limbs as I taunt him. “You threatened me last time, too. I’m starting to think you’re all talk. These threats of what you’re going to do to me. The boy who cried wolf.” I might be playing with fire, but again, danger kink, remember?
He leans over, chuckling, but kisses me softly. “All talk, huh?” The playful note in his words gets me hot all over again. “That why our comforter is soaked right now? Why your pussy is still dripping from how hard you came? I’m gonna be tasting you for the rest of the week, Di.”
The hard glint in his eyes and that confident smirk on his mouth let me know he’ll back up his words with more action if I tempt him, and fuck, do I want to.
A quiet alarm goes off on his phone, pausing any hope for another round, which he turns off, then tells me he’ll be right back and to stay put.
He removes the toy from my body and heads into the bathroom, where I hear the water start running and cabinets opening and closing. It feels kind of wrong to make him clean the vibrator for me after I definitely feel like I got the better end of that bargain, but I’m not complaining.
He returns a moment later with a warm, wet washcloth, and as I reach out to grab it, he nudges my hand away and begins to gently clean me up himself.
I miss this.I can’t help the thought, or the warmth that still floods my system, not just from the best orgasm I’ve had in months, but the care this man gives me.
If I let him keep wearing me down like this, he’s going to have all of me again in no time, and I might just forget why I’ve been holding out on him in the first place.
FOURTEEN
CHRISSY
When I close my eyes, I still see it.
The way his eyes closed as he stroked himself, on the brink of untold pleasure.
The lust that was palpable, tangible in the very air as he gripped his cock and pumped.
Not the other night, when he was between my legs, introducing me to the celestial deities near and far.
No.
What I see is the night I found him in the bathroom, whacking it to some chick on his phone like he’s fucking twelve years old.
The dry heave comes out of nowhere, and I rush to the sink, making it just in time.
I rinse my mouth out with cold water and pat my face dry.
The sight of my husband, not just hard for someone else, but pleasuring himself to her picture, it’s ruined me. It plagues me, taints every sweet thing he’s said, every hot moment we’ve shared over the last few weeks.
