I bounce in place for a few beats but can barely move with him lodged inside me like this.
“You’re gonna have to let me in,” he says, eyes on where we’re joined. “You can do it, angel. Open up for me.”
I look down and realize I’ve got nothing but the head inside me.
“Shit, you’re huge,” I groan. “Maybe you should use your fingers on me again and stretch me out some more.”
I roll my hips over him, but it doesn’t get me much further. Weston’s face is pulled tight and he looks strained for the first time since I’ve known him.
“Breathe with me, darlin’,” he tells me through clenched teeth, and I do. In, and out, in, and out. I watch his chest rise and fall, and match his breaths.
That gets us another inch, at most.
I gasp at the intrusion, the progress, thefeelof him, so thick, so hard inside of me. My walls are squeezing him. It’s not a choice; it’s a visceral response.
“Back up,” he mutters, tapping my ass with one hand gently.
I pull up, feeling the delicious slide of our bodies as I rise off of him, and try to sink down again with more weight behind it this time.
My eyes flutter, rolling back in my head as the feel of him registers deep in my cells. I can’t help the noises I’m making, trying to take him, nails digging into his chest as I push my hips, grinding on him, his cock slipping in just a bit at a time.
His eyes are pressed shut tight, lip between his teeth, like he’s in pain.
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
Weston’s eyes, dark green with flecks of gold, shoot open, landing on mine, full of emotion.
“No, I’m not okay. Tightest pussy I’ve ever had and you’re gonna kill me with these noises, those tits in my face as you’re trying to take me. I’m gonna blow before I’m balls deep, and I’ll never forgive myself for ruining this. Ever.”
A laugh falls out of me at his face, the anger at the situation apparent all over it.
“You think it’s funny?”
His hips jerk upward, enough to push himself just a bit further, to sting in a way I’ll feel for days, and I let out a loud moan, all the humor instantly gone. My head falls back, hair swinging, and my hands go to his thighs behind me to brace myself as my back arches.
“Jesus, Amelia, you’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.”
I’ve told him before not to threaten me with a good time.
Keeping my back arched, head thrown, I pivot my hips, rolling them over his cock, and letting my body take what it needs from him. Up, then back down, up, and down, hitting all the right spots as I go.
“Fuck,” he grunts out, and his fingers dig in even tighter.
I change up my movements, putting more weight onto his thighs and swapping to a quick, shallow bounce, mostly on the head of his cock.
I’m never quiet in my own home, and that doesn’t change just because Weston is here with me. Moans and noises of pleasure coat the walls of my van as I let myself explore his body with my own, at the pace that I want to.
“Fuck, you should see you right now,” he grits out.
“Paint me a picture,” I beg him, head still tilted back, unable to keep my eyes open at the feel of the invasion of his thickness, knowing that I’m not even halfway to taking him yet. It’s taking all my concentration to survive this.
“Bright pink cunt, stretched out, dripping on my cock as you bounce there, perfect fucking tits matching every stroke.”
I let the groan building in my chest escape. “You feel so good,” I tell him.
“I almost feel bad for you,” he says, panting.
“Because I won’t be able to walk for a week?”
