“Because you’ll never get to feel perfection. You’ll never know what it’s like to be squeezed by this cunt of yours. Best thing on earth, Amelia. Never felt anything like it.”
At that, I swivel my head to look at him once more. He brings a hand up from my side to grab one whole breast in his palm. I look down, watching my flesh mold to his fingers, the imprintsof his fingertips leaving white marks around his strong grip. Past his arm, I see the rest of the show.
I watch his sheathed cock, larger than even the fake ones I’ve used over the years, struggle to open me up wide enough for him. It’s obscene. The sight turns me on more than it should, and I feel a fresh flood of desire course through my system.
“That’s it, darlin’,” he tells me, fingers squeezing my breast. “Watch this pussy stretch for me.” His other hand comes down to my front and we both watch as he swipes a finger through the mess I’m leaving on his dick and then he brings it up to my clit, playing with me.
The noise I make, the reaction of my body, tells him everything he needs to know about what that’s doing to me. I feel my body let more of him in, the sharp pinch giving way to a burn that’s satisfying, it feels like I’ve earned his cock.
“Ah, Jesus.” Weston curses. “How are you this tight? You a fucking virgin, angel? Am I the first to take this pussy?”
I shake my head at him while I go back to bouncing softly, willing my body to stretch faster, hands on the roof of the van to steady me. “It’s been a while though.” His breaths are strained, like he’s having to focus not to fuck this up. “And you’re definitely the biggest I’ve ever had,” I add on. That throws his breathing off.
“Fuck this,” he says, and his hands are back on my waist, pulling me up, up, and off of him.
“What?” I ask.
Is he stopping?
“It’ll fit,” I plead with him. “Just give it some more time.”
“You wanna be on top, right?” he asks.
I nod, appreciating that he isn’t making me tell him that I can’t be on the bottom. That my trust issues won’t let me be in the moment if we try it that way.
“Then we’re going to have to get creative.”
Hovering over him, I watch as he leans forward, sucking my pierced nipple into his mouth, pulling on it with that magical suction of his. I wrap my arms around his head, holding him to me, running my fingers through his hair, urging him on.
“Shit, West,” I moan. “I think you could make me come just from that.”
“Another time,” he gets the words out around my nipple before taking the piercing between his teeth and tugging on it.
A little scream comes out, but it’s not a protest. Shock, maybe, definitely surprise at the move, but clearly I fucking liked it because my lower abdomen heats, pussy flooding newly.
One of his hands comes down to check on me, fingers entering me with ease, stretching, pushing in and out in a way that makes lewd noises.
“If we didn’t need all of this, I’d be licking up every drop, I just want you to know that,” Weston murmurs against the skin of my other breast, giving it its fair turn of play.
“Should I just blow you?” I ask him. Van Gogh might as well be a lemonade stand after all the lemons life has been handing me since I was a preteen. “We could sixty-nine?”
Weston pulls back from my chest, eyes on mine again. “I’m getting inside this cunt tonight,” he promises. “You can sit on my face after. We’ll go for number eight while you get ate.” That filthy smirk graces his gorgeous face again. “Right now, I’m fucking you, and giving you five through seven. Hope you’re ready to keep counting.”
A little whimper of disbelief parts my lips, and he speaks again.
“I’m not sayin’ it’ll be easy, darlin’. But I’m sayin’ we’ll make it work.”
Still watching me, heavy-lidded, sinful green eyes on mine, Weston puts one of his hands in front of his face and spits.
Again.
And again.
I blush just at the sound of it, but the visual is enough to send me over the edge.
Lips quirked up at one side, palm full of saliva, he slaps it to my pussy, shoving the wetness inside of me with his fingers, and my knees buckle on contact.
The sting of his palm is instantly quelled by the pressure of his fingers, and the delicious heat that warms my insides at the sheer dirtiness of that move. The onslaught of need I feel, the way I won’t be whole until he’s inside of me, it overwhelms me in ways I’ve never known. The smirk on his face tells me he knows what that did to me, eyes glinting dangerously as he watches my reactions.
