I go to pull out of her lush mouth, but she digs her nails into my knot, making me pitch up on my toes. The sensation of her touch is a knife's edge of pleasure and pain.
“I want every drop,” she insists on a husky groan. Locking those caramel eyes on mine, she takes her time licking every inch of my cock absolutely clean. She knows how overly sensitive my piercing is, but she doesn’t stop or falter each time I pitch up as she unleashes sensations on each of them.
“Good girl. Now get on my desk,” I snap. My tension should be hers. She should be desperate and anxious for a release. She is—her scent tells me how fucking turned on she is—but she’s not in a frenzy. Which is a sign of her approaching heat.
“Are you going to let me take care of my stunning pussy now?” I ask her a lot more gently as I raise her up to sit her ass on the edge of my desk.
Reaching around her, I shove my laptop out of the way before helping her lie backward. Pulling her feet up to the armrest on my chair, I spread her legs as wide as they will go before using my thumbs to open her glistening cunt wider.
The sight that greets me is to die for. Her folds are blushed and puffy, the slick coating them highlighting what a great-looking pussy she has.
I grab my phone and take a series of photos, trailing my finger through her swollen and glossy folds. Her slick has made her pussy look like it’s dipped in honey. Happy with my photography, I dip down for a taste and instantly change my mind; it’s liquid caramel her pussy has been dipped in. And I want more.
“Your feet don’t move. And leave these nice and spread,” I say, my words blowing my scent over her pussy, and she quivers.
Covering her completely with my mouth, I wouldn’t have been able to stay quiet, even if I had a loaded gun to my temple. She tastes so good, I groan as her unique flavor hits my tongue, making my mouth water.
Her taste moves through my blood like a drug would. My head spins in slow, dipping circles as I devour her.
Layne’s eyes stay watching, though her hand snuck under her flimsy shirt when I wasn’t looking, and I growl at her twisting her nipples. Both of them. Hard.
As I flick my tongue deep inside her, her channel pulses around me, and my cock stirs back to life. Although, I don’t think I ever stopped being hard after shooting my load down her throat.
I suck on her clit the same way she suckled on my tip, until she’s thrashing under me, then I stand and power inside her tight body.
Climbing half up on the desk, I clamp a hand on the opposite side of the table so I can drive my knot straight in. She takes it too. Her body is so primed and ready, full of need and want.
There is no sweet coming together. Layne thrashes under me, begging me to lose control and rut into her sweet cunt to fill her over and over.
“Bite me,” she snarls, her eyes fully dilated, her face sweating.
“No chance.”
“Why?” she whines submissively, while her body maintains its frenzied fight.
Instead of answering her, because I nearly fucking cave and do bite her, I kiss her, slowing down the way we fuck, giving her body what it needs instead of giving in to her heat spike.
Kissing Layne is as exquisite as everything else about her. And in no time at all, she starts to respond to my influence and snaps out of the sudden spike that consumed her—and me. The chase we both got caught up in burns itself out, and in doing so, it tempers the edge of a rut I was circling.
As quickly as we nearly dropped together in a frenzy, we climb back out of our frantic fucking to a more intimate coming together. One where each touch lingers, each noise echoes, and when I swipe my thumb over her engorged clit, she doesn’t explode; she dissolves in a trembling and ebbing wave of pleasure that sweeps me up as quickly as it did her.
All around me is her unique scent. It’s in me deep and so incredibly potent. Her pleasure radiates, and when I fill her again, there’s no urgency. Instead, we share a sense of homecoming, an experience of two people becoming one—a coupling.
She sighs out her pleasure as she continues melting under me. Our mouths stay fused as one, but our kisses are sensual, softer until I break away, leaning my head on my elbow to brush the hair off her face.
There are things I should say.Are you okay?rates up there. But it feels like, if we talk, it would diminish or lessen the connection we’re both caught up in. I trail my fingers over her face until the haze that we both nearly drowned in disperses completely.
“I need medication,” she says eventually, her lips twisting into a very satisfied smirk.
“That may be a good idea.” Leaning down, I bypass her lips, as tempting as they are, and lick over her scent gland. All but confirming—without words—that she should never question that my intention is to claim her very soon.
My phone rings as I go to move, Ronin’s name flashing on my screen, and I answer it without pulling out of my wife.
“Yeah?”
“Ya finished? Jesus, ya poor fecking wife, Valentine.”
“Fuck you.”
