She moans her agreement, the sound muffled by my cock, and that's it. That's all it takes to send me over the edge.
My orgasm slams into me with brutal force. I hold her head in place as I come, my cock pulsing as I empty myself into her mouth. Wave after wave of release, so intense my vision goes white at the edges. I can feel her swallowing, her throat working around me, taking everything I give her.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant, the words punctuated by each spasm of pleasure.
When it finally subsides, when I've given her everything I have, I slowly release my grip on her hair. My legs feel weak, my whole body trembling from the intensity of it.
Savannah pulls back, my cock slipping from her lips with an obscene wet sound. She looks up at me, her makeup smeared,her lips swollen and red, a drop of my cum glistening at the corner of her mouth. She licks it away, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact.
"Good?" she asks, her voice husky.
I can't form words. Can barely remember my own name. My whole body feels like it's been cracked open and put back together wrong—or maybe right for the first time in my life.
So I just nod, dropping down beside her feet. The blanket is soft beneath my back, still warm from where we were just tangled together. I reach for her, my hands finding her waist, pulling her on top of me.
"More?" she asks, half laughing as she straddles me. Her wet pussy settles against my shaft, cradling it, and I feel her heat even through the haze of my exhaustion.
But then she looks down. Her eyes widen slightly as she realizes what I already know.
I'm still rock hard.
My cock throbs between us, still slick from her mouth, from her pussy, refusing to soften despite the fact that I just came so hard I saw stars. It's like my body knows something my mind hasn't caught up to yet—that I'll never get enough of her. That I could fuck her a hundred times and still want more.
I take her face in my hands. Force her to look at me, hold those blue eyes with mine.
"Yes, Savannah," I rasp, my voice still rough from groaning her name. "More."
Her breath catches. I feel it, see the way her pupils dilate.
"Ride me now," I tell her, my thumbs stroking her cheekbones. "Ride me slow. Fuck me good, just like I did you."
For a moment, she just stares at me. Her hair falls around us like a curtain, blocking out the rest of the world. It's just us in this canyon alcove—just her blue eyes and my hands on her face and the pulse of want between us that won't quit.
Then she shifts her hips, reaches down between us, and wraps her fingers around my cock.
The touch sends electricity straight up my spine. I'm so sensitive after coming, every nerve ending raw and exposed, that just her hand on me feels like too much and not nearly enough.
She positions me at her entrance. I can feel how wet she still is, how ready. My hands fall from her face to her hips, gripping tight as she starts to sink down onto me.
Slow. So fucking slow.
Inch by inch, her pussy opens around me, taking me inside. The drag of her walls against my oversensitive cock is almost painful in its intensity. I grit my teeth, my fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to bruise.
"Fuck," I breathe, watching her face as she takes me. Watching the way her eyes flutter closed, the way her mouth falls open on a silent gasp.
She doesn't stop until I'm buried completely inside her, until she's sitting on my lap with my cock as deep as it can go. Then she pauses, adjusting to the fullness, her hands braced on my chest for balance.
I can feel her pulse where we're joined. Can feel the slight tremor in her thighs, the way her whole body is wound tight with renewed desire despite the fact that I already made her come so hard she screamed.
"Look at me," I order, my voice low and rough.
Her eyes open, locking onto mine. There's something wild in them now, something unleashed. The perfect Ashby princess is gone. This is just Savannah—raw and real and mine.
"Ride," I tell her.
She does.
Lifting herself up slowly, almost all the way off my cock, before sliding back down just as deliberately. Setting a rhythm that's designed to torture us both—slow and deep anddevastating. Each movement deliberate, controlled, wringing every sensation from both our bodies.
