Sounds spill from me—raw, broken noises I don't recognize.
His beard rasps my sensitive skin, amplifying every lick, every pull.
He slides two thick fingers inside me, curling them against that spot deep within, pumping in at the same time his tongue is going wild.
My walls flutter around the intrusion, slick arousal coating his hand. "Tastes like you’re fuckin’ mine," he growls against my pussy, the vibration sending jolts through me.
I fist his damp hair, yanking him closer, grinding my clit against his face.
Stars burst behind my eyelids as the edge rushes up.
My body bows off the bed, toes curling into the sheets.
My orgasm crashes over me—pussy convulsing, juices flooding his mouth.
I cry out, name fracturing into gasps, thighs quaking around his ears.
He doesn't stop. Tongue laps through the spasms, fingers thrusting steady, drawing out every aftershock until I'm a writhing mess.
Oversensitive nerves scream, pleasure bordering pain. Finally, I tug his hair hard, pulling him up. "Spur—enough."
He rises slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, chin slick with my cum.
His cock juts hard against my thigh, thick vein pulsing along the shaft, head swollen and leaking pre-cum.
The femur scar twists down his left thigh, pale line stark against his tanned muscle.
Older scars etch his ribs—jagged reminders of a brutal life.
His chest heaves, that patch of dark hair across his sternum matted with sweat, trailing thin down his ripped abs.
"Good morning," he rasps, voice like gravel.
"Spur." I reach for him, fingers tracing his jaw. "Do this every morning."
"As you wish." He crashes his mouth to mine, tongue thrusting deep, sharing my tangy taste.
I suck on it, moaning into the kiss, hands roaming his back, nails scraping over scars.
He breaks away, trailing licks down my neck, slow and deep.
One hand cups my throat, thumb stroking my jaw—an echo of last night, possessive and tender.
His cock nudges my entrance, slick with my wetness.
He presses in gradual, inch by inch, stretching my pussy around his girth.
I whimper, legs wrapping his waist, heels digging into his ass.
Bottomed out, balls snug against me, he stills. Forehead to mine, breaths mingling. "Mine."
"Yes."
"Say you'll come back to this bed after Abilene."
"I'll come back to this bed." The words tumble out, vow sealed as he starts moving.
Slow, deep grinds—cock dragging along my walls, pelvis rubbing my clit with every roll. Pleasure rebuilds, lazy waves cresting higher.
