Breakfast is artisan bagels again, this time with herb-infused cream cheese and smoked salmon.
All it takes is the sight of Morgan licking a stray bit of cream cheese from her fingers, and my cock is throbbing again.
I’m sure she can’t see, but her nostrils flare, scenting it. The mere thought cranks my arousal up another two levels.
Fuck, there’s no hiding it from her.
A moment later, she shoves breakfast aside and lays me back on the kitchen island, rimming me like I’m the main course.
The things this woman can do with her tongue,good god.
I predictably cum all over myself, and she licks me clean with predatory satisfaction, then deposits me back on my feet.
I’ve only just regained my balance when she offers to complete the tour of her estate. When we reach the infinity pool on one of the higher terraces of the property, memories of the last time we were in the water shift my scent again, and she rides me on one of the deck chairs. We bask in the sun until I’m recovered enough to stand, but we only make it two rooms over before she lifts me up and pins me against a glass window, kissing me hungrily and crushing my cock between us, the worry of whether the glass will crack with her force making me ache with pleasure.
After that, it’s outdoors to the putting green at the top ofthe property, where she makes a joke about holes in one and then she’s knuckling mine again.
My own inner beast is perfectly content with this arrangement, and I don’t feel like I’m going to shift again, but I’m stilldefinitelyin heat.
There’s something raw in Morgan too, her eyes honest and hungry. She’s not holding back.
Past the putting green is azip lineof all things, and as the adrenaline turns me onagain, Morgan leaves me hanging in the harness and devours me, tongue working greedily around my cock. I climax twenty feet off the ground.
By the end of the tour, Morgan has taken me in every way, shape, and form, working me to gasping, aching climax, mingling it with her own pleasure. I now have a vivid memory of every element of the estate, but my lust-addled brain retained zero sense of how they all connect in space.
It’s dinnertime when we find the kitchen again—or, I should say,akitchen. This is adifferentgorgeously appointed luxury kitchen. Morgan opens what looks like a cabinet door but is actually a fridge and pulls out a bottle of some fancy electrolyte drink, tossing it to me.
“Better stay hydrated,” she says with a hungry sweep of her tongue across her fangs.
Fuck.
She makes a game of sucking me off, but only while I’m actively drinking. There’s a lot of sputtering and gasping. I cum hard. Again.
I somehow convince Morgan that we should watch a movie—I think I say something about giving me a break to rehydrate properly—so she leads me to a subterranean theater lined with leather armchairs and trimmed with red velvet.
We don’t even make it five minutes into the movie before I say something about buttering popcorn and she’s giving me awrap-around hand-job and I’m cumming again. At least my crop top is short enough that I don’t ruin it.
Morgan decides that analyzing my current refractory period is much more interesting than the movie, and after ample trials, she determines it’s right around thirty seconds, leaving me pleading for mercy.
If I thought I was addicted to Morgan before…
Fuck.Fuck.
But for once, I’m not crashing as I come down from my heat. Even while I’m still unclaimed, Morgan seems to be the antidote. Well, Morgan and like… a hundred orgasms.
#
MORGAN
I give Jamie all of a five-minute break before my fingers creep up his thigh again.
“Mercy,” he reminds me with a ragged laugh.
“Fine. Mother did always say I was too rough with my toys…”
He shivers.
I kiss his cheek. “You take so much for me so well…”
