Page 52 of Graciously His

I expect her to lash out half-heartedly, but she spreads her thighs a bit wider. Working her ass has affected her more than I hoped for—more than I expected from someone so inexperienced in this type of pleasure. Gently, I show Grace how to get comfortable with her chest and belly on the pillows, her head on the mattress, and her ass up.

“You,” I sit back to look at her, “are fucking perfect. Do you know that?”

“I’m not,” she whispers, tears in her voice. It’s a lot, after the intimacy she gave me, to position her like this, even more exposed.

But she offered, and I’m going to accept.

“You are perfect,” I say again, stroking the curve of her waist, “and I’m going to make sure you know it.”

I run my hands up to her ribs, cupping the side swells of her breasts, then down her waist to her ass. I take each cheek, spreading her open slowly. Grace whimpers, leaning away a bit.

“Shhh,” I murmur, “it’s okay, love. Can you relax for me like you did before?”

She nods, her breaths coming slow and hard.

When I spread her open this time, she winks at me, just a bit. I grin, loving the confirmation of all that work I did.

“You have no idea how beautiful this is.”

She answers with an almost soundless sigh. Following my basest, neediest urge, I lean forward, slipping my forefinger easily into her. Grace pushes up into my invasion with a wanton moan. I murmur approvingly, though she’s not wet as I want. Grinning to myself, I spit on her.

She gives a cry of surprise, but I’m already tucking my spit into her with the tip of my thumb.

“That’s right,” I say, watching her quiver, “I’m going to make this extra sloppy. And that’s exactly what I want, Grace. I want this ass to be sloppy and open so I can put my come inside it next. Do you want that, too?”

It’s more than she agreed to. I know it and so does she. I wait, my thumb stirring her, my free hand stroking my cock. She shifts, straining to look at me over her shoulder.

Tears run down her face and she is so beautiful that I have to pause. I’m tempted to stop. To apologise. To comfort her.

But then Grace—my Grace, who has to be persuaded into every piece of depravity—whispers.

“Yes.”

“I love you,” I say, unable to stop myself. “I fucking love you, Grace Hadley.”

Her answer is to bury her face against the mattress again. I force my spit further inside, stroking my cock hard and fast until I’m a breath away from coming. I’ve been half on this edge all evening—fuck, all day—and when I finally come, it’s right between the dimples on her lower back. I do as I promised, using my thumb to slide come into her, filling her in the only way I can tonight.

“Some day,” I whisper, my voice low and fractured, “I’m going to fill every single one of your places. One after the other. I’ll make you so full that you’re dripping. Then I’ll do it again.”

“Okay,” she whispers, and I’m so surprised that I laugh.

“You want that, do you?” I press kisses down her spine. “And what does my girl want for herself, hm?”

Grace doesn’t answer. I keep my thumb moving, in and out, playing with her. My come is drying on the small of her back, and I feel the tacky texture when I rotate my hand, putting pressure around her tailbone.

“I think she wants to come again.” I pump my thumb faster, rotating it at the joint. “I think she wants to come right here, in her ass. So that’s what I’m going to make you do, Grace. I’m not going to touch your pussy, even though she’s a wet, gorgeous mess. I’m not going to even breathe on your clit. And you’re going to come anyway. Aren’t you?”

She’s gasping, her breaths fast and deep as I put pressure where she needs it. I can’t feel the distinctive texture of her G-spot from here, but she can feel the careful strokes I’m making.

“You’re going to be so good for me now, aren’t you?” I murmur, going deeper, working her inner walls. “But you’re not always good, are you, Grace? Sometimes you pretend I don’t know what you need, when we both know I do. Isn’t that right?”

She doesn’t answer, clearly too far gone. I spit again, not because she needs it, but because I fucking want to. I slide my spit into the heat of her ass, to live alongside my come. Then I push as far as I can, spread her open with my free hand, and pop my thumb out. She wells with a mixture of semen and spit before closing back up.

Glorious.

“Fuck,” I growl, unable to help myself.

Grace sobs. The disadvantage of this position is that I can’t see her face, but I trust her submission to hold, even as a wicked thought occurs to me. A way to increase the pressure, because she clearly needs a final push to orgasm. I probe into her again, then stroke her ass cheek with my other hand.