Chapter Twenty-One #3
“Ohhhh that’s so good, oh you’re so good to me,” he moaned, so low and rough it sent a thrill through her whole body. She actually made a sound of pleasure back, it was so intense. But he didn’t make her regret it. That hand tightened in her hair to hear it. And his free one clenched in the sheets.
To stop himself from fucking up at you , she thought.
And knew she was right the moment she licked and sucked again. He clutched at the sheets even harder. He made a sound like someone drowning. She honestly almost stopped, just in case he was, somehow. But then he let out words, heated, strained words. “Oh that’s unbelievable,” he told her.
Like he’d never had anyone do this to him before.
In fact, it was clear he hadn’t. He had made it clear, right at the start. Whatever he’d experienced prior had been hot and heavy and probably weird. But not like this. Not softness, not tenderness. Not someone loving the taste and feel of him.
Because she couldn’t deny it—it was wonderful.
He wasn’t salt-sweet like most men. He was like smoke, he was like fire.
Almost too hot to take, but so delicious with it.
She found herself making sounds. She found herself squirming and going at it desperately, eagerly.
Like she couldn’t get enough. Like all she wanted was to feel him swell in her mouth, and spill over her tongue.
More, more, more , she thought at him as she worked him—and he gave it.
He filled her mouth with slick liquid, to the point where she was certain he had come.
She almost stopped.
Until that hand tightened in her hair.
Until he actually did almost urge her against him.
And then it was all she could do to not swallow him to the root. She took as much as she could of him, reveling in every bit of it. One hand making up for all the places her mouth couldn’t go, mouth so greedy he hardly seemed able to stand it.
Yet still he didn’t go over.
He kept going, way past the point of good sense. Way past the point she could really take. By the time it seemed like he was getting close, her whole body was one sweet ache. The place between her legs had its own heartbeat, and it rose and rose until she simply couldn’t resist.
She had to slip a hand there.
Just to take the edge off , she told herself.
But the longer this went on the more taking the edge off turned into something else, something more frantic.
She searched out her clit and stroked it.
Thought of the way he’d fucked her with his fingers, and tried something like the same.
Curling them just a little, as he had done, until a heavy wave of pleasure hit her hard enough that she almost lost her rhythm.
Instead of slow, steady strokes over his cock, she got sloppy.
She almost said sorry, because it made him go very still.
Or at least it seemed like this was what made him go very still.
But just as she was about to stop and reassess, just as she was wondering if maybe he wasn’t enjoying this at all, she heard him.
Low and hoarse, “Ohhhh man, you’re touching yourself.
You’re touching yourself, oh jeez. Oh, does it feel good to do this to me?
You like it this much, feeling my cock in your mouth? ”
She couldn’t answer him, however.
She was too busy realizing that his words, and the feel of him, and her own hand between her legs—it was enough. More than enough. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure how she had never been able to make herself feel like this before. It seemed wild, considering how easily the pleasure came.
It just rolled up, like it had always been there, waiting.
All she had to do was give in to it, open herself up to it—like with the magic, like with her feelings.
The same way he did, because as the pleasure crested in her, so it did for him.
His hips lifted off the bed, his hand fisted in her hair.
And this time it wasn’t honey or kid , it was sweetheart .
It was baby . It was babbling about how good she made him feel, until all of it descended into nothing but groans and gasps, so guttural they only sent her higher.
And so did the feel of his come on her tongue.
Sweet as anything, so good and hot and filthy she could have cried.
She did, in fact—she sobbed as her whole body shuddered through this bliss, so unable to take it that she couldn’t stay on her knees.
She sagged against him, helplessly, messily; she couldn’t even keep up what she was doing.
He spilled in her mouth, then over her cheek, her lips.
He had to finish himself off with a hand over hers.
But he didn’t seem to mind.
The moment he was done, he gathered her up.
He wrapped his arms around her, so tightly it felt to her like disappearing into him.
And once she was there she knew: she never wanted to get back out.
This was it for her now. Being surrounded by him, as he murmured into her hair: No one has ever done more right by me than you.