Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
PRIMSYN
Once inside his room, my palm flattens against his chest, feeling the heat of him, the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Oliver's skin is warm beneath my touch, and I can feel the slight tremor that runs through him. He's trying to maintain control, just like I am, but we're both failing miserably.
We stand there, caught in this moment. Last night was about feeding, about physical need and biological necessity. But this, standing here in the charged silence with our truths laid bare, this is something else entirely.
"Lie down," I tell him, my voice steadier now.
Oliver complies, stretching out on the bed. His eyes never leave mine, dark and intense and filled with a hunger that matches my own. I once again shed my dress, letting it fall to the floor. His sharp intake of breath sends heat flooding through me.
"Every time I see you like this," he says roughly, "I forget how to breathe."
I climb onto the bed, straddling his hips. His hands come to rest on my thighs, the touch gentle despite the tension coiled in his body.
"I've been thinking about this all day," I admit, running my hands up his abdomen. "About touching and tasting you again."
"Fuck, Primsyn." His hips lift slightly, seeking friction. "You can't just say things like that."
"Why not? It's true." I lean down, my hair falling like a curtain around us. "I spent the entire morning trying to work, trying to focus on household matters, and all I could think about was you. How you felt in my hand. How you tasted on my tongue."
A groan tears from his throat. "You're killing me."
"Good." I kiss him, slow and deep, tasting the remains of his lunch, the hint of wine. His mouth opens under mine, his tongue sliding against mine in a dance that makes my sex clench with need.
This kiss is different from the desperate one earlier. This one is learning, savoring. Like we have all the time in the world, even though we both know we don't.
My hips rock against him, and I can feel his cock, hard and thick beneath me, separated only by the thin fabric of his trousers.
"Off," I murmur against his mouth, tugging at the waistband. "Take them off."
He lifts his hips, shoving the trousers down and kicking them away. Then he's bare beneath me, all hard muscle and heated skin and that gorgeous cock jutting up between us.
I sit back, taking in the sight of him. "Beautiful," I breathe.
"That's my line," he says, but his voice is strained.
My hand wraps around his shaft, stroking slowly. The feel of him in my palm, hot and hard and so responsive to my touch, makes me feel powerful.
"I love how you feel," I tell him, watching his face as I stroke. "The weight of you. The way you pulse in my hand."
"Gods, woman." His head presses back into the pillow, his throat working. "You're going to make me come before you even start."
"Then come." I increase my pace, my grip tightening. "I want to watch you fall apart."
"Not yet. Not like this." His hand catches my wrist, stilling my movements. "I want...fuck, I want more."
"More?" My heart is racing now, anticipation and nervousness warring inside me.
Oliver sits up, forcing me to adjust my position. Now we're face to face, bodies pressed together, his cock trapped between us. His hand slides into my hair, gripping firmly.
"I want to taste you," he says, his eyes locked on mine. "I want to make you feel what you make me feel."
Heat floods through me, pooling between my thighs. "Oliver..."
"Tell me no. Tell me that's not allowed, that I'm just here to feed you and nothing more." His other hand slides down my back, over the curve of my ass. "Tell me to know my place."
"I can’t," I whisper.
His eyes flare with heat and triumph. Or was it relief? He moves quickly, rolling us so I'm on my back and he's above me. The shift in power should terrify me, but instead it thrills me.
"Spread your legs," he commands, and I obey without thinking.
Oliver settles between my thighs, his shoulders forcing them wider. His gaze drops to my core, and I’m exposed in a way I've never been before.
"Fucking perfect," he mutters. Then, his mouth is on me.
The sensation rips a cry from me. His tongue is hot and wet and skilled, lapping at my folds like he's dying of thirst. My hands tangle in his hair, not sure if I'm pulling him closer or trying to push him away from the overwhelming pleasure.
"Oh gods, Oliver." My hips buck against his face, shameless.
He groans against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my body. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open as his tongue explores every inch of me. When he finds that bundle of nerves at my apex, I nearly come off the bed.
"There," I gasp. "Right there, please."
He focuses his attention there, circling and sucking until I'm writhing beneath him. I've touched myself before, found my own release. But this is nothing like that. This is consuming, overwhelming, like I'm being pulled apart at the seams.
"You are delicious," Oliver murmurs against my flesh. "So wet for me. So fucking sweet."
His words push me higher. One of his fingers slides inside me carefully, testing. My body clenches around the intrusion, eager for more.
"More," I beg, past the point of pride. "Please, more."
A second finger joins the first, stretching me. The slight burn only adds to my pleasure, sharpening it to an almost painful edge. His tongue never stops its assault on my clit, working in tandem with his fingers until I'm completely lost.
"That's it," he encourages. "Come for me."
The command, coming from my supposed property, should anger me. Instead, it's exactly what I need. The tension coiling tighter and tighter snaps, pleasure crashing over me in waves so intense I see stars.
I cry out his name, my body convulsing around his fingers, my thighs clamping around his head. Oliver doesn't stop, working me through every spasm until I'm oversensitive and trembling.
When he finally pulls away, his face is glistening with my release. The sight is obscene and erotic and makes something possessive unfurl in my chest.
"Come here," I demand, my voice wrecked.
He crawls up my body, settling between my thighs again. His cock presses against my entrance, so close to where I'm empty and aching for him.
"We should stop," he says, even as his hips rock forward, the head of his cock sliding through my wetness. "If we do this, there's no going back."
"I know." My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. "I don't care. I just know I want you. Need you."
"Fuck." His control is fraying; I can see it in his eyes. "This is insane."
"Yes." I pull him down into a kiss, tasting myself on his tongue. "Do it anyway."
Oliver
She's giving me permission. Practically begging me. And I know I should refuse, should maintain whatever shred of sanity still exists between us. But I'm only human, and she's looking at me like I'm the only thing in the world that matters.
I've never wanted anything as much as I want this. Want her.
"I'll go slow," I promise, my voice rough.
"I don't want to hurt you." I press forward carefully, feeling the head of my cock breach her entrance.
She's so tight, so hot, and I have to struggle to maintain control.
Every instinct screams at me to thrust hard and deep, to claim her completely, but I force myself to go slow.
Primsyn's fingers dig into my shoulders, her breath hitching as I push deeper. I can feel the resistance, the final barrier that, once crossed, changes everything between us.
"Breathe," I murmur, kissing her jaw, her neck, anywhere I can reach. "Just breathe."
She does, her body relaxing slightly. I press deeper, feeling the barrier give way. She gasps, her nails raking down my back, but she doesn't tell me to stop.
"Okay?" I ask, holding myself still even though it's torture.
"Yes. More. I need more."
I push the rest of the way in, burying myself to the hilt. We both groan at the sensation of being fully joined. She's gripping me like a fist, her body throbbing around mine, adjusting to the intrusion.
"Gods, Primsyn. You feel..." I can't find words adequate to describe it.
Her legs tighten around my waist. "Move. Please move."
I pull back slowly, then thrust forward again. Finding a rhythm that lets her body adjust, watching her face for any sign of pain. But all I see is pleasure, her eyes dark and unfocused, her lips parted as she pants.
"Harder," she demands after a few moments. "I'm not going to break."
Something breaks inside me at those words. My control, already hanging by a thread, unravels completely. I pull almost all the way out and slam back in, the force of it making her cry out.
"Yes!" Her back arches, pressing her breasts against my chest. "Like that. Exactly like that."
I set a brutal pace, driving into her over and over. The bed frame creaks beneath us, the headboard banging against the wall. Anyone on this floor will know exactly what we're doing, but I can't bring myself to care.
All that matters is this. Her body beneath mine. The sounds she's making. The way she says my name like a prayer.
"Touch yourself," I growl. "I want to feel you come around my cock."
Primsyn's hand slides between us, her fingers finding her clit. I can feel the movement of her hand as she works herself, can feel the way her body clenches tighter around me in response.
"Oliver, I'm close. So close."
"Get there!" I drive deeper, changing my angle slightly, and she shatters.
Her orgasm crashes through her, her body convulsing around mine, milking my cock. The sensation is too much, too intense. I feel my own release building at the base of my spine, unstoppable.
"Primsyn!" Her name is torn from my throat as I pull out and crawl up to thrust into her mouth, spilling my seed deep in her throat. Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me, so intense it borders on pain.
I collapse beside her, both of us gasping for breath. My heart is hammering so hard I'm sure she can feel it. Her arms come around me, holding me close, and I let myself have this moment.
When my breathing finally slows, I start to pull away, but her arms tighten.
"Stay," she whispers. "Just for a little while."
So I do. I roll her, pulling her into me so we're tangled together. Her head rests on my chest, her hair spilling across my skin. My hand strokes up and down her back, soothing, gentling.
"That was..." she starts, then trails off.
"Yeah," I agree, because I don't have words for it either.
We lie in comfortable silence for several minutes. The gravity of what we just did hasn't fully hit yet, but I can feel it hovering at the edges of my consciousness.
"I should go," Primsyn finally says, but she doesn't move.
"Probably." I tighten my arm around her waist. "But you won't."
"No. I won't." She tilts her head up to look at me. "I should regret it."
"But you don't."
"No." She traces patterns on my chest with her finger. "I don't. And that terrifies me."
"Welcome to the club." I press a kiss to her forehead. "I'm fucking terrified too."
"What happens now?"
I don't have a good answer. "I don't know. We figure it out as we go, I guess."