Chapter 44 #2
The way he says that, so sincere and earnest, goes right to my head.
A quiet, hungry noise spills from my lips, and he grins, pulling me into another kiss.
There’s nothing soft about this one. It’s deep and searing, and when he plunges his tongue into my mouth, I can feel his piercing rubbing against my tongue, working me up.
I moan against his lips, wrapping my arms tightly around him, and when he presses a thigh between my legs, I can’t help but grind against it.
All thoughts of what happened earlier tonight fly out of my head. There are plenty of things to worry about, but right now, I’m so focused on the way Ransom’s mouth feels on mine that I can’t think about anything else.
When his hands start wandering, I arch against him, practically begging him to touch me more. I’m still sore in places, but I don’t care about that.
My body burns with heat and desire, and it’s as if now that I’ve had a taste of what it feels like to get fucked by these men, I can’t have enough of it.
Maybe Ransom feels the same way, because when he breaks away again, his eyes have gone dark and hot. He scoops me up and brings me over to the bed, laying me down gently before climbing up to loom over me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, and I flush warmly as he starts kissing at my neck.
He leaves a searing line of open-mouthed kisses along my pulse point, all the way to my collarbones, and I find myself writhing and panting underneath him.
“Please,” I gasp out, dragging a hand down the front of his shirt. “Please, Ransom.”
“What do you want, pretty girl?” he murmurs. “Tell me what you need.”
“You,” I pant. “Please. Touch me. I want your hands on me.”
He smirks and sits back a bit, grabbing the hem of my shirt to drag it up and over my head. His eyes rake over my skin, and the usual prickle of self-consciousness about my scars barely registers at all as he slips a hand behind me to unhook my bra.
“Fucking beautiful,” he says again, lowering his head to continue pressing kisses everywhere he can reach as he tugs my bra off and tosses it on the floor.
When he takes one of my nipples into his mouth, I arch up with a sharp cry, twisting the fingers of one hand into the bedsheets.
Ransom hums, alternating between laving at the sensitive peak with his tongue and sucking it between his lips.
He twists and teases my other nipple with his fingers, and I can feel myself getting wetter and wetter for him.
I moan out loud, the sound filling the quiet space of his bedroom, and he nips at my breast in response, careful to avoid my fresh tattoo. He kisses his way down my stomach and then makes quick work of getting my pants and panties out of the way, leaving me spread out naked on the bed for him.
“You look so damn good like this. Like a feast,” he says, flashing a grin up at me.
“Ransom,” I whimper. “Please…”
He spreads my legs with his hands, pushing them open wide enough that he can settle between them.
He drags two fingers down along my folds, and I shudder at the sensation.
My flesh is still battered and sensitive, a little swollen from everything that happened last night, and as blood rushes down between my legs, it only heightens those feelings.
“Poor thing,” he murmurs. “You’re still so sore down here, aren’t you?”
I am, but I don’t care. I want him.
He doesn’t wait for me to answer, just keeps going, sliding his fingers back up to tease at my clit. “We really did a number on this tight little hole of yours, didn’t we?”
“Y-yeah,” I gasp out. “Oh, fuck.”
The last word comes out on a sharp cry as Ransom dips his head and starts licking the same line his fingers just followed.
I writhe under him, feeling the pleasure building already as he eats me out.
He’s worked me up before with his hand, but it feels different this time. I don’t know if it’s the lingering soreness from getting fucked or what, but everything feels more sensitive now.
Ransom circles my clit with his tongue and then drags it back down to my hole.
He licks around the entrance for a bit and then stiffens his tongue and thrusts it inside me.
I can feel his piercing in a whole new way like this, and I squirm, moaning his name and reaching one hand down to tangle in his thick hair.
“Oh god,” I breathe. “Ransom, your mouth. Fuck.”
He chuckles, and the sound is half muffled against my swollen flesh. When he lifts his head a bit, I can see that his lips are slick from my arousal, and he makes a show of licking them slowly, dragging his tongue along the bottom one and then the top, catching my attention.
“You love this, don’t you?” he teases. “Being a bad girl. Giving in to the things you feel and not holding back.”
I whine softly, my core mourning the loss of the heat of his mouth. His fingers replace his lips and tongue a moment later, and I arch my back, the heat in my body climbing.
“You look so good like this,” he continues. “Letting yourself go. Taking what you want. You’re a damn siren, you know that?”
His mouth joins his fingers again, and he keeps licking at my pussy, working me up with his tongue as he pumps one finger slowly in and out of me.
When he adds a second finger, I cry out breathlessly.
The stretch is there just like it was last night, but it doesn’t burn as much as it did before. Maybe I’m getting used to it.
The soreness is fading, and I don’t know if that’s because Ransom really is kissing it better or because the endorphins surging through me are making everything warm and gooey with pleasure so that I don’t register any pain at all.
Either way, I start climbing toward my orgasm, breathing harder and shaking under Ransom’s ministrations.
I breathe out a little plea, right on the cusp of falling apart, and he doubles down, thrusting his tongue into me as deeply as he can, his face absolutely buried between my legs.
“Come for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice muffled. “Come on my face.”
Stars burst in front of my eyes as my hips buck upward, and he moves with me, keeping his tongue pressed right where I want it as he licks me through my orgasm, leaving me a panting, flushed mess on the bed.
“God, I fucking love the sounds you make.”
Ransom presses one more kiss to my clit, then crawls his way back up so we’re face to face.
When his mouth finds me, I can taste the sweet tang of my own release on his lips and tongue.
It’s addicting, getting these little hints of what I taste like to him, and I find myself kissing him deeper, seeking out more of it.
When he finally pulls away, his breathing is ragged, and I can see the thick bulge of his cock in his pants. He pulls back enough that he can undress himself, and then he’s back on top of me again almost immediately, as if he’s drawn to me like a magnet.
“What about your stitches?” I ask, wincing as I glance down at the side of his leg.
He chuckles, the head of his cock grazing my opening. “They’ll be fine. If I pop ’em, I’ll have Malice redo them tomorrow. But nothing could keep me from wanting to be inside you right now.”
Worry still twists inside my gut, but as he starts to press his thick length into me, it becomes harder and harder to focus on anything else.
It’s still a lot to take, and my body has to work to adjust to it, but it feels more natural than it did last night.
His piercings rub against my walls, and I gasp softly at the sensation.
Somehow, without the haze of alcohol and endorphins from the tattoo and the intensity of the other two brothers watching, it’s like I can feel more.
I can focus on Ransom and the way he pumps into me, slowly at first, but quickly picking up the pace.
“Fuck,” he groans, dipping his head to rest in the hollow between my neck and shoulder. “You’re so fucking tight, angel. I can feel your pretty little hole gripping my cock like it doesn’t want to let go. Goddamn, you feel so good.”
My cheeks flush darker at that, and I don’t know how to respond.
So I just start moving my hips a little, lifting up to meet Ransom halfway into the thrusts.
The room fills with the sounds of sex—our harsh, ragged breathing, Ransom’s grunts of pleasure, the soft noises that spill out of me as he starts pounding into me deeper—and I lose myself in all of it.
I can hear his skin slapping against mine, and even though he’s not fucking into me with the brutal need that Malice did, it’s still so much. It still feels like he’s lancing through me with his cock, keeping me split open and impaled.
And I love it.
I love the friction and the heat, and the way he kisses me every so often, grounding me in the moment. I cling to him like a life line, my hands gripping at his shoulders, as all of the feelings colliding in my chest threaten to overwhelm me.
Is it always going to be this much? Or does it feel this way because I’m still so new to all of this?
I don’t know, and I can’t keep my mind focused on that question.
All I can do is try to weather the sensations, trying to stay afloat in the waves of pleasure and the torrents of emotion that race through me.
The warm aftershocks of my first orgasm start to grow and build toward a second climax, and I moan Ransom’s name, my nails digging into his shoulders as I hold on for dear life.
“I’m so—” I manage to get out.
“I’ve got you. Fuck, I’m close too. Can you wait for me, baby? I want to feel you clench around me when I come.”
Honestly, I don’t know if I can wait. I wasn’t sure if my overstimulated body could work up another orgasm, but now that it’s close, it seems to be barreling down on me like a runaway train.
Ransom keeps rocking into me, the base of his cock grinding against my clit every time he bottoms out, pushing me closer and closer to the looming abyss of pleasure.
“Ransom! Ah!”
My pussy goes tight around him as I fall apart, trying to focus on remembering how to breathe.
He isn’t far behind me, and he pumps into me a few more times, swearing under his breath as his forehead rests against mine.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans, finally collapsing on top of me as the pulses of his cock start to slow.
We lie there together for a long time, our bodies pressed together, sweaty and breathing hard. It takes several minutes for my heart rate to slow down and everything to stop tingling, but eventually, the sleepy warmth of the afterglow settles in, and I stifle a yawn.
Ransom notices it and laughs, nuzzling against me.
“We should clean up or something, but I can’t be fucked right now,” he mumbles. “Too tired.” He nips at my neck. “Besides, I like the idea of you falling asleep with my cum in you.”
I don’t think that’s very hygienic, if I remember a few conversations I overheard back at Sapphire correctly, but I can’t bring myself to care all that much right now.
I’m too comfortable, and some part of me wants to stay marked up like this, sticky and content.
So when he rolls off me, I just nestle into his arms, letting his release trickle down over my thigh.
“How are your stitches?” I murmur sleepily.
“Can’t feel them at all. You’re magic, pretty girl. The best kind of medicine.”
He presses a kiss to my hair, tucking my head under his chin as he pulls me closer against his body. Less than five minutes later, I’m asleep.