Chapter Fourteen – Lira #2
My arousal catches the light, a glossy sheen over his skin. He watches me watch him, and then he parts his lips and sucks one finger into his mouth.
His tongue swirls.
Then the next finger.
And I whimper , throat tightening, breath stalling completely as I watch his mouth close around the slick digits and clean them like he’s savoring every drop I left on him.
I can’t take my eyes off him.
The air feels thick between us—water clinging to my skin, heat building under it, and the way he looks at me like he owns my body, my sounds, the quiver in my thighs.
He doesn’t speak.
He just lowers his head.
His lips graze the inside of my thigh, right where the muscle pulses wildly from where I’ve been fucked open and left aching. His tongue flicks , and my legs jerk. I brace myself against the edge of the pool, arms shaking.
He kisses there again—then lower.
Down my thigh, to my knee.
Down farther, toward my calf.
He lifts my right leg fully out of the water. He cradles my ankle in his hand, lifting it with reverence as if I’m something holy. The water beads on my skin and drips into the pool below.
Then he kisses the top of my foot.
His eyes flick back to mine—still watching—still hungry—and then I feel it:
His mouth wraps around my big toe.
My head drops back with a helpless, broken moan.
His tongue swirls around it.
He sucks.
The pull is slow, wet, obscene—and it shoots straight up my spine like lightning. I gasp, clutching the stone edge behind me as his lips move to the next toe. And the next. Each one pulled into his mouth, tongue teasing between them, sucking until my hips twitch and my moans turn high and tight.
His mouth leaves my foot with a final wet kiss, and I can’t stop the low, wrecked sound that escapes my throat.
Then he lifts my leg higher.
I feel his tongue again— dragging slowly beneath the arch of my foot, across my ankle, up the inside of my calf. Wet heat strokes the back of my knee, and my thighs twitch as the sensation climbs, relentless and slow.
He licks higher. Under my thigh.
The backs of my knees. The tender skin where no one touches. His breath follows his mouth, each exhale brushing over wet skin and raising goosebumps across every inch of me.
He kisses the underside of my thigh—open-mouthed, sucking—and I jolt.
Then his hands are under me again, lifting me effortlessly off the ledge and back into the water.
I gasp as the warmth rushes over my bare skin.
He holds me there, suspended, pressed to his chest. One arm supports my lower back while his mouth moves to my stomach—licking just above my pelvis, up to my navel, then higher, chest rising and falling under his mouth.
Then his lips brush my collarbone.
My throat.
My jaw.
And finally—he kisses me.
Mouth to mouth.
Wet lips and tongue and heat. My hands drift helplessly to his shoulders, fingers clutching muscle slick with water.
Then he turns me.
He spins me in the water—slow, smooth, commanding—and I feel the cool stone of the pool’s edge under my palms as he places them there. My breasts press against the ledge. My hips float behind me.
He strips me completely. Bikini bottoms slide away in the water. I hear the whisper of wet fabric falling to the side.
Then I feel him do the same.
The warm brush of his body against mine—naked now. His cock pressing thick and ready at the curve of my ass.
He slides one arm under my stomach to guide me. His other hand finds my hip, anchoring me in place.
And then—He enters me.
Thick stretch splitting me open from behind.
I moan into the tile, nails scratching the stone as he slides into my soaked cunt inch by inch, water swirling around us, warmth cocooning every angle of my body.
He leans over me.
His chest on my back. His lips at my ear.
He licks —hot and lazy—and then I hear his voice, low and steady:
“Do you still remember him,” he breathes, “when it feels this good?”
I gasp.
I can’t answer.
My mouth opens but all that comes out is a shudder.
He growls behind me.
And then—his hand wraps around my jaw, pulling my head back gently but firmly. His fingers press into my cheeks as he bends low, mouth at my ear again.
“Answer me.”
The words snap through my spine like lightning.
I gasp out, trembling: “No.”
He thrusts harder.
One deep push that knocks the breath from my lungs and sends heat ripping through my belly. My thighs shake, pussy clenching around him as he sinks in fully and holds me there, body pressed to mine.
“Good girl,” he growls.
His cock stays buried inside me, thick and throbbing, the stretch so deep it feels carved into me now. One of his hands moves—sliding around my waist, dripping with water—and the other anchors under my ass as he shifts.
His arms flex, and he turns me.
The water ripples around us as he lifts me fully off the pool’s edge. I gasp, legs floating behind me as he pivots, one smooth, fluid motion that pulls me off the wall and into his chest.
And then—
I wrap my legs around him.
Thighs clutching tight. Ankles crossing behind his back. His cock presses even deeper at the new angle, forcing a high, cracked moan out of me as my arms fly up around his shoulders, clutching the wet curve of his neck.
The water rocks against us, swirling heat around my waist while he holds me up, buried to the hilt.
He doesn’t thrust—not yet.
Just holds me there, full and stretched and shaking in his arms. I feel the strain in his grip, the tight pull of his muscles under my fingertips, his heart hammering against my chest.
And then he moves.
His hips tilt upward, slow and grinding, dragging his cock against every aching nerve inside me as he thrusts deep—slow, controlled, like he wants to feel every inch of it. I gasp, spine arching, breasts pressing into the slick heat of his chest.
Then his mouth finds my neck.
His lips are wet and hot, dragging over my skin, teeth grazing just above my collarbone. I moan, my head tilting back instinctively, giving him access. He licks along the arch of my throat, and I feel the suction as he pulls me into his mouth.
I shudder.
His cock pulses inside me. His hands grip tighter—one spreading across the small of my back, the other molding to my ass like he needs it under his palm.
He bites.
A claiming nip just beneath my jaw. I cry out, the sound tumbling from my lips before I even register it. My nails dig into his back, legs squeezing around him as he rolls his hips again.
The friction is overwhelming.
Thick. Deep. The head of his cock grinds up into that swollen spot inside me that makes my thighs quake every time he hits it. I can feel my slick mixing with the water, hot and slippery, coating us both.
And I want more.
I lift my mouth to his—eyes fluttering closed—and bite his bottom lip.
He groans into me, and his hips slam forward in answer, burying his cock to the base. I moan into his mouth, gasping as he rocks into me again, and again, never rushing—but deep, deliberate, dragging every sensation through me like a flame.
I lean in and bite his neck.
Right where it meets the curve of his shoulder, my teeth sinking into wet skin.
He jerks beneath me with a hiss, hands flexing against my ass.
He keeps fucking me through it, cock surging inside me, but I don’t stop biting.
My lips stay there—sucking, grazing, licking the water from his skin as I hold on, pulsing around him.
He’s inside me completely.
Not just physically— fully . I can’t breathe without feeling the weight of him. My whole body feels like it exists around the shape of his cock, around the rhythm of his breath. Every thrust sends pressure curling tighter inside me, like I’ll break if he stops and shatter if he doesn’t.
And still—I don’t let go.
My arms stay locked around his neck; fingers tangled in his soaked hair. My thighs grip his waist, muscles burning. I want to fuse into him. Be claimed. Be filled. Be taken so far I forget who I am.