SIX #2
A low curse reaches my ears before his hand wraps around my throat, and his hot breath fans my lips.
“We’ll get there, Sammy.” He rolls his hips in a barely-there thrust that makes my eyes roll back. “Fuck, we’ll get there. I just—Let me do something else first.”
I nod dazedly, not asking what he wants to do first. It’s not important.
I know that whatever it is, he’ll take care of me.
A sound of protest leaves me when he starts to lift off me, but I hum in contentment when he soothes me with a brief kiss to the corner of my eye. On the same spot he kissed me earlier when I was upset.
He slides down my body as much as the couch allows, half-sitting half-hovering, and I watch him bend over me, sucking in a breath when I feel his warm lips on the inside of my thigh.
My eyes flutter dangerously, but I don’t want to stop watching him. I don’t want to miss a single thing this man does to me tonight. I want to remember it forever in case—
In case it’s the only time I get to have him.
I expect him to go for my hole, or my cock, but he doesn’t.
He cradles my hips, and peppers dozens of small kisses on my thighs until I lose count.
Gently. So gently I can’t breathe.
And my heart races when I realize what he’s doing. He doesn’t touch the shirt I’m wearing, doesn’t lift it up, or strip it off me. He only kisses the parts he can see, nothing more.
Because I told him I didn’t want him to see me.
It’s the moment I know I have nothing to fear with him.
“Devon?” I whisper, and his eyes lock with mine in the semi-darkness, a darkness disrupted only by the streaks of pale moonlight, and the tiny lights of other buildings in the distance. “Will you—Will you help me out of this shirt?”
His cedarwood and bergamot scent spikes, growing so thick I swear I can feel it wrapping itself around me. But it’s not overwhelming. It doesn’t surge towards me with the intention to subdue, to make me submit to its will.
No. It curls around me almost protectively, easing my nerves. So I give in to it completely, and it feels wonderful. All tension drains from me, my body loosening, my mind relaxing, and I smile when I hear a soft purr, looking at the man responsible for that sound.
His eyes are bright and intense, fixed on me in a way that makes me feel beautiful. Like I’m the center of his whole attention. Me. Only me.
His warm hands massage the skin he was kissing just moments ago before he runs his knuckles lightly over my hard cock through the thin material.
I tremble violently.
“Shh, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Sammy,” he rasps, reaching for the lowest button.
I hold my breath as the shirt falls open, because I know what he sees apart from how much I want him. My pink, C-section scar, mostly healed but still raised even after almost four months.
His eyes flick up to me, some unnamed emotion burning in them before his head dips and he kisses the very edge of my scar. And then goes on, and on, kissing every inch, his palm fisting my cock and pumping it slowly while his lips trace every small bump.
And I feel like I’m dying, like my heart will burst, like I’m seconds from crying, from coming, from begging him to never stop.
He doesn’t. He opens button after button, mapping with his mouth every reddish-brown line, every stretch mark on my hips, nuzzling my soft belly, touching reverently every part he uncovers.
My chest rises and falls rapidly when there are no buttons left and the shirt lies loose and completely open, baring everything to his unwavering gaze.
I need… I need to touch him too. I want to feel him so much.
He’s still playing with my cock when I hitch my knees higher, pressing them against his sides, urging him to come closer.
Something primal flashes in his expression, a predatory smirk pulling at his lips as he looms over me once more, bracing a hand on the armrest above my head.
“No…” I whine pitifully when he releases my aching length, but I cry out when his fingers plunge deep into me, my body bowing under his.
“You’re wound tight, my sweet, aren’t you?
” he murmurs, his fingers sinking and withdrawing over and over in a hypnotizing, torturous movement that has me panting, arching into his touch.
“So warm, so soft, so perfect. Look at how you suck in my fingers, Sam. Look at you all soaked for me. Let me see if I can make you drip more.”
The words haven’t even completely left his mouth before his fingers curl and he rubs my gland mercilessly.
“Devon…” His name is the only thing on my lips as pleasure radiates through my entire body, pulsing so hard that for a moment, I think I’m actually coming.
I reach for his body blindly, one hand clinging to his shoulder while the other holds on to his extended arm, my nails digging into the taut muscle of his bicep, trying desperately to anchor myself to him.
He presses even harder into me, and a moan rips out of me as the most wonderful relief floods my senses.
Except… My cock is still hard, and my gland is still pulsing in tandem with Devon’s touch. Then what—
A growl fills the room, and I look up blearily, finding pitch-black eyes trained on me. On my face. On my throat.
On my chest.
I follow his gaze, and I inhale sharply when I realize where my earlier sense of relief came from.
Mortification fills me as milk trickles out of me, glistening on my chest. I make a feeble attempt to loosen my hold on Devon, to use my hands to cover myself, but I’m suddenly pinned under his strong body, unable to make a single move.
His fingers are still inside me as his wild gaze fixates on the sight of my stained chest, no trace of the professional businessman to be found.
He’s all instinct as his fingers resume their movement, pushing deep where I need him, rendering me a mindless mess.
He looks like nothing more than a beast that feeds on the shameless sounds spilling from my lips as pearly-white milk flows out of me with every grinding thrust.
“I want your milk on my tongue, little omega,” he whispers in a barely-recognizable gravelly voice as I’m suddenly left empty.
The loss of him is unbearable, but a small, eager whimper bubbles up in my throat when the blunt head of his cock notches in my entrance.
“I want your milk on my tongue, your screams in my ears, and my cum so deep inside you, you’ll leak me for fucking days.
” He grips my thigh, opening me up more for him, and sliding inside every perfect, hard inch, until he’s seated fully in me, and there’s no breath left in my lungs.
He doesn’t wait for me to adjust. He just folds me in half, and snaps his hips, fucking me ruthlessly in powerful thrusts that shove me higher on the couch, taking me hard and deep, his cock dragging relentlessly over every single aching, throbbing spot inside me.
He chuckles darkly when I scream, when the pleasure builds and builds with nowhere to go.
I’m nothing but a vessel of need when he dips his head, and laps up everything I spilled.
When he chases my milk back to its source, and his lips latch onto my sensitive, swollen-red nipple.
When he sucks hard on my tit, and I feel him drink from me.
God, yes.
Blinding ecstasy races through me as he fucks into me like a man possessed, sucking on me and drinking from me like a ravenous beast.
And I let myself feel it all, my body arching under his to take more, my hands tangling in his dark hair to keep him right where he is.
A pleased whine leaves him as I meet his thrusts, the slapping sounds of our bodies, the sucking sounds of his mouth, and the obscene sounds of our fucking on the leather couch making up a depraved symphony I can’t get enough of.
His thrusts get faster, shallower, his mouth releasing my nipple so he can lick up my throat, nip the skin behind my ear.
“Do you feel good, Sammy?” His voice is different, still rough but softer, and when he pierces me with his gray eyes, my heart stutters at the tender look. “You’re quivering around me.”
I press my limbs harder against him, wishing I could fuse us together.
“Yes. Yes, you’re making me feel so good, Devon. Please, need—I need—” I forget what I’m saying when he angles every single thrust against my gland, choked-off moans breaking from me as my orgasm rushes down my spine.
“Fuck yeah, I know what you need. Tighten more around me, my sweet Sammy. Fucking strangle my cock, and come.”
The last word is a growl, a command, a plea, and I break, pleasure swallowing me whole as the dam finally breaks, and release washes over me.
My cock jerks on my belly, and my insides clamp down on the hot length still rocking into me, drawing out my climax until I’m nothing but completely fucked-out.
I’m so out of it, I almost don’t notice the way Devon gathers my body as best as he can with one arm, keeping me locked to him as he pours himself inside me.
He’s breathing hard against my temple, kissing the sweaty curls as his knot grows and stretches inside me, shivers wracking both our bodies at the feeling.
I have no idea how he manages to shift us, or how the couch even fits us like this, and I don’t even care.
All I care about is that I’m in his arms, cradled in the warmth of his body.
He doesn’t say anything as his palm finds my cheek, as he caresses me gently, as his fingers slide into my messed-up hair, carding through the strands, just like he did that night.
And I don’t say anything either as I melt into his touch, as I crane my neck and ask silently for what I want.
He kisses me slowly, unhurriedly, with soft, drugging pulls on my lips that steal my breath, and lazy strokes of his tongue that make me sigh in bliss.
He doesn’t stop until my eyes droop.
His heartbeat drums strong beneath my ear as I drift off.