Chapter 3 Viviana #2
He pulls the thong down my legs, noticing the evidence of what he does to me. Lifting the material to his nose, he inhales, and a shiver uncoils from deep within me. I might come right on the spot. I don’t think I need much—one more touch, one more kiss.
The sexual tension wraps around us like tendrils of smoke, denoting more than compatibility and lust but sharing something deeply intimate. Undeniable.
“Fuck, you smell good. I bet you taste even better,” he says before he slaps my thighs apart. He wears a mischievous grin as he buries his head between my legs and licks me from bottom to top.
My eyes pop open, the sensation to die for.
“Oh my god,” I murmur, gripping the sheet. “What is this?”
He smirks. “My tongue up your delectable pussy. It’s just the two of us, baby. You can scream for God, but you come for me.”
He continues to tease my body to the point of sensory overload. I’ve made myself come, but what he does to my body is incomparable.
When his thumb comes into play, rubbing circles around my clit with just the right pressure and constant rhythm, coupled with his hungry lips eating me, I tumble straight into another dimension.
Everything becomes brighter, more colorful, speeding before my eyes as a wave of pleasure pulls me under. I come on a long moan, strangling the sheet to anchor myself and not slip into euphoria. Maybe he is a god after all. A sex god. And here I thought luck would never grace me with its presence.
“Good girl,” he says, prolonging the pleasure that tears me apart in the best way possible.
I catch my breath as stars fade from my view, and my body stops trembling.
My release glistens all over his chin, and he licks it, groaning low in his throat. “I knew you’d taste delicious.”
Pupils blown, his eyes appear more black than brown.
As he climbs on top of me, he holds himself on his forearm and with the other, he cups my pussy.
“Stop teasing me,” I whine, needing him inside of me before he kills me with pleasure. I don’t want to die before feeling him inside of me first.
He rubs his nose against mine. “I’m not teasing you, little brat. I am preparing you.”
“I’m not a brat,” I pout.
Something warm and fuzzy spreads through my chest as I experience this intimacy wrapped in playfulness.
He gives me a pointed look, not buying it. “Don’t worry, baby, I can handle you.”
For a moment, I get the impression he’s referring to more than my brattiness. Who knew I could be one? With him, I learn a lot of new things about myself. It’s utterly exhilarating, but most of all, it gives me this homey feeling.
He inches a finger into my soaked pussy, groaning, “You’re so tight.”
“Is that good?”
He shakes his head, eyes narrowing as if he hates causing me pain. “Not for you. Not for your first time when you have to take me.”
Terrified he will change his mind, I dig my nails into his back and moan in his ear, “You said you’ll make it fit.”
His entire body vibrates—a mountain rocking under the force of an earthquake. A mere human has a god at her fingertips and it’s beyond empowering.
“You’re fucking killing me.”
He pushes in a second finger, preparing me with gentle strokes and unyielding diligence.
The pressure, the discomfort always increases right before he makes it better, distracting me with his sinful lips, pleasuring me with his thumb circling my clit.
Instinctively, I trace my palm down his abdomen, mapping every chiseled ridge, memorizing having this man above me, giving me more pleasure than I thought.
He must like my touch because a groan rumbles in his throat, continuing to stretch me. Torn between the need to focus on my pleasure and exploring him, I am pounding on sweet release’s door again.
Palming his dick, I rub against the hardness. He throws his head back, teeth digging into his bottom lip as I trace my finger along the length pulsing in its confinement. I have no idea how he’ll fit, but I will take him even if it destroys my pussy.
“I could come from your touch alone,” he grunts, not liking the idea.
I love to affect him. The power drugs me while he gets me addicted to passion.
The unabashed exploration, coupled with his index and middle fingers conquering my insides, triggers another release. It doesn’t take long for my body to tense up, chasing the ultimate high and the imminent fall back to earth.
I can’t believe I came a second time. Apparently, multiple orgasms are not a myth.
He holds me through my orgasm, kissing my temple, my eyelids, peppering my entire face with kisses.
I wish I could freeze time and just live in this moment, in his arms as he worships me.
“I want you so badly. Fuck if I have ever desired anything more,” he says, voice coated in sincerity and a hint of surprise as if he didn’t expect that. Me.
“Me either,” I whisper.
I am too preoccupied, drowning in his eyes, to notice him discarding his boxer briefs.
Feeling his thick head at my entrance, my belly knots, and I suck in a breath.
“I’m sorry,” he says and rips through me in one go.
The pain is too much, too sudden. A cry ripples from my throat, and I dig my nails into his back, leaving scratch marks behind. His cock threatens to destroy my pussy.
The fullness, the stretch, the discomfort tear me apart. Good God, I came twice, so why does it still hurt? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I thrash under him, wanting to push him out—in vain. He stays firmly buried inside me, an unmovable stone, squishing my lungs.
Gripping my chin, he forces me to look into his eyes, the contact calming me down. “I have you. Breathe.”
Something tells me I will never breathe again without feeling him.