13. Surrender and Strength #2
I shatter with a cry of his name, pleasure crashing through me in waves. He doesn’t let up, licking and sucking until I’m squirming from oversensitivity, begging him to stop.
When he finally pulls away, his beard glistens with evidence of my arousal. The sight makes me throb with renewed want despite my recent orgasm.
My body still trembles from the intensity of it as Micah rises from his knees, his dark eyes locked on mine. He starts at my feet, pressing reverent kisses to each ankle, working his way up my calves with a combination of lips, tongue, and teeth that makes me shiver.
When he reaches my thighs, he takes his time, alternating between gentle kisses and sharp nips that make me gasp.
His beard scratches deliciously against my sensitive skin as he marks me, claiming every inch as his own.
Each bite is followed by soothing licks and kisses, building a mounting tension that has me squirming.
“Stay still,” he growls against my hip bone before sucking a mark there that makes me whimper. “Be good for me.”
I force myself to remain motionless as he works his way up my stomach, paying special attention to the fading scars. His touch is gentle as he kisses each mark, as if trying to erase the painful memories with tenderness.
By the time he reaches my breasts, I’m panting with need.
He takes his time here too, cupping their weight in his large hands while his mouth explores thoroughly.
When he finally takes a nipple between his lips, sucking hard while pinching the other between thumb and forefinger, I can’t help but arch into the sensation.
“Please,” I gasp, not even sure what I’m begging for anymore. Everything. Anything. Just more of his mouth, his hands, his overwhelming presence.
“Patience, lovely,” he says against my skin. “Let me worship you.”
Fresh heat floods through me. No one has ever touched me like this—like I’m precious, like my pleasure matters, like I deserve to be cherished rather than used.
The scrape of Micah’s beard against my sensitive skin sends shivers down my spine as he lavishes attention on my breasts. He alternates between gentle kisses and sharp nips and I arch into his touch once again. Each bite is followed by soothing strokes of his tongue, building a mounting tension.
“So responsive,” he murmurs. “Such perfect, sensitive nipples. I could play with them for hours.”
The dual sensation makes me cry out, my hands flying to tangle in his hair. He growls approvingly around my flesh, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core.
When he finally releases my nipple with a wet pop, the cool air makes me shiver.
But before I can protest the loss, his mouth is on mine again.
This kiss is different from our earlier ones—deeper, hungrier, with an edge of desperation that makes my toes curl.
I can taste myself on his tongue and the combination of flavors—him and me together—is intoxicating.
I pour everything I’m feeling into the kiss—my gratitude for his gentleness, my amazement at how he makes me feel safe even in my vulnerability, my growing feelings I’m not ready to name but can’t deny.
His hands frame my face as he returns the kiss with equal intensity, thumbs stroking my cheeks with surprising tenderness given the heat between us.
When we finally break apart, both breathing heavily, his dark eyes search mine.
Whatever he sees there makes him groan and capture my lips again, as if he can’t bear to stop kissing me.
I understand the feeling. After being starved for real intimacy for so long, every touch, every kiss feels like water in the desert. I never want it to end.
It feels like a lifetime passes before he finally breaks free and pushes to his feet. He stares down at me—disheveled, lips swollen, legs spread wide, pussy wet—and groans in approval.
He grabs my legs and presses my knees up, opening me even more, cock fully hard again as he steps between my thighs.
“Are you ready for me, lovely?” he asks, voice rough with desire. “Ready to take my cock? I’m going to fuck you hard, make you come on my cock like the good girl you are.”
“Yes,” I breathe, beyond shame or hesitation. “Please, I need you inside me.”
He crawls onto the bed, positioning himself between my thighs with his arms looped under my knees. The head of his cock nudges my entrance as he braces himself.
“Watch,” he orders. “Watch how good your pussy takes my cock.”
I prop myself up on my elbows, unable to look away as he begins pushing inside me. He enters me slowly at first, giving me time to adjust to his size. Then, when I’m stretched around him, he pulls back and slams home.
“Micah,” I cry as he fills me completely. The slight burn of the stretch only adds to my pleasure as he sets a painfully slow rhythm.
“Such a good girl,” he praises, maintaining that torturously slow pace. “Your pussy is squeezing me so tight. You were made for my cock, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” I whimper, unable to look away from where we’re joined. “Please, more.”
He chuckles but it’s sinful, which excites me even more. “Patience, lovely. I want to savor this—savor you.” His hips roll in a way that makes me see stars. “Want to feel every inch of your sweet pussy wrapped around me.”
His words combined with the relentless slow drag of his cock leave me twisting beneath him. Each withdrawal leaves me feeling empty, desperate for him to fill me again. And each time he pushes back in, stretching me wide, I can’t help but moan his name.
“That’s it.” His eyes lock on where he disappears inside me. “Take all of me. Such a perfect little pussy.”
My inner walls flutter around him as his praise washes over me. Each slow thrust feels like worship, like he’s claiming me inside and out.
“Please,” I beg.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” he soothes, maintaining that maddening pace. “Just feel me. Feel how deep I am, how perfectly we fit together.”
I feel every glorious inch of him moving inside me, stretching me in ways that walk the perfect line between pleasure and sweet ache. My body welcomes him eagerly, walls quivering around his thick length. Each thrust feels deeper than the last, hitting spots inside me I never knew existed.
“That’s it, lovely.” His voice is strained as it becomes increasingly more difficult for him to hold back. “Take all of me.”
His words send shivers down my spine, and I clench around him. The responding moan that rumbles through his chest makes me feel powerful despite my submissive position. I did that. I made this strong, controlled man lose his composure.
My hands roam his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles flex with each measured thrust. The contrast between his size and mine, between his strength and my yielding, creates a heady mix of vulnerability and safety that has me floating.
I’ve never felt so protected, so treasured, even as he claims me with increasing intensity.
His eyes lock with mine, dark with desire but also something deeper—a tenderness that makes my heart ache. The emotion overwhelms me, bringing unexpected tears to my eyes even as pleasure builds low in my belly.
“I’ve got you,” he reassures me, pressing his forehead to mine without breaking his rhythm. “Let go for me. Show me how good it feels.”
And I do. I surrender completely to the sensations he creates—the delicious friction of his cock dragging against my walls, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress, the scratch of his beard against my sensitive skin as he kisses my neck.
Every nerve ending feels alive, singing with pleasure as he works me higher and higher.
His pace remains deliberate, each thrust precise and devastating in its intensity. He’s fucking me like he has all the time in the world, like my pleasure is the only thing that matters. The realization makes me whimper, my legs tightening around his waist as I try to pull him even deeper.
“That’s it.” His pace increases but his control remains steady. “Take my cock like a good girl. Tell me how good it feels.”
“Please,” I gasp between thrusts. “Please don’t stop. Feels so good.”
“Look at that greedy pussy, taking me so deep.” His words make me clench around him. “Such a perfect girl. So fucking perfect for me.”
His praise combined with the relentless pounding of his cock builds another orgasm faster than I thought possible.
“I’m close,” I warn, fingers clutching his shoulders.
“Come for me,” he commands, “come all over my cock, lovely.”
His words send me over the edge. I come with a cry of his name, walls clenching around him as pleasure whites out my vision. He fucks me through it, pace growing erratic as his own release approaches.
With a final thrust, he buries himself deep and comes with a growl of my name. I feel him pulsing inside me, marking me as his in the most primal way.