32. Sanctuary Rebuilt
Sanctuary Rebuilt
Micah
N aomi’s soft moans fill our hotel room as she rides me with agonizing slowness, her tight wet pussy gripping my cock with each deliberate roll of her hips.
My hands span her waist, guiding but not controlling her movements as she takes her pleasure. Her head falls back, exposing the elegant line of her throat.
“You’re absolutely breathtaking when you’re like this.” I groan when she rolls her hips, grinding down on my cock.
My eyes land on the fading bruises from where Tommy’s knife still mars her pale skin. The sight of those marks ignites familiar rage, quickly tempered by the reality before me. Naomi is alive, safe, moving above me with growing confidence as she explores her own desires.
Two weeks since I nearly lost her. Two weeks of refusing to let her out of my sight. Not from fear—the threats have been eliminated. Francesca’s dead and her organization is in chaos.
No, I keep her close because I cannot get enough of her. Of this.
“So beautiful.” I slide one hand up to cup her breast. Her nipple pebbles against my palm, drawing another breathy sound from her throat. “Love watching you like this. Taking what you need.”
A flush spreads across her chest at my words, her rhythm faltering. Even after weeks together, praise still affects her—makes her sweet, tight pussy pulse around me, dripping with need.
I lean forward, replacing my hand with my mouth, sucking her nipple between my teeth with careful pressure. Her fingers tangle in my hair, holding me against her chest as she grinds down harder.
Her soft whimpers grow more desperate as I lavish attention on her breasts, alternating between gentle kisses and firmer suction that makes her squirm. My beard scratches against her sensitive skin, adding another layer of sensation that has her grinding down harder on my cock.
“Micah.” She breathes my name on a sigh, her fingers still tangled in my hair, holding me close as if afraid I’ll stop. As if I could ever deny her anything she wants.
I switch to her other breast, dragging my tongue across her nipple before sucking it between my teeth.
Her pussy clenches around me in response, drawing a groan from deep in my chest. Even these slow, lazy movements are enough to drive me wild—the way she uses my body for her own satisfaction shows how far she’s come from the timid woman who first came to me.
Her hips maintain that torturous rhythm, rising and falling with a grace that speaks of growing confidence in her own sexuality. Each roll of her hips sends sparks of pleasure through my body, but it’s the little sounds she makes—soft gasps and breathy moans—that truly undo me.
I release her breast to trail kisses up her chest, along her collarbone, paying special attention to the places where bruises are finally fading. Her movements stutter when I reach a particularly sensitive spot, her nails digging into my shoulders.
“That’s it, my lovely,” I say against her skin. “Look at you, so perfect. Such a good girl for me.”
She responds by grinding down harder, her pussy gripping me like a vice as she works herself on my cock.
“Please,” she begs. “Please touch me. Please don’t stop. Please never let me go.”
My hands return to her hips, controlling her movements now as I thrust up to meet each downward roll. The change in angle draws a sharp gasp from her throat.
“Like that?” I ask, though her response is obvious in the way her inner muscles clench around me. “Tell me what you need.”
“You,” she manages between increasingly desperate sounds. “Just you. Always you.”
“You’ll always have me,” I say. “I want you to tell me how you want me to fuck you.”
My cock pulses inside her as she continues those torturous, slow movements. She’s lost in the sensations—head thrown back, eyes closed, those perfect breasts bouncing with each motion.
“Answer me, lovely.” My hands tighten on her hips. “Tell me how you want it.”
She whimpers, her inner muscles clenching around me again at the commanding tone. It pleases me immensely how much my dominance affects her, how much it brings her pleasure. Her fingers dig deeper into my shoulders as she tries to maintain her rhythm.
“I need…” she starts, breaking off with a gasp when I thrust up sharply.
“Need what?” I demand, holding her still. “Use your words. Tell me exactly what you want.”
Her eyes finally open, meeting mine with a mix of desperation and trust. “More,” she whispers. “Harder. Please.”
“Please what?” I press, needing to hear her say it.
“Own me,” she breathes, her voice breaking on the words. “Make me yours. Please, Micah.”
The raw need in her voice, the complete surrender in her expression, ignites a desire so fierce I nearly break my restraint. My hands tighten further on her hips, sure to leave marks—the kind she welcomes. Proof of pleasure rather than pain.
“Mine,” I growl against her throat. “Say it again.”
“Yours,” she gasps. “Only yours. Always yours.”
I increase our pace, drinking in the sight of her above me—red curls wild around her face, skin flushed with arousal, green eyes heavy-lidded but holding mine with unwavering connection.
This hotel room, sterile and impersonal despite its luxury, becomes a sanctuary through her presence.
We’ve moved frequently since the warehouse, never staying in one place too long while Zeke’s organization manages the fallout from Francesca’s death.
Honestly, anywhere Naomi is becomes home.
Her movements grow erratic, thighs trembling as she chases her release. I slip my hand between us, thumb finding her clit with practiced ease. The touch draws a sharp cry from her throat.
“That’s it,” I encourage, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves in time with our rhythm. “Let me see you come apart. Show me how good it feels.”
She does, back arching as pleasure crashes through her.
In one smooth motion, I flip our positions, pressing her into the mattress as I hook her leg over my shoulder. The new angle opens her completely to me, allowing deeper penetration as I slowly push back inside her still-quivering pussy.
“Micah,” she gasps, hands clutching at my shoulders as I withdraw almost completely before sliding home again. “Please, I need—”
“I know what you need.” I establish a measured pace, each thrust intentional and deep. “Going to give you everything. Make you come again on my cock while I tell you how perfect you are.”
I press her leg down, spreading her wider so I can watch my cock disappear inside her tight, wet pussy.
The sight is mesmerizing—her pink flesh stretching around my thickness, glistening with evidence of her arousal.
I withdraw slowly, savoring the way her body clings to me, before driving back in with a force that makes her gasp.
“Look at how perfectly you take me.” I establish a rhythm alternating between torturously slow withdrawals and hard, deep thrusts. “So eager for my cock. So greedy for more.”
Her only response is a broken moan as I bottom out inside her again. Her inner muscles flutter around me, still sensitive from her previous orgasm. I maintain the punishing pace, each thrust precise and relentless, hitting spots that make her writhe beneath me.
“Such a good girl.” My voice is heavy with desire as I watch her take every inch. “You were made for this. Made to take my cock so beautifully.”
Her hands clutch at my ass, nails digging in as I drive into her harder. The slight pain only fuels my desire, reminding me that she’s here, safe, mine.
“So close,” she cries, her body arching to meet each thrust. “Don’t stop. Need you so much.”
“Never stopping,” I promise, maintaining the demanding rhythm that has her gasping beneath me. “Going to fuck you until you can’t remember anything but how good this feels. How perfectly we fit together.”
Her pussy clenches around me at my words, drawing a groan from deep in my chest. I gaze where we’re connected as I continue to take her with measured intensity.
Two weeks of constant proximity, of claiming her body whenever and wherever desire strikes, has done nothing to diminish my hunger for her. If anything, each encounter increases my need.
I maintain the harsh, fast rhythm until she’s writhing beneath me, her nails scoring my ass as she pleads for more. I give in to basic instincts, hips snapping forward with increased force as I chase our mutual completion.
“Touch yourself,” I command, voice rough with approaching release. “Want to feel you come again while I’m inside you.”
She obeys, fingers finding her clit as I fuck her harder, deeper, driving us both toward the edge. Her second orgasm triggers mine—pleasure crashing through me in waves as I empty myself inside her with a final thrust.
I remain buried inside her, my cock still throbbing with aftershocks as I brace my weight on my forearms. Her body trembles beneath me. The urge to crush her against me, to somehow get even closer, wars with my need to protect her from being overwhelmed.
Her eyes flit open, meeting mine with such complete trust and devotion that my chest tightens painfully. I lower my head to capture her lips. The kiss starts gentle—a soft brush. But when she sighs into my mouth, parting her lips in welcome invitation, I can’t stop myself.
I deepen the kiss, tongue sweeping inside to taste her properly. She responds with eager submission, letting me control the pace as I explore every inch of her sweet mouth. My cock twitches inside her, already stirring with renewed interest as she makes those little whimpering sounds I love.
One hand slides into her hair, gripping the wild red curls to angle her head exactly how I want it. The kiss turns harder, more demanding, as I claim her mouth the same way I just claimed her pussy. She yields beautifully, melting beneath me as I devour her with increasing intensity.