Laya
LAYA
Owen scrambles to open his belt buckle, and with his fingers in his mouth and his eyes closed in pleasure, my pussy throbs. Not only was that orgasm mind-blowing, but it was filthy and all-consuming.
Owen knows no bounds, and I’m here for it.
He tugs down his jeans and boxers, and his cock springs out, hitting his abs, and I want nothing more than to drop to my knees and please him. Blood coats his upper lip, and I have an insane urge to lick it clean, but I remain frozen, too consumed with lust to do anything. He withdraws his fingers, and his gaze latches onto my pussy. “Fuck. I need to fuck this pussy so bad right now, .” The tendons in his neck are tight, and when he drags his T-shirt over his head, my mouth salivates at the sight.
How can his body have gotten any bigger? The artwork on him calls to my pussy like a beacon, and it drips in need. I want to tell him to fuck me as hard as he can, but I’m paralyzed, my throat clogged with awe and post-orgasmic shock. Then he wraps his thick, tattooed fingers around his cock, and my nipples begin to leak, but I don’t have it in me to be embarrassed.
His eyes flick up to my face as if hearing my thoughts. “Open your shirt, .” He fists his cock faster, and I swear I feel the pre-cum drip onto my pussy. “Fuck, baby, you’re bleeding on the sheets, just like the first time I took you.”
My fingers pause on the buttons, and I dart my eyes up to face him. “I-I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry, baby girl. I like the thought of your mark. I like the thought of owning your blood.”
Oh god.
The mattress moves under his thrusts, and when I open the shirt and slip it off my shoulders, he growls, sending a wave of exhilaration through me.
“Are your tits leaking, baby girl?”
“Yes.” I arch my back, thrusting my pussy toward him.
“Fuck, yes. Your nipples are begging to be sucked, aren’t they?”
His fist moves faster and faster.
“Yes. Oh god, Owen.”
“Begging for my tongue to taste your milk.” He grunts. “For you to feed me.”
Every inch of his perfect muscles is coiled tight as he pumps his cock with vigor.
“Paint your tits for me, . Paint your tits in your bloody cum.”
His cock leaks onto my pussy, coating it in his pre-cum, and my fingers trail down, itching to touch him, but I do as he commands and gather my wetness. Then I move toward my nipple, painting it with my bloody cum and mixing it with my milk.
“That’s it, baby girl, paint those tits.” His chest rises rapidly as I tweak my nipple, encouraging the milk to bead. “Fuck. Fuck, , I’m gonna…” He explodes and clenches his jaw shut as rope upon rope of warm cum coat my pussy. “Fuckkkk,” he breathes out, his chest heaving as he stares down at the mess we created. “I seriously want to eat your pussy right now.” When he chuckles, my eyes widen. Then he grabs onto my thigh as if to steady himself before he lifts his gaze toward mine. “Gonna plug you.” He tilts his head toward the tampon on the bed, and I nod along while he picks up the box to examine it. His eyes flick over the box as if reading the instructions, and I bite into my lip and watch the way confusion creeps over his face.
“It’s simple.” I move to take the box from him, but he bats my hand away.
“I got it.”
He rips into the packaging, pulls out the tampon, pushes my legs up to angle me better, then drags the tampon through his cum. “When I come inside you tomorrow, I’m plugging you. You’re not wasting any of it.”
My mind whirls with what he said. “Tomorrow?”
He snaps his gaze up toward me, and his eyes hold me captive. “We’re getting married tomorrow, .” His words leave no room for argument, then he darts his eyes back down, unwilling to discussing it further.
When I feel the tampon being pushed inside me, I can’t help but wish it was him, but something tells me tomorrow will have been worth the wait, no matter how unsure I am about it.