Production Start #2
I was sweating under the weight of him, wearing both him and all his clothes.
But kissed I was, and trying to keep up with him was mesmerising.
I wanted to try to kiss him back, but everything I tried, he would just overwhelm me.
So I let him. Let him just take from me, exactly what he wanted.
My mouth. My little moans, because I was making them.
Couldn’t help it, not when his hand slid up my chest, and gently…
and I meant that. Gently. Squeezed my nipple.
The reaction against his groin was immediate, and I know he felt it. He jolted, just a small one, but his mouth stopped, my bottom lip still pinched between his.
“I want to make you come,” he hissed out, before letting the tip of his tongue trail over my top lip.
“You’ll do that if you don’t stop,” I hissed back, surprised I was actually…still in the game.
The game. I smiled into his mouth.
I think he smiled back.
“Can I?” he said, his palm now flat over my chest. Looking at me. Like he needed my permission to do anything he wanted. For the record, I would have let him do anything to me. Flip me over and penetrate me dry. I would have let him. Taken it and treasured him breaking me apart.
I would have let him put his dick in my mouth. Pushed me to the limits as I drooled and cried and gagged. I would have let him. I would have been grateful.
I knew full well how fucked up that sounded, even thinking it to myself in my head.
“You can,” I replied, as my head flew back. The way he pinched my nipple. A little harder. Something that shot right through my body, a slash of arousal straight from the source to my cock.
Hard. Pulsating.
He moved again, adjusting his position so his groin…was against mine.
“Take what you need,” I begged.
“But what do you need?” he whispered in my ear. Another kiss on my neck. His mouth. That warm tongue trailing over my collarbone.
He rose up to get better access, his clothes still on.
I hated that they were, but at the same time? It felt unreal. Safe.
Like we could stop this at any time and both of us lie here like nothing had happened.
Me in a T-shirt and briefs. Him in his jeans and a hoodie.
My hand still between us as I let my fingers creep under his waistline.
Twisted my arm around so I had that line of hair in the palm of my hand. Further down as my head went fuzzy.
Who was I kidding? This was not safe. This was dangerous and unreal and terrifying and…
My hips were bucking into him, meeting his thrusts. My hand down his jeans.
And a little further.
Oh God. Please.
“Come for me,” he breathed.
Like I knew how to do that. Like I was anywhere close. Like this wasn’t just a messed-up daydream like the ones that played out in my head at night.
I could feel his cock, sliding into my grip. Hard. Warm. Right there as he let a sound slip from his throat. Deep. Desperate.
Mine. That sound? It was all mine. Unexpected. Frighteningly real as I moved my fingers around him. Up. Down. And up again as his mouth crashed into mine.
He came. Right there, filling the palm of my hand with everything that he was. Wet. Warm. Real.
Very fucking real.
It must have been the shock, I thought, as my head once again flew back, allowing his mouth to latch on to my neck. Hard. Wet. Heady.
My own release.
My hand still full of him. My briefs catching a load.
He hadn’t even touched me. Not properly. Not really.
And I came. Another squirt that made my body twist to the side, the warmth pulsing through me like a fire I couldn’t contain.
Hot and cold.
Him and me.
I hadn’t realised how close I’d been. How wound up he’d made me. What he’d made me do.
“Georgie.” Against my skin.
I felt exhausted. Like I’d been on fire and was still burning out. Everything…too much.
“Uhhh,” was all I could muster as he tried to wrap himself harder around me.
My hand was dead. My fingers sticky, coated in him. I never wanted to wash my hand again. I wanted to keep him there. A memento of the time he…allowed himself this.
To be mine.
Just for a second. Or two.
“You’re my baby,” he said. I could feel his mouth widening into a smile.
“Arsehole,” I huffed out.
“No.” He was still smiling. I could hear it. His hand moving down and then…there it was. His hand cupping my briefs. My very wet briefs.
“Good,” he whispered, gently kissing my cheek. Then he moved his hand away. Shuffled on the bed. Tucked me up like a baby, with the covers up under my chin. Shuffled again until his body was on its side, against my hip. Me on my back. Him leaning over me.
One arm holding him up, the other carefully removing my glasses. Placing them on the side.
“Go to sleep.”
Him. Always him.
“We…” I started, but he silenced me with a kiss. On my mouth. I’d wanted to get some tissues. Perhaps clean us up. Now suddenly it didn’t seem important.
I wanted to see him, but without my glasses, he was just dark shadows. I felt him, though. The effect of him everywhere on my skin.
“Please don’t make me talk,” he pleaded, in a voice that softened everything.
He knew exactly what he was doing. And I hated that I let him.