38. Kiernan
38
Kiernan
I cry out but he kisses me, shutting me up.
I’m too full, stretched open and aching, and I want to punch him a little bit. I’d thought he was going to be sweet. I’d thought when he pressed his forehead to mine he was going to say take your time, baby. But no. He’d clearly used his sweet quota for the day already. He’d lost his patience and forced his way into me, and now I’m fighting the orgasm that’s building without either of us even moving purely out of spite.
He’s so fucking deep I can barely stand it, his grip biting into my skin, his eyes squeezed shut like he’s trying to concentrate.
I shift my weight, sitting back onto my heels a little more, my drenched pussy gliding up his shaft and then sliding back down, and he groans so loudly I almost come.
I do it again, sliding backward and forward, his cock pushing and pulling at my insides as he raises his hips impatiently.
I grab the back of his hair and yank his head back, exposing his throat and scraping my teeth against his skin.
“Fuck you, James,” I say, and then I bite him.
He barks out a yell but doesn’t stop me as I trace the teeth marks with my tongue at the same time as I start to move up and down, involuntary moans warbling their way out of my throat at the sight of his head held back.
I know he could easily pick me up and flip me over. I know he could wrench my wrist away from his head in a heartbeat. So, the fact that he’s letting me take charge, that he’s letting me have him like this, is somehow even hotter. It feels like his apology for losing his cool. I grip his hair tighter and yank his head even farther back, and his eyes darken as he guides my hips with his hands, urging me to speed up.
I swat his hands away and to my surprise he complies. I swivel my hips, getting used to the stretching and starting to relax into it, starting to enjoy it a little even though it stings.
His hands drift to my hips again, clearly used to being in charge and feeling impatient. Instead of swatting him away, I take my free hand and wrap it around his throat— hard— squeezing just like he did, my nails digging into his skin.
“No,” I say.
His face goes black with anger, but I can see it—the edge of something desperate in his eyes. I squeeze a little harder. His hips push upwards, trying to get more friction, but I keep squeezing, leaning into it, his cheeks starting to go pink.
Let me be in charge. Let me REALLY be in charge . . .
I feel it, the minute he surrenders, his hips settling and his hands dropping to his sides, palms down on the cushions.
I loosen my grip and expect him to take advantage, to grab me and flip me over and fuck me sideways, but he stays still, quiet, patient, waiting for me to do my thing.
I lean forward and kiss him sweetly, shocked to shit that he’s giving me this gift. Take advantage now, Kiernan, you know it won’t last.
I close my eyes and tip my head back, riding him at my own pace, swiveling my hips and testing all the angles of our bodies until I find the ones that work best for me.
As I start to speed up, I open my eyes again and he’s staring at me with the kind of burning intensity that could melt stone.
“This is for me,” I say, continuing to speed up, this angle hitting something inside of me that is making my entire body quiver. I sound breathless, desperate, pistoning myself onto him as hard and fast as I can. Fuck, fuck, fuck . . .
“This one is all mine,” I groan. “Do you understand?”
He nods, his mouth slack as I chase my high, still staring at me like he could set me on fire.
“Say it!” I moan.
He turns to face me again, madder than I’ve EVER seen him.
“I understand,” he spits out.
And I come.
My entire body locks up, slamming down on him like gravity has doubled, my pussy clenching so hard and so fast and so frantically around him and I feel like I’m going to lift myself off his dick with just my muscles.
My brain turns to mush, and I lose track of my body, something ringing in my ears, as I feel a rush of wetness flooding between us.
I fall forward, spent, and can feel myself being moved. Am I falling? But then I feel the cool leather of the cushions on my back and realize he’s shifted us around so he’s on top, my body limp and tongue thick and dead in my mouth.
He lowers himself onto me and seals our mouths together, his kiss passionate, intense, hot. And then he starts to fuck me, hard quick thrusts that have my stretched, bruised pussy aching all over again.
I know what he wants. I can feel it, feel what he’s trying to do. He wants me to come again. He wants me to die of orgasms.
“I can’t,” I moan. “I cant.”
He bites my breast, right above the nipple, sucking so hard I know he’ll leave a huge hickey like a fucking brand.
“You can,” he says, fucking me harder, harder, harder . . . driving me closer and closer to another release.
I feel like I’m going to break.
I feel like I’m going to split apart.
I feel like I’m going to scream.
We’re both sweating, panting, shaking . . .
“I can’t,” I cry.
He pulls out and rears up over me, wrapping his hand around his cock and staring down at me with rage.
“You WILL,” he says, and just as he pumps his shaft with his fist his other hand drives into my pussy, four fingers stuffed into my cunt and taking me completely by surprise.
I fucking detonate as he blows his load, jets of cum spurting out of his cock and all over my chest, my vision swimming at the sight of his fit body wracked with wave after wave of his orgasm.
He lets go of his cock and collapses forward onto his side beside me, his chest and hips against me, his hand slowly pulling out of me.
We’re both soaked, and panting, and covered in come, and I feel like I am supposed to feel dirty about it, but I don’t. I feel . . . euphoric.
He brings his pussy-drenched hand up to my chest, tracing one nipple and then the other, soaking them in me, before he slides his fingers into the jets of his own come all over my tits, rubbing it into my skin like it’s suntan lotion. Like he wants every inch of me fucking covered in him.
He brings his fist up to my mouth and doesn’t have to say a word—I open my mouth and he stuffs his fingers in as far as he can, my eyes closing as I clamp my mouth shut and suck the taste of both of us off of his fingers.
“I told you you could,” he says, his voice low, guttural, as he pulls his hand out and places his palm on my low belly.
I turn to face him, body heavy, and nod.
“I’m sorry, daddy,” I whisper. “I’ll do better.”
He stares at me, face unreadable, just looking at me in silence for well over a minute.
“Kiernan?”
“Yeah . . .” I sigh, fading fast.
“I love you.”