40. June
40
JUNE
“ J ust getting started?” Oh yeah. He hasn’t come yet. Where is my head? I can’t think clearly. When he scoots closer to me, the couch sinks in his direction, and I feel why I can’t think clearly. The plug. It’s still in place.
Anderson nuzzles against the shell of my ear. He growls in my ear, “I have plans for that body of yours. Can you walk?”
A rush of heat flushes through me, residuals from what we just did and from what his primordial growl promises. But I’m still weak from his mouth all over me. “I … I don’t think I can.”
“Well, then.” He stands up, then bends, scooping beneath me to carry me. Every bouncing step makes the plug shift inside of me, and it stirs up all kinds of feelings. Trepidation, lust, the need to see how far I can push myself tonight.
But I’m still wrung out from all those orgasms, and I laugh. “Anderson, watch your step!”
“Oh?” His tone is so cocky like he knows I’ll do whatever he wants. “I think you like it. The feel of the toy up your ass. Especially when I do this.” He bounces the next step extra hard, forcing a shudder through me. “Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re like this.”
“Like what?” I pant.
“Wound up. Ready for whatever I want.”
His words turn me on so hard, but I’m drained, and I don’t have anything left to give him. So, I try to change the topic. “Why are you carrying me to bed?”
“I told you, baby. I have plans.” He kicks the door closed behind him once we’re inside, then carefully lays me on the bed. He makes sure the pillows are under me right, fussing like a nurse for a moment. Anderson’s gaze isn’t on me—it’s on the bed and the pillows.
I don’t want to disappoint him, but I have to be honest. “Baby, I’m wiped out from that. I don’t have the energy for more.”
He leans down, his lips a fraction of an inch from mine, as he stares into my eyes. “All you have to do is lay there and let me do all the work.”
What kind of woman would I be if I turned that offer down from a ridiculously sexy man? “Um, okay.”
He has me face up on the bed, so I get to watch him consider where to begin on me. He’s methodical, studying my body almost clinically. “Where to begin … ”
I tease, “And here I thought you had a plan.”
“Mouthy girls get spankings.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” I say it as a joke, but seeing the look in his eyes, maybe I shouldn’t have.
Or maybe I should have said that months ago.
Another growl lodges in his chest. “You don’t know what you’ve started.”
“Show me.” Why am I talking trash like I can take it? But that urge to push myself is still inside me, no matter how tired I am.
Anderson props me up and steals my shirt, letting the material tickle my arms as he pulls it away. Then he pinches the waistband on my leggings and peels them from my body with such slowness that I’m sure he’s doing it to make me crazier, as though I need the help. I’m exposed head to toe for him, and his appreciative gaze leaves heat in its wake.
Then it’s his turn. With his expression locked on me, he slowly removes what’s left of his clothes—no more lounge pants. His cock is hard and proud, and the head shines with precum. He must have loved what we did on the couch. He’s not normally like that.
Anderson picks up my right ankle and kisses the top of my foot before trailing kisses up my inner calf and thigh. Before he gets anywhere good, he pulls the same move on the other leg but slower. Like he’s telling me, this is only the beginning.
He peppers my upper thighs with more kisses before blazing a path with his lips over my stomach and my ribs, avoiding my breasts and up my sternum. He branches out over my collarbones and down my arms, paying special attention to my fingertips, one at a time. I cannot figure him out tonight. He’s so unlike himself. But I also kind of like it.
When he licks up my throat, I can’t help but exhale a deep sigh. As much as he’s keeping me on some unknown edge, this has also been the world’s most intimate massage, and each sensation is a new bit of bliss. And then he’s face to face with me. “I love you, June.”
“I love you, too, baby.”
He smiles sweetly. “I need you to know that.”
“Of course I do. What’s on your mind?”
“This.” Abruptly, he gets off of me and flips me over onto my stomach. He yanks my hips up so I’m face down and ass up, and he spreads me open before he presses on the jeweled end of the plug. I hiss out a breath—it’s so intense, and I’m a little sore. He’d lulled me into a false sense of sweetness, and now, he’s ripped that away. He’s not the gentle lover he was a moment ago.
This is someone else.
I’m not sure what he’s up to until he brushes over my pussy with the broad head of his cock. It feels so intense and delicious. But then he pulls back, and I can’t feel him anymore. Oh, fuck, is he ? —
Anderson grabs my hips and slams all the way into me, making me squeal into the pillows. It’s so fucking intense! Painful, yes, but the pleasure is almost too much as he bears down on me. But then he starts to fuck me, and I can’t hardly stand it. Our bodies smack together, and each time, a wave of pleasure cascades through my pelvis. I’m already on the edge from what we’d done before, and with the plug still in me, I’m losing control.
It's. So. Tight.
It’s never felt like this before. He’s big compared to most guys, and some nights, he’s almost too big. But now? Now, it’s like being fucked by a soda can because the plug has tightened me up. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
And it is fucking. No one could mistake this for making love.
I’m just so full. Every spot is tended, from my G-spot to whatever the hell else is in there, and when he reaches around for my clit, I grip the sheets and lose it. I screech, “Fuck!” as the orgasm begins.
He buries himself as deep as he can go, riding the squeeze of my body on him. “You feel so fucking good when you come, baby!”
I can’t even respond—I’m lost inside of myself, inside this shimmering, inescapable pleasure he gave me. When it finally starts to subside, he rears back and wiggles the plug, sending me tumbling into another orgasm. Each muscle has squeezed tight. I can’t breathe, but who the hell cares? I have no words, and I must scream.
When I can finally inhale again, it sounds like a reverse scream when my lungs fill up. He hammers into me even more, and every thrust collides against the plug, making one orgasm into multiple. I can’t even count them—they’re like echoes in a cave. I don’t think you can turn inside out from climaxing too much, but he’s forcing me to try.
As one orgasm strikes another, I realize things are going black in my vision. I have to make myself breathe, and it’s a struggle. I turn my head for air and try to tap out, slapping the bed so he’ll see. He taunts me, “Need a break?”
I whisper, “Yeah!”
But he grabs that hand and pulls it into the small of my back. “You can take it.” He pops himself against me harder, deeper, faster until his cock swells inside me. Just as I’m ready to pull away from him—not that I really could—his body goes rigid behind me. He jerks forward, as deep as he can go, as he roars out his orgasm, pouring himself into my body. All that heat melts me inside to soothe my ache.
Anderson collapses onto my back, half kissing, half huffing breaths against my sweaty skin. But when he lost himself on top of me, he pressed the plug in even more.
I whimper, “Plug!”
Quickly—well, as quick as he could after all of that—he rolls off of me. “Sorry.”
“S’kay,” I gasp, also trying to catch my breath.
After a minute of panting in the relative dark, he asks, “You okay?”
I need a minute to make actual words. “Think so.”
He laces his fingers with mine. “You are a goddess.”
I laugh, which weirdly moves the plug. “Your goddess wants to clean up.”
“Not yet.” He rubs my ass for a moment first, then smacks me there. “Okay. Now you can go.”