Chapter 18 Robin #2
All my senses have been overridden by him.
He’s everywhere, my taste, touch, scent; every one of my senses submits to him, and I let him tilt my face so he can devour more of me.
I feel like I’m going to ignite into flames just being this close, my nipples brushing against his solid, lean chest, and a moan escapes my lips into his mouth.
“Fuck, Roo.” Wren groans, ending our kiss, but he doesn't move. He presses his forehead against mine and our lips are still brushing. His eyes are so vibrantly green it's like he’s seeing straight into my soul. No one has ever looked at me the way he does and there is no room for me to ever disbelieve how much he wants me. It’s not just on a physical level, the way he looks at me it’s like he’ll cease to exist if he ever looks away.
I’ve caught him watching me every day and he never hides the fact he’s enamoured, like he blinks he'll miss an integral detail that unlocks myself open for him. When we started to build the suspects list, he traced over my cursive writing and told me it was so pretty, the way I looped them together and flicked out some letters—like he’d never seen handwritten words before.
His slightly calloused fingertips brush along my jaw, his thumb continuing to stroke there as he cups my cheek. I feel so small in his large, capable hands. “You need to tell me what you want, pretty girl.”
“I want you to make me feel good.” I don't hesitate to answer, shocked at how steady my voice is.
Our lips find each other again and Wren kisses me slowly, but before I can open up for him, he bites into my lower lip and pulls another moan out from me.
He wastes no time moving us into the bedroom and I can't find it in me to care that I’m dripping all over the carpet.
I smell like a sugary flower, my skin sparkling from the bath bomb residue we didn't rinse off.
My back meets the cool sheets and not even a moment later I’m pressed satisfyingly down as Wren lays on top of me.
He isn't putting his full weight on me, in fact he’s holding himself up by his forearm and I feel the other snake up my back as he presses me closer to him as we continue to kiss.
Our tongues chase one another. It’s frantic, hot, and definitely the filthiest kiss I’ve ever had.
Like mine, his entire body is now soaked, his bottoms too but I feel his rock-hard length press into my stomach.
I lose my goddamn mind.
I’m unable to string together a solid thought; the only thing I can focus on is how in the world can I get us out of this house so he can destroy me, because there's no doubt what’s hidden in his shorts will obliterate my vagina.
He thrusts a little against me as we continue to kiss and it leaves nothing to the imagination.
Wren Hastings has a huge dick and when he puts it in me, my tiny body is going to be fucked to death.
Deceased.
Gone.
Buh-bye.
Died doing something I loved.
I think he’s aware of my body tensing, because he says in a sultry tone against my ear, “We’re not going to have sex, Baby. What I am going to do, is devour your pussy like you’re my last fucking meal. You’re then going to ride my fingers until I get at least two more orgasms out of you.”
Two more? Like he plans on there being more before we even get to that part?
Smirking, he kisses me once leisurely on the lips before he descends down my body, kissing, licking my pebbled nipples and nibbling.
He bites and sucks in places which I bet will leave marks, but I’m practically panting as he starts to stroke up and down one of my thighs with a gentle, teasing touch.
If he doesn't give me more, I’m not above begging.
Sliding his body further down the bed, he positions himself between my thighs so all I can see is his dark curls as he nibbles my hip bone and soothingly laps his tongue over the spot.
The sharp pinch of pain is immediately followed up with pleasure, and it swells in my lower belly.
I can feel the slick wetness between my legs.
His large hands grip my thighs and open them wide, his eyes so dark with lust that I think I stop breathing at the animalistic way they shine, looking down at how soaked and bare I am.
He fucking whimpers. “You’re so beautiful.” He praises me, before lunging down and devouring me whole. He licks straight up my centre and groans, before his tongue makes deliciously slow circles on my clit.
“Oh fuck!” I scream, back arching off the bed as goosebumps erupt over every inch of my skin.
His palm runs up the middle of my stomach and presses me back down, the contrast of his dark tattoos against my empty skin may be my new favourite sight.
Wild curls have fallen into his eyes, but he looks up at me with a wicked glint in them that demands I stay still.
All I can do is let out breathy moans as my body withers, my skin burning up and my thighs start to shake as I feel my first orgasm building at a fast pace, ready for the mind-shattering crescendo.
I’ve never felt myself get this worked up so quickly before.
In the past, guys have either spent so little time pleasuring me or blindly poked around with their tongue and decided to skip straight to sex.
Most times, even when by myself, I needed harder stimulation to get off, so how in the world am I ready to combust?
The pressure continues to build as he runs a long finger up me, teasing my entrance with firm swirls of his tongue, before I feel two fingers push deep inside me.
Gasping at the sudden intrusion, the burning desire of my orgasm is tilting on the edge.
All it takes is for him to curl both fingers up inside me as he sucks hard on my clit and I fall, my body shaking as I shatter on his face.
My hands find their way into his hair as my head tips back on the bed and I moan, probably being too loud in a hotel full of my friends, but I couldn't care about anything right now.
The more I let go into my release, the more Wren pumps his fingers into me and licks every drop from my pussy.
I ache at how good the pleasure feels, shivering at his touch as my body becomes so sensitive.
It feels like my orgasm goes on forever, my panting breaths shallow and there's a peaceful murmur in my mind that is bliss.
His dick might have not killed me, but I think he just made my consciousness leave my body because nothing will compare to this. No one will compare.
“That's my perfect fucking girl.” Wren breathes, his chest heaving like he can't breathe without me. “You taste divine.”
He places kisses up my thighs which would fall limp if he wasn't holding them.
In between each soft kiss, he whispers praises, sweet words that send a jolt of electricity through my body and to my brain.
Fuck, I really like that. I let out a satisfied sigh and that devilish smirk returns.
“Does my girl like it when I praise her? Hm—tell me Baby, does someone have a little praise kink?”
The same noise escapes me, and my brain summersaults. The horny little devil inside me bangs on her cage screaming, YES. YES, YES, FUCKING YES! WORSHIP MY BODY AND TELL ME I’M PRETTY.
I gulp down air and press both hands to my face, realising I’d been holding onto his hair for dear life.
Wren crawls up my body with a knowing expression, stopping to kiss my chest and then collarbone so softly.
“You looked so beautiful coming all over my face.” He says with male pride and I scoff, loving his filthy mouth but also how gentle he’s being with me.
I don’t have time to respond before he grabs my waist and pulls me up with him, twisting his body till he’s sitting with his back against the headboard.
I’m straddling his lap, slightly dazed from the new position.
He’s still wearing his shorts and if humanly possible, his erection is even harder.
It strains against his waistband, probably painful and I should offer to help with that.
I adjust my position so it rests against my middle, my body already aching for his touch again. Both of his hands brush back my wet hair that has already started to curl, his eyes exploring my body and a soft smile laces his lips.
“Like what you see?” I laugh, placing my hands on his tattooed shoulders and I trace the snake's body that trails along there. It’s intricate, well done, and I bet it hurts like a bitch.
The reason I never got a tattoo—well, apart from the best friends for life pact tattoo I let Phin hand-poke himself.
He has a matching one in the same place and said that if he gives it to anyone else, I’ll know they're someone I can trust unconditionally.
Instinctually I look down at his wrist and unsurprisingly see a black hand-poked heart, in exactly the same place as my own.
Wren hums in approval and places a kiss on my shoulder, trailing his lips up my neck and then to my own lips.
I can taste myself on him, and I assumed I wouldn't like it, but I instantly feel ravaging desire pools between my legs again already. I’m probably making a mess in his lap, but as we kiss he slowly moves his hips and rubs his hard dick against my centre.
He watches my eyes closely as he runs his other hand down my side, over the rise of my hip and down the curve of my bum.
He doesn't stop, splaying his hand under me and pressing his long fingers up against my soaked, needy centre. I almost buck, my head tilting back as my eyes close at the feel of him against my sensitive pussy and we both moan. I need him so badly again already; I’m repeating my boundaries in my mind to attempt any resemblance of grounding myself.