7. All the Deadly Sins
all the deadly sins
Mirren
It’s just sex. It’s a physical release, a physiological act. It’s the same as running or rowing or swimming.
All thoughts of exercise leave me as my hair is swept off my shoulder and Strider’s mouth comes to my neck.
He wraps one arm around my waist, his hand splays from panties to my sternum, and he pulls my back into his chest. His lips and tongue trail from below my ear toward my shoulder, brushing aside the fabric that hangs there.
“You’re fucking stunning, Mirren. Can you feel how much I want you?”
I’m tempted to slide a hand between us, even at this angle, in answer, but instead, I loop my hand behind me and around his neck, tugging him back to me. The move thrusts my breasts out, and my already-hard nipples lift.
“You’re trying to kill me, right? I’m tempted. Trust me. I’m tempted in every way.” His hand at my belly lifts to cup my breast, pinching my nipple and rolling it between his fingers.
The keening sound that comes from me is surprising. I’m mostly silent in the throes. It’s the hazard of rooming with so many people for so long. The silence of a one-woman operation never stopped me from getting there.
“You like that?” He twists where his fingers pinch before sliding a hand down my belly, stretching his pinky toward my panties.
“Yes.” I arch, trying to find his mouth while also grinding into his cock. My height isn’t helping.
His pinky slides back and forth under the lace and is eventually met one by one with the rest. But it’s when his middle finger slides down that he freezes. “You’re bare?” he growls near my ear.
“Look and see,” I dare.
He spins me around, capturing my mouth, and backing me up until my knees hit the bed. Before I can topple, his hands whip my shirt over my head and drop it behind me.
His eyes take me in. They’re not lazy. His gaze isn’t slow. It’s devouring. His pupils are dilated, his hands roam the air as if he can compel my body to move by sheer will, and he licks his lips.
“You are fucking perfect.” The words rasp from his lips as if pulled over gravel. “Now, baby, I’d like to taste you—no, feast on you—until you come, screaming my name.”
He gives me a playful shove, and I topple backward, dragging him with me. When he cages me between his elbows, looking down on me, his face goes serious. His lips hover over mine but deny me when I stretch for him.
Instead, he kisses my chin, his lips and tongue trace my neck to my collar bone and down between my breasts. One chaste kiss is placed at my heart before he slides down my body, his hands following where his mouth forged the path.
His warm mouth hits my center over my panties, the lace adding friction I desperately need. He gazes at me from the juncture of my thighs, and heat floods my core.
“Up.” It’s a command this time, and I obey, lifting my hips, pressing my center close to his face. If he’s going to demand, two can play at that game.
Rough fingers drag the lace too fucking slowly over my hipbones, down my thighs, and past my knees. But instead of them being tossed aside as I expect, he keeps them at my feet and ducks under, using them to hook my ankles around his neck.
With a wicked grin, he takes a long, slow deliberate lick from my entrance to my clit, and wastes no time teasing me.
He flicks.
He hums.
He sucks.
Fuck. “Oh. My. God.” I melt and incinerate at the same time. Every nerve ending stands at attention, waiting for more. “I— More.” The word is dragged from me like it was pulled from my toes.
The rumble of his chuckle vibrates through me as his breath blows on my center—hot and cold, push and pull, teasing and sating.
“Strider.” His name is a prayer on my lips. Yet he’s the one on his knees… and I’m the altar where he worships.
“Fuck, baby. Say my name like that again.”
Two fingers enter me as he lifts with— I don’t know. Does he have four arms? All I know is he’s everywhere. Lifting me to his mouth, sucking deep on my clit, teasing that spot deep inside me.
Writhing, I press my center closer to him, fighting for more, all the while not knowing what I can handle, if I can handle anything more. My fingers spear his hair and hold him to me.
“I’m close, Strider. I’m so close.”
I swear a smile breaks across his face, but I’m already floating, reeling, feeling. Every nerve is sensation. My belly coils. My breathing goes ragged, and he sucks like he wants nothing more than to pull me into him.
The bow snaps, the wires of my orgasm fraying, and I trip into bliss.
Falling.
Tumbling.
Exploding.
Strider
The sound of her release is my undoing. Her gasps are overcome by a moan that damn near has me coming in my pants.
Opening my eyes, I watch her face as ecstasy overcomes her, never stopping my work.
Am I distracted? Fuck yes. It’s the most incredible sight I’ve ever beheld.
I flick my tongue, pressing deeply into her clit, and her fist in my hair tightens.
I never want this to end. I could feast on her every meal of my life. Her honey and musk taste, her legs boxing my ears, holding me in place, the tug at my scalp that verges on painful.
And the show? It’s second to none.
Pink crawls across her face, her neck, her tits, even creeping toward her belly. Her head thrown back exposing her throat, her free hand grabbing the air for unknown relief.
Sliding my fingers from her, I replace them with my tongue, fucking her, lapping her release greedily.
“One more, Mirren. Need to watch you come again.” I return to her clit just as her thighs release my head and her hand brushes through my hair, but not in a tug.
“I—” She throws a hand over her face, hiding herself from me.
“What?”
“I can’t do multiples. I’ve never been able—”
I cut off that thought. I do not want to know what or who came before. I’ll lose my dinner even thinking about it.
She doesn’t know the patience I have or the fight I have in me. She can’t know that my new sole mission in life is that she comes until she’s rung out and her legs can’t hold her up. She’ll learn quickly that I plan to ruin her forever until I’m the only man who can satisfy her.
Lifting a hand, I roll a nipple with my thumb and forefinger. All the while, I dive back into her pussy, feasting like she’s my last meal. I’m a glutton for Mirren Jones. Hell, I’d probably commit all the deadly sins for this woman.
But all I can think is she needs a second, then a third, and I’m the man to give them to her. The only man. And that starts now.
“Just feel, okay?”
“I c—”
“Just feel.” My words are a growl. The shiver that runs through her vibrates into my mouth.
I flirt with her pussy, teasing and building. I lick and nibble. I use my tongue on her entrance. I hum and blow. But her clit is my nirvana, and I spend my energy coaxing, toying, leading, playing.
When her hips rise to meet me, I smile and press her pelvis down with a hand. “Nu-uh. I’m in control.” I suck hard, flicking, and never letting up.
Her gasping breaths tell me she’s close. She finally groans and stills, but not in bliss. In defeat.
So I do what I must… set my teeth to her clit and nip.
She screams and bucks, and I smile and suck her into a long, deep second orgasm that is the best moment of my year, maybe my life.
I lave and hum and extend it as much as I can, reaching back to unhook her panties from one ankle so I can crawl up her body, dragging the denim of my jeans over that tender spot and watching her jolt and her eyes fly open.
They’re soft, and her smile is small. I kiss her heart once more before I find myself caging her in, elbows beside her.
“Want to go for three?”