22. 21 #2
Mabel could barely make a noise, save for the pleas leaving her lips as Lance took his time with her.
Her legs moved to wrap around his neck, but his hands gripped her thighs firmly, holding her in place and spreading her open.
“Be a good girl and sit still for me,” he said before pressing his tongue inside her.
She relished the pleasure that consumed her body and how much she missed this—missed him. It was as if he devoted himself to her pleasure, every inch of her warmth. Every pass of his tongue left her gasping and begging. Every tease at her entrance left her wanting more.
He paused over her clit, sucking gently, before pressing two long fingers inside her. Her cries only fueled his slow torment. And he savored every second of it. Every breath. Every tremor that ghosted through her.
She moaned, hips bucking, unable to stop herself.
He simply groaned and rocked his fingers just slightly faster. His tongue swapped between flicks and long drags, but he never hurried. Never rushed.
She could feel the ache building inside her. The one he loved to draw out over and over. It rose and flared with every pass of his tongue, every thrust of his fingers.
“Lance!” Mabel cried, her body tensing as her release crashed through her.
He curled his fingers inside her, pressing up and rubbing along the walls of her warmth. A shock jolted through her. “Good fucking girl,” he groaned. “Keep going, don’t stop.”
She cried out, waves of pleasure coursing through her. Her entire body was on fire. Every second felt like an eternity as he kept her suspended in a state of euphoria.
He stayed devotedly connected to her until the tremors in her body settled into something quieter. Even then, he didn’t pull away. He pulled his fingers from her warmth, just to replace them with his tongue, tasting, savoring.
He moaned against her, eyes finding hers. He examined every breath that left her lips, the perfect, pure blush in her cheeks, the way her eyes screamed for him—only him.
He pulled away, towering over her smaller frame. He looked over her flushed skin, how she blinked up at him, breathless, spent. How her body trembled with the aftershock of her release.
She stared up at him, want and longing and need all colliding. Everything between them, everything that kept them apart, no longer mattered. It was just them.
He pressed her legs up, hooking them over his shoulders as he bent over her. His lips found hers. He parted his lips, mouth hardly forming three words against hers. Silent. He couldn’t risk saying it aloud. He couldn’t risk breaking the already fragile ground they stood on.
“I’d paint a portrait of this,” he whispered, his fingers trailing lightly along her body, taking a handful of her breast, kneading the soft skin. He dipped down, pulling the nipple into his mouth, teeth scraping the sensitive bud.
Mabel shivered out a moan as he sucked, hips bucking, silently begging to be taken.
He caught her waist and guided her closer to the edge of the bed. She let out a soft laugh, but her breath hitched sharp as he pressed his hot length against her core, barely teasing against her entrance.
She looked up at him, eyes wide, searching.
He leaned in, the grip on her thigh firm. Her legs curled over his shoulders, hips tilted and ready for him. He pressed inside, just enough to make her gasp. “Tell me you want me.”
“Lance—please, I want you, only you,” she pleaded. “Fuck me, ruin me, gods, anything.”
His mouth consumed hers, and he shifted, pulling out before he rocked deep inside her, sheathing his full length in one rough thrust. Her body trembled, lips parted, as she adjusted to the size of him. His name fell from her mouth like a litany.
His forehead pressed to hers as he kept himself pressed inside her, memorizing the way it felt, memorizing the look in her eyes.
The closeness was dizzying, his breath against her cheek. Every inch between them seemed to hum with a need neither of them could name without breaking. They fit perfectly together.
Lance remained still, enjoying the way she clenched around him. He stared at her parted lips and pressed his thumb to the already swollen skin. She eagerly wrapped her lips around him, tongue tracing around the digit.
He watched, his length pulsing inside her before slowly, achingly pulling out of her warmth just to slip between her tight walls with a force that rocked the bed.
Her lips parted in a cry, but he pushed his thumb deeper into her mouth. “Shh,” he purred, gently rocking his hips against her, the tease burning. Each brush of movement overwhelmed her with pleasure. They moved in sync.
Mabel was a mess beneath him, face flushed, lips bitten, trembling under his touch. She felt her stomach tighten in need as the pleasure consumed her body.
“Gods, Mabel,” he moaned. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this.” He leaned over her to lick a stripe between her breasts. “So fucking beautiful.”
He pulled his thumb from her lips to press it against her clit. He relished the way her hips jumped to meet his touch. Each wave of pleasure only made her clench harder around his length.
“You’ve missed it too, baby. I can feel how badly you’ve missed this.” He kissed her again, tongue pressing past her lips to dive into her mouth.
She whimpered against him, hips rising to meet his, hands lifting to hold him closer, and nails scraping along his back.
He pulled back only slightly. His warm breath ghosted along her cheeks.
“You’re so fucking desperate. So desperate to have my cock inside you.
Claim you.” He snapped his hips hard against her.
“I’m just as desperate, baby.” His thrusts were relentless, each drive of his hips filling her completely.
She craved the burn of his cock and the hum of magic in his fingertips.
“Do you still dream of us?” he asked, thumb still working delicate arcs over her clit.
“Yes,” she cried, her whole body trembling beneath him. “Every night.”
“Good. I’m the only one allowed in your dreams, only one who can fuck you like this.” As if to prove it, he jerked his hips forward, rough, unrestrained, savoring every inch of her warmth.
“Lance,” she cried, coming undone all over again. Lance dipped down and pressed his lips hard against hers, still thrusting into her until he reached his own release. His hands wrapped around her hips in a bruising grip, magic pulsing through his palms that left Mabel a mess beneath him.
Her eyes widened when she felt his hot seed spill inside her. She couldn’t find it in her to care, rolling her hips against him.
“You’re mine.” His voice came out in a low growl.
“You’ll always be mine.” He buried his face against her neck, teeth scraping over skin.
He rocked into her, eyes trailing down to where their bodies connected.
Her thighs trembled between them and his grip tightened.
“Do you like being filled by me?” he purred out, tongue dragging along the shell of her ear.
“Yes—fuck,” she whimpered, hips bucking as he teased her once more.
He reluctantly dragged his length out, savoring the sight of his seed dripping from her. “Good,” he said with a devious smile before collapsing beside her.
They lay entwined, breathless and quiet, their gazes locked in a silent exchange that said more than words ever could.
Mabel’s hand rested lightly on his chest, attuned to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Lance reached up, gently tucking a strand of her sweat-dampened hair behind her ear, his touch lingering with reverence.
“I wish it had been you,” Mabel whispered, her voice trembling as unshed tears shimmered in her eyes. “You have no idea how much I wanted it to be you.”
Lance said nothing at first, just drew her into his arms, holding her like he could shield her from the weight of it all. He pressed a tender kiss to her temple, his voice barely audible. “I know,” he said gently. “I wanted that too … more than anything.”
They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms a little longer, clinging to the illusion that time might pause for them. That the world outside might wait.
But morning would come, and with it, the weight of reality. Mabel would be expected, duty pulling her away, as it always did. And they both knew what that meant.
Still, they had this night.
One last breath of borrowed time.
One final chance to say goodbye.