Chapter Six #3
She used her hand to stroke me again, slow and deliberate, while her mouth described the wettest, tightest spiral down my shaft.
Her mouth was merciless, her hands mapping every contour of my cock as if she wanted to keep it as a trophy.
I felt my discipline wavering, the last bracing of my thighs against the mattress failing as she worked her tongue along the ridges, flicking just under the crown in a motion so precise I believed she was analyzing me at the atomic level.
I tried to warn her—an honest, desperate, “Sadie”—but in the next instant, she hollowed her cheeks and the suction clamped around my head, drawing a groan out of me so raw I thought my throat might collapse.
She didn’t pause, ramping the pressure and tempo in a relentless series of wet, hungry cycles, pushing me closer to the edge than any simulation, any fantasy.
I grabbed her by the shoulders, intending to warn or protest—but my grip only spurred her on, and she wriggled deeper, taking me to the hilt until I was pressed so hard to the back of her throat, I could feel the heat of her pulse against the tip.
The pleasure was armor-piercing, relentless; I had no chance to resist. I was seconds from erupting in her mouth, but that wasn’t how I wanted this to end.
With a growl, I pulled back from that dangerous heat.
My hands found her waist, lifting her as if she weighed nothing.
In one fluid motion, I spun her away from my throbbing cock, flipping her onto all fours and dragging her hips back against me with one arm locked around her waist. She smiled, feral and pleased, and braced herself on her forearms, opening for me with a slow, taunting roll of her hips.
I gripped her, hands spreading around the flex of her ass, and pressed the head of my cock to the slick, impatient heat of her.
The sight was incredible. Even from this vantage, I was again spellbound by the human anatomy, the folds and clefts so unlike the tidy geometry of Bozad mates.
Every contour of her sex seemed engineered for sensation—corrugated, multidimensional, a puzzle box of skin and pulse and velvet.
Last time, I’d found her anatomy overwhelmingly complex with its intricate layers.
This time, I wanted to study, to taste and test her until I’d mapped every small structure by tongue and hand.
I drew back, my cock dragging wetly against her, then leaned in and parted the folds with a gentle press of my thumbs.
The skin was darker here, glistening; moisture beaded in the valleys, a salinity I could smell from inches away.
The inner folds were so delicate, they pulsed with every breath, quivering as the air hit them.
Fascination trumped any embarrassment. This position—so exposed, so vulnerable—spoke to something primal in both of us.
She arched, offering herself, and I lined up, my fingers bruising into her flesh, the need to claim her evaporating my thoughts.
I pushed in slowly, letting her sheath around me, letting every textured ridge of my shaft drag through her tight wetness, so full and hot I nearly lost myself on the second thrust.
She moaned, a long, broken sound, and ground herself back onto me, greedy for every inch.
The ridges flexed and pulsed, engineered to milk pleasure out of every stroke, and she took it all.
I braced her hips in both hands, setting a deep, relentless rhythm.
Each time I bottomed out, her body clenched so hard around me it bordered on pain—rapture and violence, no boundary left between them.
When I pressed in tight, the ridges along my cock twisted and flared in perfect sync with her own spasms, and she screamed, pleasure so sharp it bent her spine into a bow.
I was half-mad with need, every cell tuned to the rush and flutter of her body’s responses—her cunt slicked and gloved me so tight that I felt her heartbeat, electric and wild, pulsing along the whole length of me.
There was a brief, blissful second where she shattered, the sound that tore from her almost a sob, and in that instant I let go too, rutting into her in a final, brutal surge.
My cock swelled, releasing in long, hot floods, and the sensation of her milking me—greedy, unyielding—stole every word and thought from my mind.
When the tremors faded, I wrapped myself around her, dragging her up into my lap so I could keep her close, my chest fused to her back.
Her whole body trembled, but she laughed, a dark, glorious sound that rolled through her shoulders like thunder.
I held her, sensing the tension bleed off her limbs, the pulse of her heart slowly calming as we both caught our breath.
For a while, we did not move. I felt the wet heat of her against my lap, the flex of her body still holding me tight, neither of us quite ready to break the moment.
My hands roamed up her spine, learned each vertebra, the twitch of every muscle in her back.
Sadie’s head dropped against my shoulder, hair sticking to her damp skin, and she laughed again.
“Holy fuck,” she said, voice shredded to a whisper. “I think you just reset my entire central nervous system.” She turned her face toward mine, lips parted, the taste of her breath as rich as anything I’d ever inhaled.