Chapter 5 #3
She wraps her small hand around the base and my hips kick up off the blanket. She's still got the condom pinched between her fingers, and she takes her sweet time rolling it down my dick, her thumb brushing the underside as she goes, and I'm grinding my teeth.
"Comfortable?" she asks, all sweet and innocent.
"Get up here."
She laughs, a low, dirty giggle I want more of, and she shifts forward, bracing one hand flat on my chest. Her other hand reaches down to grip me again, lining me up, dragging the head through her slick flesh.
When she bumps her clit, she gasps and everything narrows down to that one slippery point of contact.
"Laurel—sit on it, sweetheart. Please."
She begins to sink down.
Just the head, popping past her entrance, and her eyes flutter closed and her mouth drops open in a small oh and I have to fist my hands in the wool blanket on either side of me to keep from grabbing her hips and yanking her down.
She’s so tight even just at the tip. I can feel her stretching around me, slick and hot.
I'm shaking. "Fuck."
"Big," she breathes, and there's wonder in her voice. "Beck—god, you're so big…"
"You can take it. You're soakin' wet for me, sweetheart, you were made for this cock."
She sinks further. Her thighs are trembling on either side of mine.
Her hand presses harder against my chest and she squeezes her eyes shut and rolls her hips down a fraction.
And I watch her sweet pussy swallow the rest of my dick in slow motion, until I’m fully inside her…
her ass against my thighs, her eyes wide.
"Oh god," she whispers.
"That's it." My voice is barely working. "You took every inch, darlin’."
Her hair is falling out of its braid in dark wisps around her face, my cock buried to the hilt inside her.
And she’s the sexiest thing in the world.
She starts to rock her hips and we both groan.
“You set the pace, baby,” I rasp.
She nods and bites her lower lip, carefully moving her hips, testing what works, learning the shape of me inside her. We’re gasping and moaning as she finds her rhythm, lifting up and sinking back down, and the slick drag of her pussy along my cock is so good I have to fight my climax.
When I open them, she's watching me.
"You like that, cowboy?"
"Hell yes."
"Want more?"
"Whatever you'll give me, darlin'."
She rises higher this time. Lifts up until I'm almost out of her, the rim of my dick catching at her entrance, and then she sinks back down in one long, slow stroke, and I almost choke.
"Fuck, Laurel!"
She does it again…her hips rolling on the down-stroke so I hit something deep that makes her gasp. "Just like that?"
"Just like that. Christ, just like that…"
I get my hands on her thighs, sliding up the lean muscle of them, around to grip her ass. I'm not pulling or pushing—just anchoring. Letting her feel me.
Then she rides me harder.
"You feel like heaven," I get out. "Feel how perfect we fit? Look at how sexy you are with my big cock inside you."
"Beck…"
"That's right." My grip on her ass tightens. "Ride that cock, sweetheart. Take what you need. Use me."
She picks up the pace.
The wet sounds of her sliding down on me fill the room, mixing with the rain on the tin and the crackle of the fire. Her tits bounce on every down-stroke and I can’t decide where to look—her face, her mouth open and panting, her tits, the place where my cock is disappearing into her over and over.
It's all too much.
I cup one breast, rolling her nipple between my fingers, and she throws her head back and moans.
"Beck—I’m so close."
“Me too, baby, me too.”
Her movements get sloppier, more frantic, less controlled. She's chasing it now. She's bouncing on me hard and fast, and I plant my good foot flat on the floor and start meeting her thrusts from below, driving up into her on every down-stroke.
The sounds she's making are obscene.
"Come on me, sweetheart." I whisper. "Right here. Right now. Squeeze that tight little pussy around my big dick and come for me—"
She breaks.
She comes with her head tossed back and her hands gripping my sides, a long, broken cry tearing out of her throat. Her pussy clenches around me in long, hot, rhythmic pulses—squeezing me, milking me—and I can’t take it, my own orgasm rips through me like a bolt of lightning.
"Fuck yes, Laurel!"
I come hard, my seed shooting out of me. My hips spasm up off the blanket, driving deep into her one last time, and I empty into the condom as I convulse.
Her body shudders on top of mine and finally falls forward onto my chest. She slides out quickly, then cuddles up next to me.
We lie there and just breathe.
"Holy shit," she finally mumbles into my chest.
A laugh shakes loose out of me. "Yeah."
After a minute, I deal with the condom—dropping it in the pail by the stove—and then I pull her right back into me before she can get cold. I tug the blanket over her shoulders.
The rain has eased to a steady, sleepy pour. My ankle is throbbing in time with my pulse, but it’s more than fine.
Her breath evens out against my chest, and within about five minutes Laurel is asleep.
I think—clear as a bell, no joke or smart-ass remark for once in my life—that I’m gonna marry this woman.
Outside, I distinctly hear Riot let out a low whinny.
"Yeah, buddy," I whisper. "You know."