Chapter 46 #2
He draws the first orgasm out for what feels like forever, edging me closer, then easing back just enough to make me whimper, until it finally breaks over me in long, rolling waves.
My walls clench hard around his fingers, thighs shaking, a broken cry tearing from my throat as pleasure pulses through every nerve.
He stays with me through every aftershock, tongue gentling but never stopping until I’m limp and panting, slick coating his chin and fingers.
Only then does he lift his head. Lips shiny and swollen, eyes heavy-lidded with raw need. His voice is quiet, controlled.
“More?”
I nod, breathless, voice wrecked. “Yes.”
He makes a low sound of approval in his throat and dives back in.
The second orgasm he drags out even slower.
His tongue flattens and laps at my oversensitive clit with broad, wet strokes while three fingers now stretch me wider, scissoring gently, curling and pressing until I’m sobbing his name.
He edges me mercilessly, bringing me right to the brink, then slowing until the peak recedes, over and over until I’m trembling, begging with wordless whimpers.
When he finally lets me fall, it’s shattering.
My entire body locks up, back bowing off the bed, a raw sob ripping from me as the orgasm crashes through me harder than the first, wave after wave leaving me shaking and tear-streaked.
He works me through it with the same steady control, gentling his touch only when the tremors finally start to fade and my breathing evens out.
Then he rises up on his knees.
He shoves his sweatpants down just enough to free himself. His cock springs heavy and thick between us, flushed dark, veins standing out, the broad head already slick with pre-cum. He fists himself once, slowly, eyes never leaving mine, jaw tight with restraint.
He settles over me again, careful, one hand bracing beside my head. The blunt, swollen head of his cock nudges my soaked entrance, sliding through my folds teasingly before he begins to push in.
Inch by thick, stretching inch.
The sound that rips out of him is pure, guttural hunger, like he just took the first hit of the strongest drug in the world.
A long, broken groan tears from deep in his chest as my walls slowly yield around his girth, fluttering and clenching as he sinks deeper.
He goes slow, so slow, letting me feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse of his cock as he fills me completely.
When he finally bottoms out, hips flush against mine, buried to the hilt, he stays there, breathing hard against my neck, body trembling with the effort it takes not to move.
“Fuck…” It’s barely more than a growl, raw and wrecked.
Then he starts to move.
Deep, rolling thrusts. Consuming. Sensual.
He pulls out almost to the tip, letting me feel the drag of his thick cock against every sensitive wall, then slides back into the hilt with the same measured power.
Every stroke is deliberate, hips grinding at the end of each thrust so the base of his cock presses against my clit.
His hand stays at my hip, thumb stroking soothing circles over my skin; the other threads through my hair, anchoring me to him, holding me steady while he fucks me slow and deep.
The wet, filthy sound of his cock sliding in and out of my soaked pussy fills the room with every thrust. My moans mix with his low, guttural groans.
He keeps the pace relentless but controlled, building the pleasure higher and higher until we’re both shaking, skin slick with sweat, bodies locked together.
When the final orgasm hits, it takes us together.
My walls flutter and clamp down hard around his thick length, rippling and squeezing him as the pleasure explodes through me.
He groans deep and broken, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as he can go and spills inside me, hot, thick pulses of cum flooding my pussy while he grinds against me, drawing every last pulse from both of us.
We come locked together, trembling, breathing each other in, bodies fused in the aftermath.
We’re still joined, his cock still buried deep inside me, twitching with the last aftershocks, when the air in the room shifts.
Elijah stands in the doorway.
His eyes burn, hunger flashing raw and open for half a second, then jealousy, sharp and quick. Then the cold mask of control slams back into place, jaw tight, expression unreadable.
I whisper, soft and aching, “Elijah…”
He walks into the room slowly, deliberately. Each step measured. Zach stays exactly where he is, still thick and warm and buried to the hilt inside me, making my body flutter involuntarily around him with every heartbeat. The contrast sends a shiver through me, nervous heat curling low in my belly.
Elijah stops at the edge of the bed. He leans down, so gently, and brushes the softest kiss over my lips. Barely there. A claim wrapped in careful restraint.
“Jackson has breakfast ready for you, wife,” he murmurs against my mouth.
The word wife settles heavy between us, possessive, quiet, final. His gaze flicks once to Zach, something silent and heavy passing between them, before he straightens and walks out without another word.
The door stays open behind him.
I let out a shaky breath.
Zach kisses me softly, lingering, then eases out of me with the same careful control, slowly pulling his still-hard cock free, a thick trickle of his cum following. He helps me sit up, finds my clothes, and dresses me slowly, pressing quiet kisses to my shoulder, my wrist, every inch he covers.
He feels the sadness before I speak it. Pulls me into his chest, arms wrapping around me, solid and warm.
“Elijah will come back,” he murmurs against my hair. “He’s just processing in his own way. Now let’s get some food into you. Gotta keep my woman and our baby strong.”
I nod against him, letting his steady warmth hold me, even as the ache of Elijah’s controlled distance lingers like a bruise I don’t know how to heal.