8. Get Her Rocks Off
GET HER ROCKS OFF
MITCHELL
Before I can even think, I am reacting. Pressing part of myself forward, between her legs to catch her before she can lose her grip completely.
She wraps her strong thighs around my rock rod. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. With my new level of perception, I can barely bridle my joy every time she grants me the grace of her contact.
She drags herself across me and releases a small whimper from her glorious throat.
“Are you alright?” I ask. “Did I hurt you?”
“Fuck, say that again.” She mutters.
“Are you okay? Injured?”
“I’m fine, fine, I just–need a moment.” She says, her voice breathy and with her face pressed against my wall, I can feel every part of her soft body. The squish of her breasts, the cushion of her cheek, the damp sweat of her thighs.
The sheer pleasure she brings me with her presence. Another fine shiver runs through me. I tremble slightly and she groans.
“Yes,” she mutters. Her legs tightening and her hips tilting forward. It feels perfect.
“You like it when I make those sounds?” I ask.
“I more than like it. If you keep doing that, I’m going to–finish.” She stops talking.
“I can keep talking. If you like? I would love to help you finish.” I grumble out, “I would help you with anything you asked me to.”
She grinds her hips back, and then forward again. It feels so wonderful, it pulls something from me. It makes me want to touch more of her, to feel her, to be with her. Every little noise from her lips makes me need more from her.
“I’ll do anything for you, Jo.” I grumble, needing more noises from her, more of her touches, more of her.
She trembles as I talk, and her hips clench even tighter than before. She cries out. Her fingers flexing on their holds, the dampness between her legs increases, and she hangs on me, gasping for breath.
The lightness in the world solidifies even more. With my Jo on me, mounting me, her hands all over my rough side. I feel closer to the world, closer to her, closer to being.