nineteen #3
But I force it back, gritting my teeth against the need to take as much as I can. Still, I can’t help myself from pushing deeper, feeling the tip slip past the tight ring of muscles.
She breaks the kiss, her chest rising as heat engulfs her body. But I don’t let her run. I grab her neck, bringing her back to my mouth as I kneel slightly bent over her shoulder, my fingers moving over her clit as I push the first piercing in.
She curses, biting my tongue so hard it draws blood, but as I start moving, a moan so loud escapes her that it runs down my throat, making my chest heave.
I want more. I want her to moan like this until she loses her voice because it’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard.
Her body yielding to me one inch at a time, our kiss matching the rhythm of my cock as I bury another piercing, then another.
She gasps, telling me she feels each one, as the metal adds sensation beyond what flesh alone could provide.
When I’m down to the fourth, she brings a hand to the back of my head, grabbing my hair. Half to anchor herself, half to threaten me that she will rip it off if I keep going.
I want to cause pleasure, not damage, so this is as far as I’ll go tonight. I’m impressively big, not even counting the piercings, and the way she’s squeezing me has my own body trembling.
I pause, allowing her to adjust to the intrusion as my hand dances between her folds, the other slipping down to her breast, squeezing hard enough to test the line between pleasure and pain.
I withdraw slowly, but not completely, before pressing forward again, establishing a rhythm that's gentle enough to keep me from getting too carried away, and strong enough to make her vision blur around the edges.
Each thrust sends pleasure spiraling through me, heightened by the knowledge that she's giving me something she's never given anyone else.
As her body relaxes further, I increase my pace, stroking her clit until she hisses out something.
I don’t even know if she's asking me something or if it’s a threat because her words are indecipherable right now.
The dual stimulation soon has her trembling, her internal muscles clenching around me in ways that threaten to shatter my hard-won control.
I grind my teeth and keep my rhythm until her moans turn into a purr.
The thought of taming a lioness into a kitten brings me closer to the edge than the act itself.
"Now," I growl, the words torn from some primal place inside me as I feel my own climax approaching. "Every part of you is mine." I’ve never wanted someone or even something as badly as I want this woman in front of me. I mean that in every sense of the word, not just to satisfy my deepest fantasies–although, I must admit, fulfilling them with her exceeds my wildest dreams. I’m talking about wanting to do everything with her, from just eating pizza to even going to the grocery store. And I’ve never fucking gone to the grocery store in my existence. I’ve always had someone do that for me.
I’ve also never needed caramel popcorn—since that’s a contradiction in my book.
Still, I enjoyed going with her and picking up an insane amount of Pop-Tarts and other ultra-processed shit that's bad for her health.
Not that beings like me worry about things like that.
I move again, and I can tell she’s about to break with the next sway of my hips.
A broken cry echoes in my mouth as she comes apart beneath me, her mascara running down her face as she falls over the edge, her eyes barely staying open as her body is struggling to keep up with the pleasure.
The rippling contractions of her channel trigger my own release, and I drive deep one final time, emptying myself inside her with a roar that's barely human.
For several heartbeats, we remain joined, both of us breathing heavily in the aftermath of what just happened. Of how fucking amazing it felt.
When I finally withdraw, I gather her against my chest right there on the floor. Her body is still trembling, her face flushed, from the act itself, but also from a hint of embarrassment at how badly she screamed while I claimed inch after inch of her ass.
The evil inside me settles, temporarily sated by this new conquest. But as I stroke her hair from her face, I recognize a dangerous truth: my hunger for her grows rather than diminishes with each claiming.
She's becoming necessary to me in ways no human should be, and in ways no other person ever will.
"We should get back," she murmurs against my chest a few minutes later, ever practical despite what we've just shared.
I press my lips to her forehead, allowing us a few more moments together so she’d partially recover before we return to our hunt.
"Ashford can wait a little longer," I say, needing to hold her a little longer, as if it would ever be enough to keep me satisfied even for half an hour.
"Let him be the one waiting for us. Wondering what our plans are. Fear improves the scent of prey."