Chapter 19 #2
He tears his mouth away, but he doesn’t relent completely, continuing to finger fuck me into oblivion as he gets to his feet.
He leans over me and grips the back of the seat to balance himself.
His face, throat, and chest are drenched, large wet splotches darkening his heather gray hoodie from the collar down his sternum.
My hands snap to his strained forearm, his tendons and veins popping as my release continues to spill into his palm. With staccato cries, I dig my nails into his skin, overwhelmed with the pressure in my core.
“Kellan,” I sob, the syllables broken and strained.
“Give me more,” he demands through gritted teeth, his voice guttural and hoarse.
The orgasm ebbs, but the bliss is never-ending, and I feel myself climbing up the cliff again, heading toward another.
He leans down until his mouth brushes across my ear. “Tell me who owns this cunt,” he whispers darkly.
I shake my head with a whine, refusing to fall for this again, refusing to give him any more ammo to use against me.
“You want your pussy to ever feel this good again?” he challenges. “’Cause I promise you, baby, no one else is gonna fucking touch you.”
“I can do it myself,” I gasp.
He removes his hand, careful not to spill the liquid pooled in his palm. The panic is instantaneous.
“No!” I whimper, my core pulsing painfully from the loss. My hips involuntarily undulate, seeking the pleasure he denies me.
Frustrated, I growl, “Kellan.”
“Let’s see, Reverie. You think you can fuck your pussy as good as I can? Show me.”
I can’t.
The only thing that’d come close is a toy, and while those have given me plenty of great orgasms, they’ve never come close to the ones Dread has given me. I’m definitely going to grieve that later—but after I grieve over the annoyed words spilling out of my mouth. “Okay, fuck, fine! You own me.”
He chuckles, inserting his fingers back inside me. My back arches with a pleased mewl.
I loathe how badly I want to smile in relief when he resumes stimulating my g-spot, though not as intensely as before.
I bite it back, my eyes fluttering when his lips feather down my neck to press a sensual kiss below my jaw.
“Good girl,” he whispers.
Goosebumps scatter across the surface of my skin, and a shiver tumbles down my spine. Two words and a simple kiss shouldn’t be so fucking sexy, yet, combined with his ministrations, it sends my eyes to the back of my head.
It’s evil how easily he turns me on, how easily he works me up with so little effort.
“You know I’ll always take good care of this needy little pussy, yeah?” he rasps.
Fucking Christ.
Even in my heightened state, I hear the ‘always’ and it is incredibly frustrating, but only because it has the intended effect on me. I want to purr and rub myself all over every inch of him so he’ll do exactly that—always take care of me.
Which is why I desperately need him to shut the hell up.
“Uh-huh,” I gasp, just as his fingers fuck me harder.
My body moves on autopilot as I reach for the waistband of his joggers and yank them down far enough to free his cock.
I don’t wait for him to process what I’m doing before I have my fingers wrapped around his thick girth, twisting my wrist up and down his length.
I release him briefly to run my hand over my pussy, wetting it thoroughly before returning it to his length to stroke him.
He lifts his head to let out a moan before whimpering, “Fuck.”
Those moans have haunted me almost more than his filthy words from the other night. The fucker must know the power of them, because he drops his lips back down to below my ear and lets out the sexiest raspy moan I’ve ever heard.
I shudder violently, that sound alone nearly sending me soaring off the edge.
I’ve never been with a guy who’s even half as vocal as he is, and I’m almost shocked he hands them out so freely. They’re as dangerous as his laugh and make me absolutely feral.
Instead of shutting him up, I’ve only made it worse, but I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. I’m hooked, intent on pulling more of those sounds out of him.
“This is all mine, too?” I ask breathlessly, dutifully ignoring how the possibility alone makes my heart flutter. I expect him to resist just as I do, but somehow, he never fails to surprise me.
“Fuck, yes, baby. All yours,” he groans, giving me ownership without a second thought, not a single moment of hesitation. And goddamn, I can see why he’s so addicted—the confirmation sends a surge of pleasure straight to my core.
And I feel… happy.
His body trembles, and he starts to lose control.
Until the chair suddenly jerks back, his weight sending the wheels gliding across the floor, causing us both to startle, followed by his growl of frustration.
“Fuck it,” he snarls, and removes his hand again, still taking care not to spill the small pool in his palm.
“Kell—” He takes his weight off the chair and grips my throat instead, prompting me to release him.
“Open your mouth,” he snaps impatiently.
Reflexively, I do, expecting him to direct me to his cock. Instead, he tips his other hand over my parted lips and pours my release into my mouth.
My eyes widen, and he squeezes my throat harder. “Don’t swallow it.”
I don't know why, but I listen. I’m disoriented when he grabs my waist and lifts me into his arms. It’s instinct to wrap around him, at a loss for what’s happening until he slams me against my door harshly.
I yelp then nearly scream when he grabs my ass to shift me up an inch, only to slam me down on his length, though the sounds are restricted to my throat with all the liquid in my mouth.
“Fuuck,” he groans while I stop breathing.
It burns as he stretches my pussy, ruthless in his endeavors as he shoves himself inside me. And with one final push, he bottoms out.
I groan low in my throat, my head thumping back against the door.
“Uh-uh,” he admonishes, his voice guttural. “That cum is mine. Give it back.”
He roughly pinches my cheeks and crushes his lips over mine. I operate on instinct alone, so when he opens for me, I push the liquid into his mouth with my tongue.
He growls, and his hand releases my cheeks to dive into my hair, fisting it tightly as he begins to fuck me.
I follow suit and tangle my fingers into his strands, our moans clashing as we lick my cum off one another’s tongues.
The kiss is sloppy but insanely hot, both of us too turned on to care about being controlled.
He pounds into me, our skin clapping and the door rattling with each thrust while I clutch him. Renewed pleasure seizes my core, far more intense than before.
I lose myself in the heat and passion, utterly consumed by him.
Within moments, we become frantic. He releases my hair to drop his hand back down to my ass, now using both hands to bounce me on his cock while I claw at him all over, unable to settle on just one area.
From his hair, to his neck, to his shoulders and chest, I’m so desperate for the orgasm he’s denied me several times now that it’s making me anxious.
He fucks me too hard for either of us to continue to kiss without our teeth knocking, but we stay close, our parted lips brushing and gliding as we moan into one another’s mouths.
My stomach clenches as the ecstasy mounts until my eyes are rolling again. Pressure builds in my bladder, and my lungs tighten, making it harder to breathe as the orgasm rises.
“Kellan.” His name comes out as an alarmed whimper, as if we’re in a car speeding straight toward the side of a bridge. “Please make me come, please make me come,” I chant anxiously.
He snarls, his teeth gritted as he bites out, “You have five fucking seconds, Reverie, or I come without you.”
Then, he reaches between our bodies and pinches my clit harshly—the perfect blend of pain and pleasure to break me apart.
My scream is sharp and strangled as I shatter around him, my inner walls contracting around him so hard, it strangles his cock.
“Fuck!”
He slams into me one final time before stilling, flooding me with his cum. His moans are stilted, and they come out like a skipping record player. His knees waver, and we drop a few inches before he catches himself and pins me against the door, barely able to keep the two of us from collapsing.
His teeth sink into the side of my neck, eliciting another burst of tingles throughout my body, and then he sends a fist cracking into the door next to my waist, his entire body shuddering.
I’m vaguely aware of it all, yet I view it from above, my consciousness transcending into another plane. The euphoria is far too intense for me to handle, just like going unconscious when pain becomes unbearable.
Eventually, he carefully lowers us down to his knees, spreading them wide to sit me between his thighs, though my legs remain hooked over his hips and he stays firmly inside me.
My upper back presses into the door, my hands grip his hair, his forehead resting on my shoulder, his fists planted on the floor on either side of my hips while we sensually grind against one another, wringing out the last of the pleasure.
Our small, breathless moans fill the air as our bodies move like a wave—rolling, arching, and seeking, as if they’re physically incapable of being separated. It’s heated, passionate, and it's beginning to feel like we're making love rather than riding out the aftershocks.
I don’t understand what's happening, only that we can't seem to stop, and instead of slowing down, our movements become a little more insistent. He’s still hard inside me, so when he rolls into me with a little added pressure, it sends warm electricity between my legs.
“Oh,” I gasp before my jaw unhinges when he does it again and again.
Our breathing grows louder and heavier, dense with renewed pleasure. He lifts his forehead from my shoulder to press hot, wet kisses along the side of my neck. My lashes flutter from the intensity building and building with each press of his hips, his pace steady and measured.