Delilah
He has me stripped naked in my kitchen within seconds.
The sports bra and leggings get thrown haphazardly onto the chair behind him, then my panties are slowly lowered over my hips and down my legs, but they don’t make it to the chair.
They get as far as his jeans pocket. Then he lifts me onto the counter and steps back.
"Fuck." It comes out as a gruff breath with a desperate edge as his eyes rove over my body.
My nipples are pebbled, begging for attention. There’s a new weight to my breasts that matches the one in my lower belly along with the thrum of need that’s turned my blood electric.
The kitchen light is too bright, unforgiving, and for a second I want to fold my arms across myself, but the look on his face stops me. He looks wrecked already, jaw tight, pupils blown wide, and I realize with a jolt that this is the first time he’s truly seeing me.
"Touch yourself," he says. His voice is low, rough, nothing like the careful neutrality he uses at the café counter.
I blink. "What?"
"You heard me." He hasn’t moved. He’s still dressed in his jeans, the belt hanging open, while I’m naked on my own kitchen counter with my underwear in his pocket. The imbalance should feel ridiculous, but it doesn’t. "I want to watch you."
My face heats, but the embarrassment curdles instantly into something sharper when I see the hunger in his expression.
I let my hand slide down my stomach. My own touch feels different under his gaze, more acute, every nerve ending awake and reaching. I watch his face as my fingers find where I’m already wet, his breath catches audibly.
"Like that," he murmurs. He shifts his weight, and I can see how hard he is, straining against his jeans. "Don’t rush it, Delilah."
I lift both legs until my heels come to rest on the edge of the counter and part my lips to run my first and middle fingers down either side of my clit and entrance. I stretch myself apart a little, opening myself while I watch his eyes go molten at what he sees.
The sound he makes, a quiet rumble of restraint, goes straight through me.
I give myself another long, slow stroke before lightly pinching my clit between my fingers, testing which pressure feels best.
When a bolt of pleasure jolts through me and a gasp escapes my mouth, I know I’ve found it.
"Fuck Delilah, you’re so much sexier than I ever imagined. All spread out for me like a feast. I can’t wait to make you come on my face."
His words hit me just right, ramping the pleasure up a notch as I circle myself with tentative strokes, then firmer as he unzips his jeans.
The kitchen is silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and our breathing. I’ve done this alone a hundred times, but never like this. Never in my kitchen with someone watching as if the sight of it is the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
"You’re beautiful," he says, and the words are almost reverent.
"The way your breath catches. The flush spreading over your throat...
" He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him, though he still doesn’t touch me.
"I can see exactly where you need it. Right there. Right where you’re quivering. "
A sharp spasm of pleasure shoots up my spine, making my tits jump and catching his attention.
He moans, pulling his cock free, revealing himself to me. His cock is thick and long and weeping at the tip.
"I want you to—"
"Not yet." His hand closes around my wrist, stilling my movement. "I want to remember this. You, open like this, wanting."
He reaches out now, running the rough pads of his fingers where mine were only moments ago.
He leans in then, finally, and kisses me.
It’s deep and filthy and nothing like the careful restraint he’s shown for months.
His free hand cups my breast, thumb dragging over my nipple, and I arch into him with a sound I didn’t know I could make.
His mouth moves to my throat, my collar bone, down over one breast and sucking in my nipple hard enough to make me mewl.
He has one hand between my thighs and the other cupping my other breast, squeezing almost enough to hurt and yet the weight won’t ease.
He pulls back and looks me in the eyes again. Asking. My pelvis jerks upwards in response, my pussy begging for attention.
Then his mouth is on me. My right hand shoots to the back of his head, my fingers threading through his thick hair. MY left hand goes up and back, searching for something to hold onto and finding the edge of the plate rack.
The sensation where his mouth is on me is heavy and hot and when I manage to get my vision to focus on him, I can see his shoulder flexing and moving and know he is jerking himself as he eats me.
I don’t know why I find that so hot, but when he slides his tongue inside me, moving in thick loops, licking at my internal walls, my vision blurs again.
I’m breathing fast now. Panting, pulling in air like I’m drowning. My head feels full of cotton wool and I don’t recognize any of the sounds I’m making. When he pulls his tongue from me, I whimper and plead.
He says something, but I’m too far gone for words to make sense and pull his head back to where I need it.
His tongue finds my clit and flickers over it relentlessly until the wall holding the pleasure back is completely gone.
A scream tears through me on the first wave.
My foot slips from the edge of the counter, and he catches it, hooking it over his shoulder as he licks me through each stage.
My hips roll, my pussy seeking him out where I need him most as I come apart.
When there’s nothing left but the aftershocks, he pulls back just enough to look at me. "I can’t be gentle," he says. "I want to be, but I can’t."
"I don’t need you to be gentle."
He lifts me off the counter. My legs wrap around his waist like that’s where they’ve always belonged, and he carries me two steps before we’re both too impatient, too frantic.
We end up on the kitchen floor, my back against the cool linoleum, his chest warm against my tits as he lowers himself over me.
He pauses, kneeling between my thighs, and takes me in again. The floor is hard and unforgiving, but I don’t care. I reach for him but he stops me again.
"I can’t," he says. "If you touch me, it will all be over. I’m barely holding it together as it is."
I can’t believe how wrecked this man is. This tall, broad, bratva man is almost whimpering at the sight of me lying before him. He just ate my pussy until I saw stars and he is still looking at me like I hold the answers to all the questions he has ever asked.
"Tell me," he says, kneeling over me. "Tell me you want this."
"I want this," I say, and my voice is steady even though I’m shaking. "I’ve wanted this since I first saw you."
He pushes inside me.
The stretch is sudden, overwhelming, and my head falls back against the floor with a soft thud.
He groans, a raw, broken sound, and stills for a moment, giving me time to adjust. His arms bracket my head, muscles taut, and when I open my eyes, he’s looking down at me with an expression that’s almost pained.
"You feel—" He stops, jaw working. "Christ, Delilah."
I wrap my legs higher around his hips, urging him deeper, and he loses whatever thread of control he was holding.
He moves with a rhythm that’s hard and relentless, each thrust driving me against the floor.
The contrast between the cold linoleum floor and his warm chest sends sparks up my spine.
I dig my nails into his back, feeling the shift of muscle beneath my palms, the sheer physicality of him after months of wondering.
"Look at me," he demands, and I do. I hold his gaze as he drives into me, watching the way his eyes darken, the way his control frays at the edges. "I knew you’d feel amazing," he grunts, "but not like this."
He lifts one of my legs higher, driving deeper.
"Fuck, you’re perfect." His jaw is tight and his words are barely sounds now.
"I can’t hold back—fuck Delilah—" the sound he makes as he fills me is somewhere between a growl and whimper. His mouth goes slack and his eyes drop to the space where we’re joined as he keeps pumping me full of his cum in a now broken rhythm.
"Fuck—" he says again, dropping his head and sucking one of my nipples into his mouth, making my body spasm. "Fuck, I’m so sorry."
I let out a light laugh. "There’s absolutely no reason to apologize for that," I say, lightly smacking his ass when he presses himself as deep as possible and stays there. "I’ve never felt so sexy in my entire life."
He doesn’t say anything more. He kisses me, everywhere he can reach with his mouth while his still half hard cock stays buried inside me.
"I’m not pulling out until I make you come on my cock," he says after a few minutes.
"You don’t have to do that," I say, knowing it’s not something guys can usually do when they’ve just come themselves.
He doesn’t respond, just presses his pelvis against mine, nudging against my clit just right.
My body feels boneless, but my clit, having been woken up by the sex, makes itself known again.
"I’m going to make you come on my cock so I can feel you milk me," he says, alternating between my nipples, giving each one equal attention with his tongue.
The slick between my thighs makes me wonder if it’s possible to get any more out of him.
"I’m going to keep filling you Delilah, until you beg me to stop because you can’t hold any more of my cum."
Heat floods me, my ears feel like they fill with water. How do his words do this to me?
"Can you feel that?" he asks, rolling his pelvis as he pulls out a little, dragging his first load out with him, and then thrusting back in hard enough to make me gasp. "Can you feel how hard you’ve got me again already. My balls are so heavy. I’ve not emptied them since before the wedding. I was saving it all for you."
Oh...oh.
"Now you’re full of my hot cum and I’m going to make you sum so hard that you drag the rest of it out of my heavy balls. I want your pretty pussy to completely empty me. Drain me of everything."
I can’t think. I can’t move. I feel like my brain has entered another dimension entirely while my body stays here on the kitchen floor and turns into nothing but a puddle of pleasure.
He drags out of me slowly again, right to the tip, and then thrusts back in, hitting the spot that women talk about in magazines, but I didn’t know I had.
My mouth opens on a silent ‘O’ and my eyes go wide.
"That’s it Delilah, take my cock like a good girl." His eyes are on me, I can feel them, and the praise makes my body respond in ways I never expected. "I’m going to have you whimpering on my cock, cum starved and desperate to be filled every night."
Okay. I say it in my head, because my words aren’t working right now.
"Your pussy is already quivering, it knows what it wants. What it needs."
Yes.
"Take it, Delilah, take what you need." He is easing in and out of me at a gentler pace than before, making sure to roll against my clit with every thrust. "Milk me so I can fill you again. You’re mine, Delilah. You’re mine. Do you hear me?"
I can’t nod or talk. The best I can give him is to look directly into his eyes and hope he can see my answer.
His rhythm picks up.
"Look how well you take my thick cock," he grunts. He continues talking dirty, but only some of the words break through. "...take…fuck yes…so hot…tight…full of my cum…bounce…"
Then the world around me shatters like glass. Or maybe it’s me. I don’t even know. All I know is that my body isn’t my own anymore and there’s someone screaming.
My stomach clenches and lifts me up, my arms come around Jasper’s neck and hold on. That’s when I realize it’s me. I’m screaming.
His words aren’t words anymore. They’re the desperate sounds of a man coming apart. It sounds almost painful but I can’t separate myself from the pleasure enough to check he is okay. All I can do is ride it out on his cock as it throbs inside my channel.
We’re both twitching and panting when he softens and slips from inside me. I whimper at the loss, the soreness it’s left behind.
He kisses my forehead and steps away briefly, grabbing some kitchen roll and wetting it beneath the faucet.
He presses it against me while I’m still coming down from wherever the hell I just was.
"You’re amazing, Delilah," he says. "You did so well taking me like that for the first time. Like you were made for me."
I want to say something, but I still can’t. Instead I lie there and let him soothe my sore pussy while he drops kisses over whichever bit of my skin is nearest to him.
"You’re perfect." Kiss. "So perfect." Kiss. "Everything I could have ever dreamed of." Kiss.
I gradually come back into myself. Cell by cell, it feels like, and every single one of them changed forever.
"Hi," I whisper.
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Hi."
He shifts to my side and slides his arms underneath me, lifting me as he stands.
He carries me through the open door to my bedroom and lays me down gently before lying down beside me and pulling me into his chest.
"I should have done that months ago," he says into my hair.
Jasper’s fingers trace lazy patterns along my shoulder, and I know, with the kind of certainty that settles deep in your bones, that nothing about my life is going to be the same.