Chapter 8 #2
He kissed her navel, his hands running along her smooth thighs, and then he lowered himself, kissing her thighs, his tongue on her inner thighs, tasting her, and finally, kissing her labia.
He licked his way up to her clit as she stood in front of him, and lifted her leg and propped it on her shoulder, his hands kneading her buttocks, his mouth exploring the clefts of her vagina.
Her moans punctuated her shallow exhale, her body heaving, her eyes closed and her face skyward as she rubbed her pelvis against his eager mouth, deriving pleasure with each thrust. They had danced this dance before, but never with such abandon.
Suddenly, without any warning, Cassian held onto her waist with both hands, and lifted her such that her other leg was over his shoulder too, and pinned her to the wall, pushing his mouth against her pussy, sucking, licking, kissing, and swallowing the wetness exuding from her.
He had been slow and tedious in the beginning, but now he was all torrent and vehemence, his tongue entering her cunt, his lips clasped tight to her vulva, sucking, licking.
His fingers buried in the skin of her ass as he pulled her closer and pinned her tighter, her moans echoing in the room, her hair flailing as she closed her eyes and quivered wildly, coming, pulsating.
No sooner than he was done did she lithely get off him and onto her feet, pushing him on the bed, pulling his pants off, letting his stiff cock come to full attention in front of her.
Its tip glistened in the dim light of the room, its length taut and stiff, throbbing.
She could see the vessels pumping blood along its length. She wanted to feel them on her tongue.
She got down on her knees as she took his cock in her hand, stroking it till it was so hard that it could burst, and then she kissed the tip, letting saliva pool on her tongue, then running her tongue along his shaft, wetting it all.
She kissed his frenulum, spending some time there, licking, sucking, running her lips against it, and she only relented when she heard him moan her name.
“Lesya, fuck,” he whispered under his breath, his eyes closed, his hands finding her head, holding it, caressing it. She pinned his hands to the side. She had given him agency before, and now the agency was hers.
A drop of precum emerged atop his tip. She licked it, relishing the sweet and salty flavor as it traveled along her tongue and dripped down her throat.
Finally, when she had him driven mad with desire, she took the tip in her mouth, tightening her lips around it before plunging and taking his cock into her throat.
She had taken his cock in her mouth several times before.
In the beginning, she would choke, she would even fight for breath.
He would never force her to do this. It was just something that had felt natural, something that she’d wanted to do to him.
And yet, it had taken years of practice for her to train her mouth to take all of his cock in.
It didn’t help his case that he had such a long and girthy member. But no matter.
She took it in her mouth with ease, feeling it bulging against her throat, and then she slowly slid it out of her mouth.
She didn’t want to let go of it just yet.
There was something deeply satisfying about picking up a rhythm, with her hand stroking the length from below as she sucked on him from the top.
Something so decadent about the way his precum oozed into her mouth as her tongue rubbed against the soft yet hard skin of his penis, as the tip touched the back of her throat, as her throat opened up to facilitate his length, as breathing became secondary and sucking his cock became the most important thing.
“Les, I’ll cum.”
Then cum, she said in his mind, seeing as how her mouth was busy. I want to taste you.
She could feel his whole body tightening, his hands on her head, holding it steady, and then suddenly relaxing as he came, his cock like a piston, pumping, his cum shooting in her mouth, sticking to her walls, traveling down her throat.
She licked him clean before she let go of his cock, and then she swallowed it all.
It was an acquired taste, and it had shocked her the first time she had let him cum inside her mouth.
But now, she anticipated it, yearned for it, and couldn’t have enough of it.
It was a shame that he came only once, like all men.
Or so she had read. She had no experience with another man other than Cassian, and for that matter, she did not want to.
He pulled her up such that she lay on him, completely naked, and then kissed her mouth eagerly, tasting himself on her tongue.
He kissed her profusely, and she was surprised at just how quickly he was able to get hard again.
She bit his lower lip and pulled at it, giving him just a tinge of pain.
A tinge he could take, but she would never hurt him beyond that.
She loved him too much to even think of it, even though at times he had made certain requests involving daggers and cuffs.
She could feel his cock poking at her hips as she sat on top of him.
She smiled at him, her breasts against his face, his face all red and buried underneath her, kissing what it could, sucking wherever his lips were able to find purchase, his hands running along the smooth skin of her back, touching, tracing, holding, squeezing.
She lowered herself on his cock, arching her back and gasping in pleasure as the walls of her vagina expanded, as the ridge of his tip rubbed against her pleasure center, and then as it traveled beyond, to a deeper source of pleasure that was tucked deep within.
A place where she could feel pain mixing with pleasure.
A place of pure sexual ecstasy and sweet agony.
She lowered herself, letting gravity do the rest, until she could feel his balls rubbing against her ass. And then she began straddling, riding him, shaking her hips up and down, sliding his cock inside, feeling it prod her soft, velvety walls, feeling her wetness gush forth as he thrust inside.
Feeling. Not thinking. Her non-thinking, all-feeling mind told her that it would all be well, that this was all there was to it.
Cassian laying underneath her, shirtless, his abs stiff, his chest broad, his body a canvas painted with sweat, his immaculate figure a testament to the fact that perfect gods once walked the earth and left men like Cassian in their image, a perfect man with a perfect cock, a god unto himself that she could worship by sucking, riding, fucking.
“Fuck me!” she screamed as his arms tightened around her waist.
It was the permission that he was waiting for.
He swung her around and lay her on her back, hovering upon her with his broad arms, his face next to her face, his intent eyes gleaning everything unspoken from her wide eyes.
Her mouth hung open, panting hot breath, his hot breath clashing with hers.
Pinning her under his weight, he thrust vigorously, all gentleness lost in the wake of wild passion.
He lifted her legs up and parted them open to thrust deeper, his body tricking beads of sweat upon her breasts, her midriff, and her convulsing stomach.
She lay sprawled underneath him, her chest rising and falling, her body jolting with each thrust, until finally she felt his cock pulse powerfully several times, leaving a hot and sticky mess inside her.
She wound her legs around his hips and pushed him deeper, and upon his last pulse, she let go of the orgasm she was holding on, and felt it hit her body with the weight of a sledgehammer, making her heart skip and beat irregularly, her breath hitch in her throat, her whole body convulsing as the wave of pleasure reached from her pussy and spread to every extremity.
He kissed her deeply one last time, whispering, “I love you, Les.”
“I love you, Cass.”
She whispered that last in a haze, her eyes closing, her body tired. She was briefly aware of him lying beside her on the bed, and then she was asleep, too tired to dream any new dreams, too relaxed to think any distressing thoughts.