9. Chapter 9 - Legion #2
Her hand squeezes my cock, fingers tightenin' around the shaft as she starts pumpin'—slow at first, then finding a rhythm that's got me groanin' into her mouth like a man who's lost the ability to pretend he's in control.
My hips push forward into her fist without my permission and she smiles against my lips, feelin' that, knowin' exactly what she's doin' to me.
"Fuck," I breathe against her teeth.
She twists her wrist on the upstroke and my vision whites out for half a second. I bite her bottom lip—not hard, just enough to make her gasp—and she pumps faster, thumb dragging over the head where I'm already leakin' for her.
I turn her. Walk her backwards with my hands on her hips until the back of her legs hit the couch and she drops into the cushions laughin'.
Hair fanned out, tits bare, candlelight catchin' the angles of her collarbone, and she's laughin' like this is the easiest thing in the world.
Like we're not two people who've been tearin' each other apart for eighteen years.
Like there's nothin' outside this room at all.
That laugh. Jesus Christ, that laugh.
I sit down next to her, settle back against the cushion, and pat my lap. "Put yourself right here, baby."
She doesn't hesitate. Savannah swings one leg over and climbs into my lap, straddlin' me, her knees sinkin' into the cushion on either side of my hips.
The weight of her settles right over my cock—not on it, just against it, the heat of her pussy pressin' down against my shaft where I'm hard and throbbin' between us.
I take both her breasts in my hands. Full palms, thumbs findin' her nipples already stiff and tight. I roll them between my fingers and she drops her head back, throat exposed, that long line of neck I could spend the rest of my goddamn life tracing with my tongue.
"Look at you," I tell her. "Sittin' in my lap with your tits in my hands like you were fuckin' made for this."
She rolls her hips, slow, grindin' her wet pussy along the length of my cock without lettin' me inside. The slick heat of her slides across me and I grit my teeth hard enough to hear it.
"You teasin' me, Savannah?"
"Maybe." She rocks again, deliberate, and the friction pulls a sound out of me that I'm not proud of. "What are you gonna do about it?"
I pinch both nipples—firm, not soft—and she gasps, hands flyin' to my shoulders, nails bitin' in. "I'm gonna sit right here and play with these perfect fuckin' tits until you're beggin' me to let you put my cock inside you."
Her eyes go dark. That's the look. The one that tells me she's done pretendin' she's runnin' this show and she wants me to take it.
But I don't. Not yet.
I lean forward and take her left nipple into my mouth. Tongue flat, then circlin', then suckin' hard enough that her back arches and she moans my name.
My other hand stays on her right breast, kneadin', squeezin', thumbin' the nipple while I suck the left one until she's squirmin' in my lap. Every time she grinds down I feel how wet she is, coatin' my cock, and it's takin' everything in me not to grab her hips and slam her down onto it.
"You feel that?" I ask against her skin, bitin' the curve of her breast just hard enough to leave a mark. "Feel how hard you got me?"
"Yes." Her voice is already wrecked. Breathless.
"Tell me what you want."
She rolls her hips again, and this time the angle shifts just enough that the head of my cock catches at her entrance. We both freeze. Her eyes find mine. Neither of us breathes.
"I want you inside me," she whispers.
"How bad?"
She reaches between us and wraps her hand around my cock, linin' me up, the tip of me notched right against her openin'. Hot and slick and so close I can feel her pulse through the contact.
"Bad enough that I'm done waiting," she says.
And then she sinks down.
Fuck.
My hands go to her hips hard enough to bruise and I hold on because otherwise I'm gonna lose my goddamn mind.
She takes me slow—inch by inch—and her pussy is so tight and so wet and so fuckin' hot that every nerve ending in my body fires at once.
My jaw locks. My eyes slam shut. The sound that comes out of me isn't a word, it's somethin' animal, somethin' that crawled up from the basement of who I am and doesn't care who hears it.
She bottoms out—all of me, every inch buried deep—and we both go still.
Her forehead drops against mine. Her breath comes in short, ragged pulls that land warm on my lips.
I can feel her stretched around me, feel her body adjustin', accommodatin', that tight little flutter of muscle as she takes the fullness of it.
"Jesus Christ, Savannah." My voice comes out wrecked. Barely mine.
She rolls her hips. Just once. Slow. A test. And the slick drag of her pussy along my cock sends a bolt of white heat straight up my spine. I grip her hips tighter, thumbs pressin' into the hollows above her hipbones, holdin' her there.
"You feel so fuckin' good." I open my eyes and she's right there—blue eyes half-lidded, lips parted, lookin' at me like I'm the only solid thing in the room. "You always feel good, but this is somethin' else."
She grinds again. Deeper this time. Not risin' off me, not bouncin'—just this slow, filthy roll of her hips that keeps me buried to the hilt while she works herself on my cock.
The angle shifts with each rotation and I can feel every fuckin' ridge of her, every squeeze, every time her body clenches around me like it's tryin' to keep me there permanent.
"Yeah," I breathe. "Just like that. Don't stop."
"Wasn't planning on it." She braces her hands on my shoulders, fingertips diggin' into muscle, and finds her rhythm.
Slow, circular, devastatin'. Each grind pulls me deeper somehow—deeper than anatomy should allow—and the wet sounds between us fill the room alongside the candle-flicker and her breathin'.
I slide one hand up from her hip, palm flat against her stomach, feelin' the muscles flex and roll under her skin as she moves.
Up further. Between her breasts. I press my hand flat against her sternum, right over her heart, and feel it hammerin' against my palm like it's tryin' to break through to mine.
"Your heart's goin' crazy."
"Your fault." She grinds down hard and I groan, my head fallin' back against the couch. She takes advantage, leanin' forward, draggin' her tongue up the column of my throat, teeth grazin' my Adam's apple. "You do this to me every time."
I grab a fistful of her hair and pull her head back so I can see her face. Her throat stretched long, mouth open, eyes wild. Fuckin' gorgeous.
"Tell me how my cock feels."
She clenches around me on purpose—I know it's on purpose because she smiles when I hiss through my teeth—and rolls her hips again, that lazy, murderous grind that's gonna end me if she keeps it up.
"Full," she says. "You fill me up so full I can feel you in my chest."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Another grind. Slower. Wetter. I can hear it now—the obscene slick sound of her pussy workin' my cock—and it's louder than the candles, louder than the night outside, louder than everything. "Nobody's ever been this deep. Just you."
My cock throbs inside her. Physically throbs. And she feels it because her eyes go wide for half a second before that smile comes back.
"You like hearin' that," she says. Not a question.
"You have no fuckin' idea." I pull her hair tighter, just enough to keep her throat exposed, and press my mouth against her collarbone. Tongue, then teeth, then tongue again. She shivers from scalp to thighs and I feel it everywhere she's touchin' me. "Tell me more."
She cups my face with both hands, thumbs on my cheekbones, and makes me look at her. Her hips don't stop movin'. That slow, deliberate grind that keeps my cock deep and my sanity shallow.
"I think about this constantly," she says. "At breakfast. In the shower. On Cassia. I think about exactly how you feel inside me and I get so wet I have to cross my legs and pretend I'm fine."
"Savannah—"
"I touch myself thinkin' about you." Her voice drops low, almost conspiratorial, like she's tellin' me a secret even though it's just us in this room. "I put my fingers inside myself and pretend they're yours and it's never enough. It's never deep enough. Never thick enough."
My hips buck up into her involuntarily and she gasps, nails scrapin' down my chest. I do it again—harder—and the slap of skin echoes through the trailer.
"Do that again," she breathes. "Please, Legion." She's beggin' now. "Do it again…"