Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
SKULL
“Were your trying to drench yourself like you just did my dick, Lass?” I chuckle as I reach over her body and turn off the water.
“What?” I drop a kiss on her lips as the lust clears from her eyes.
“You activated the faucet. It has a touch sensor.” She arches and looks behind her before the most incredible sound I’ve ever heard passes her lips.
Christ, who knew a giggle could sound so fucking sweet?
“I made us both wet,” her laughter fills me with so much joy I almost forget how fucking horny I am.
Almost.
“That you did, Hen, and I mean to make it worse.” I withdraw from her entrance and start to stroke my cock.
Ivy sits up and watches as I run my cock through her soaked lips to bump my head on her clit.
“That feels so good.” I watch her closely for any discomfort or sensitivity, but she shows none.
Our foreheads touch, and we lean into each other to watch as I work myself to the very edge of my sanity. I want to shove myself so far inside her that my essence will never leave. I want to implant my soul into hers and live inside her for eternity.
I need her so fucking full of me she’ll never doubt my word again.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” I stutter the words as the first spurt hits her clit, and then instinct takes over, and I push inside her.
Her gasp alerts me to my action, and I still my hips from driving all the way home. My mouth opens to apologize, but I never get the words out. Her legs wrap around my waist and squeeze, pushing her core down my length and milking every drop of cum deep into her pussy.
She doesn’t stop until our pelvises touch, and the little minx does it while staring into my eyes.
She fucking owns me.
“That shouldn’t have happened, Hen.” I swallow hard to clear my throat.
She shrugs and reaches up to kiss me.
“I need to feel you. You said to do whatever felt good.” Her hips rock slightly as she grinds her core on my still stone-hard cock, and the fucker pulses inside her, still letting semen fill her.
Cause I’m not fucking wearing a condom, and we both know it.
There’s a multitude of issues we need to discuss, but none are more important than the fact that I’ve just claimed the Lass, and she has no feckin idea.
“Ivy,” I hiss as her core tightens around me as she chases another orgasm.
“Please,” she begs on my lips.
“Fuck.” I withdraw and surge back in.
My hands go to her hips to aid in the movement as I drag her pussy over my cock. Heat, tight, and wet muscles tug on me as I move inside her, making obscene sounds.
Our lips are fused, my hands buried in her hair as I move my hand to her ass and lift her off the counter. Aided by gravity and the strength of her thighs, we both groan at the new position.
“I want to live inside you.” She nods at my words before her orgasm takes us both by surprise, and I stumble to keep my knees from buckling.
I find the wall behind my back and slide down it until she’s kneeling, still firmly impaled on my dick, and we both gasp for air.
“Thank you.” I laugh as I move hair out of her face.
“My fucking pleasure, Lass. However, this was not the plan. I still need to feed you.” Her eyes flip to where we’re still attached, and she licks her lips.
“Ivy, Hen. You’re making this impossible.” I chuckle as I slowly lift her off my shaft.
“Sorry,” she smiles at me evilly.
“We should talk. Over dinner.” I add when her stomach rumbles again.
“Why don’t you clean up while I get something started? Take whatever you want to wear from my closet.” She nods and points down the hallway.
“Same layout as mine?” I nod at her question and then get stuck enjoying the view of her ass as she walks away.
That is until I see my semen dripping down her inner thigh.
“Christ,” I say, pulling at the strip of hair I keep on my head, pulling the elastic band out so I can run my fingers through the long waves.
I came in her. TWICE.
What the fuck was I thinking? Well, I wasn’t, clearly.
I stand and pop into the loo to clean up and then go back to the kitchen to search for something quick to make. I’ve just pulled out ingredients for stir fry and begun chopping veggies when Ivy comes back wearing one of my family tartan-like a dress.
I drop the knife and grab the counter.
“Hen, do you have any idea what wearing that does to me?” She bites her lip and shakes her head.
“Is it bad? Should I take it off?” She reaches under her arm to untie the bow, holding it up, and I growl.
“Dinna dare.” Her smile grows.
“Sit, please.” She creeps up slowly, and takes the stool directly in front of me, and then runs her fingers across the counter.
“Hope you cleaned up first.” I shake my head but smile.
I love this lighter side of her.