87. Summer #3
He kisses me deeply as he thrusts his fingers inside me, and he rubs his cock against my hip, moaning ferally.
When I answer with a pained whimper, he brushes my clit with his thumb in reward.
My orgasm coils inside me, desperate to spring, but he’s not ready yet.
He eases the pressure on my clit and scissors his fingers in my cunt, stretching me as he carefully works at fitting a third thick finger inside me.
The fullness is almost unbearable, but the pleasure is so fucking intense that I rock my hips, wanting even more.
It’s not enough. I want him inside me. I need to feel him inside me.
He brushes my clit again, and this time he doesn’t stop.
He bites my lip hard as he thrusts his fingers inside me over and over, his thumb strumming my clit rhythmically.
I twist my hands in his shirt, instinctively holding him here, making sure he doesn’t stop.
My whole body tightens, my muscles quivering as slick pours from my core, wetting his hand.
I lift one leg, bracing it against his thigh as he masterfully builds my orgasm.
It’s going to fucking destroy me, but I don’t care. I need it. Desperately.
Fuck.
He curls his fingers inside ?me and presses down against my clit.
Everything explodes. I practically scream from the intensity, my vision sparking at the edges.
My entire body feels like it is no longer under my control, nothing but an amalgamation of transcendent pleasure.
I may not know what to do with my body right now, but he does.
He tightens his hand on me, holding me up as he guides me through the cataclysmic event.
He slows his fingers but doesn’t pull them out. Gentling me with light caresses to my clit, his touch makes me gasp and tighten with how sensitive I am. He pants into my mouth, and I can feel the feral, desperate energy radiating from him .
“That’s my good fucking girl,” he growls into my lips.
He slips his fingers from me and brushes them over my clit once more.
This time, there is a bite of delicious pain, and I gasp, my thighs trembling.
“Something to remember this moment,” he says, bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking on them.
I swallow as I watch him, the continued throbbing in my clit prolonging the haze of my orgasm.
He leans in and kisses me again, so deep it takes my breath away.
“This was a mistake,” he moans, and I tense a little. “Because now that I’ve kissed you, I will be the last male you ever kiss.” He growls possessively and licks my bottom lip.
“What?” I ask, pulling back, feeling like I’ve been doused in freezing cold water.
“This is ours,” he says, kissing me again.
I lose myself in the kiss for a moment before his words register, and I pull back again. “Stranger.”
“Yes?” he says, tightening his hands on my hips.
“I’m not there.”
“There?” he asks, and I brush his hands off me, moving out from between him and the gazebo wall.
“This can’t come as a surprise to you,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. I glance at him, and he licks his fingers again.
“I am not asking for a commitment, per se. But this is for us.” There is a predatory wildness in his eyes, a dangerous possessiveness.
“What are you talking about?”
“Kissing.”
I blink. “Speak plainly.”
He straightens and closes the distance, cornering me once again. “I am the only person you kiss. From this day to our last,” he says with a growl.
“I told you I am not ready for commitments.”
He smiles wolfishly. “You are for this one. Or you wouldn’t have kissed me.”
I feel like I’ve been hustled in some way, and anger is edging out the bliss of my release.
He braces one hand against the wall above my head. “You wouldn’t have offered to breach this boundary tonight if you weren’t ready for the consequences because you know exactly the type of male I am.”
I push him back and slide out of the gap I created and try to storm away, but he grabs my wrist and yanks me back against him. Plunging his fingers into my hair, he fists it tightly, holding me where he wants me. “Don’t you dare pretend this isn’t something you want.”
“I am not committing to you. In any way,” I hiss.
He moves his hand from my hip and grips my chin. “Then why kiss me? Why do anything with me this weekend? Why give me a taste and then act like it’s nothing?”
“You?.?.?.” Fuck. “You were right. This was a mistake. A huge one.”
He scans my eyes, and then he releases me. “Do you care for me?” he asks, and there’s that vulnerability again.
“Stranger?.?.?.” I say, looking away, my need to not hurt him tamping down the anger a little.
“Do you?”
Does he deserve the truth after that shit he just pulled? No. Do I want to give it to him? No, and yet?.?.?.
“Yes,” I say, but it’s barely a whisper.
“This was never something to?.?.?. pass the time for me,” he says, and I watch in horror as he reapplies his glamour.
Even his lips change, and seeing him retreat has pain radiating through my chest. “I was willing not to do anything this weekend. To put it all aside so I could just be in your presence.”
I frown, looking at him as if he wasn’t the one who just begged me to let him make me come. “So it was all me?”
“I am helpless against you. I will take any fucking scrap you give me,” he snarls. “Even a look in my direction without that flicker of hatred.”
I shake my head, pain deafening me, but I am not sure if it is his or mine. “How could you?.?.?. ?” I look away. “Forget it.”
This time, when I leave, he doesn’t stop me.