Chapter 33 #2
I was losing it. Every breath was a prayer. Every nerve was tuned to her . And then she leaned in, her mouth close to my ear, and whispered: “Be good and come for me, Fitz.” She licked the crown of my dick, pushing her tongue into the slit, and I broke.
I exploded—my cock jerking in her fist, orgasm tearing through me so hard I had to bite down on my own hand to keep from screaming, my body locking around her finger, coming harder than I ever had in my life.
Hot pulses spilled over her hand, my stomach, the sheets, as she kept stroking me, coaxing every last drop while her finger curled inside me, slow and sweet .
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Just lay there, gasping, shaking, ruined .
She kissed my jaw. My chest. Pulled her finger free with unbearable tenderness. And then she whispered against my skin—“You’re mine now.”
Just as I was about to die happy in my blissed-out, fully wrecked state, she moved.
But not down.
Up.
She crawled up my body, bare and glistening, knees dragging across the sheets until she was straddling my chest—then my collarbones—then pivoted fully around to face my body, her knees sliding on either side of my face, cunt dripping just above my mouth as she leaned forward , one hand braced on my abs, the other reaching for my cock.
I stared up at her ass, that perfect curve, her pussy inches from my face—slick, flushed, insistent—and I groaned, already knowing I wasn’t coming out of this alive.
“Lick me,” she said, her voice low, steady, the command coiled in velvet.
I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed her thighs and pulled her down to my mouth, tongue parting her folds, lapping up everything she gave me. She moaned as she started grinding her hips into my face like I was her personal toy.
And then— fuck —she bent forward and picked up my cock.
It was still mostly hard, my balls deliciously light from their release.
A pool of cum had pooled on my stomach, warm and wet, and she dipped her fingers in it—like it was frosting—and brought it to the tip of my cock, rubbing in small, slow, torturous circles.
I whimpered against her pussy .
“Still sensitive?” she asked sweetly, her mouth so close I could feel her breath ghost over the head of my dick.
“ So sensitive,” I gasped, tongue dragging through her folds again. “Charlie—fuck— please . I can’t—give me a few minutes and I’ll be hard for you again,” I pleaded.
“No baby,” she purred, dragging her slick fingers down the underside of my cock in a maddening tease. “That’s the point. You’re going to stay hard until I say you’re done.”
I moaned helplessly into her cunt, my mouth soaked with her arousal, my tongue working furiously to keep up with the rhythm she was grinding down against my face.
“And you’ll be done,” she said sweetly, dragging her thumb across the head of my cock again in slow, shimmering circles, “when I’m done.
” Her hips rolled—once, twice—while she leaned forward, her hand wrapped around my shaft, her other resting light on my thigh like a tether.
I was gone . Every nerve in my body was lit.
Every muscle strung tight with the need to come again, to collapse, to fucking give in .
But she wasn’t finished. “So let’s see,” she said, voice breathy but firm, “how magical your tongue can be tonight.”
I groaned. “Charlie—fuck—I’ll eat you all night but I’m not sure my dick can take you playing with it right now. I just came so hard.”
“And you’ll give me a bit more. Now hush and lick me.”
I wrapped my arms around her thighs and pulled her down, burying my face in her, tongue flicking against her clit, mouth sucking and lapping like it was the only thing that could save me from the divine hell she was putting me through.
She moaned and rocked against me, her hand never stopping its slow, maddening torture. Her palm slid slick over my tip rubbing in wet relentless circles, milking me without mercy. I twitched. I gasped. I sobbed into her pussy.
And she laughed—soft and dark and glorious—as she raked her nails up my thigh and said:
“That’s it, baby. Be good. Keep licking. I want to come on your face while your cock spills for me again.”
So I did. I licked her like a man possessed, like I’d never tasted anything sweeter, like her pleasure was the only god I’d ever worship. Because it was .
She was riding my mouth like it was her throne—sensual at first, then more frantic, her thighs trembling against my cheeks as my tongue worked her clit in tight, wet circles.
I flattened it, dragged it down, fucked her with it until her breath hitched and her moans turned into broken little whimpers.
“Fuck—Fitz—oh my god—don’t stop—don’t you dare fucking stop?—”
I gripped her thighs tighter, pulling her down, burying my face deeper, letting her grind and shake and use me.
Her hips jerked once—twice— And then she broke .
Her thighs clamped around my face, her whole body seizing as her pussy clenched and pulsed against my tongue, riding wave after wave of orgasm.
I didn’t stop. Not until she moaned my name like a hymn and collapsed forward, trembling, her hand barely gripping my cock now, but still moving—just enough.
I twitched in her hand and then— fuck —a single pulse spilled from the tip, a warm, aching dribble of cum, just one last drop from a cock already spent and overstimulated, but still hard for her.
She laughed—breathy and fucked-out—pressing her forehead to the mattress beside me.
“I knew you could take it, Whitmore,” she whispered, voice wrecked and radiant. “Still had a little left for me.”
And I lay there under her— absolutely destroyed. And absolutely hers.