Chapter 48 – Azaria #4
“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered.
Quinton stilled. Just for a second. Then he breathed. Like the words hit deeper than they should’ve. He kissed me, one hand cupping the side of my face. His thumb brushed the corner of my lips like he wanted to keep them parted, keep the words coming.
“Turn over,” he murmured, voice like velvet worn thin by need.
I blinked, surprised. “What?”
“Just onto your side. Trust me.”
I did. Rolled slowly, lazily, onto my side. The blanket shifted with me, our legs still tangled. He followed, pressing in behind me, the heat of him wrapping around me like a second skin.
His hand slid under my thigh, lifting it slightly. His cock was hard again, pressing. I was still wet from the last time, still stretched, still aching for more.
He nudged forward, slowly, letting his cock slide through the slickness, not pushing in yet. Just teasing the sensitive nerves. Then, he pushed in.
The new angle made me gasp. His cock pressed against a spot inside me that made my toes curl instantly, hips rocking back into him without thought.
“Shit,” I breathed.
He groaned against my neck. His arm looped under my waist, anchoring me against his chest. His other hand slid up, cupping my breast and kneading gently.
He moved slowly. So achingly slow it felt like he was etching his name into me from the inside out. I pressed my forehead into the pillow, mouth falling open.
“You feel…” I couldn’t finish. Couldn’t find the words.
His hand squeezed my breast. His mouth brushed my shoulder.
“Say it,” he whispered.
“You feel so good,” I gasped. “So deep. I can feel you in every part of me.”
“Yeah?” His voice rasped low. “You like it like this?”
“Yes,” I pushed back against him. “I want you to keep going. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
His thrusts stayed slow, deep, and rhythmic. He rolled his hips, letting his length drag against every wet inch inside me before sinking back in again. Every stroke pulled a broken sound from me.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “Taking me so well like this. Fucked so sweet, so full. You’re perfect, Azaria.”
I moaned; his words poured through me like warm wine. My hand slid down between my thighs, fingers brushing where we were joined, slick, soaked, and hot. I pressed lightly to my clit and shivered. His cock pulsed inside me when I did that.
“You touching yourself?” he whispered, voice rough.
“Yes,” I breathed. “You feel so good I can’t stop. Gods, Quin…”
He groaned. His mouth found the curve of my neck, teeth grazing lightly.
His hips moved a little faster now, still deep, but more urgent. Still tender, but building. He shifted his angle slightly, his thigh between mine, and suddenly he was right there. Pressing into that sweet spot again. My body clenched hard around him, and he swore.
“Fuck—just like that,” he panted. “You’re squeezing me so tight—gods, Azaria?—”
“You’re perfect,” I whispered. “You’re so perfect.”
His thrusts faltered. He buried his face in my neck, arms wrapping tighter around me.
“Say it again,” he breathed.
“You’re perfect,” I whispered. “I love your body. The way you feel inside me. The way you fuck me. The way you hold me.”
He let out a low groan that rattled against my back, hips snapping once, twice, deeper. I could feel him pulsing again—he was close. And I was right there with him. I pushed harder against my clit, grinding back against him, breath coming short, eyes squeezed shut.
“Come with me,” he begged. “Please, baby, come with me.”
And I did.
It hit me like a wave. My whole body locked around him. I gasped his name, face buried in the pillow as pleasure tore through me in rolling aftershocks.
He followed, voice cracking as he spilled inside me again, holding me so tight I could barely breathe.
We lay tangled together, both trembling, both spent. He was still inside me. I didn’t want him to move.
“Don’t,” I whispered when I felt him shift.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured against my neck.
He adjusted us carefully, then pulled out slowly, and I felt the immediate aftermath, wet and messy.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Yeah. Just—“ I shifted slightly. “I need to… the bathroom.”
He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “Go. I’ll be here.”
I untangled myself reluctantly, every muscle protesting as I sat up. Gods, I was sore. In the best way.
I padded to the bathroom on unsteady legs, acutely aware of the mess between my thighs.
I cleaned up quickly, washed, used the toilet, and made myself presentable enough not to feel gross.
The water was cold but refreshing, and by the time I was done, I felt almost human again.
When I returned, he’d pulled the blanket back, waiting for me.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much.” I crawled back into bed, letting him pull me against his chest.
He wrapped around me immediately, putting one arm under my head, the other around my waist, legs tangling with mine.
“Sleep,” he said softly.
I was already drifting.
“Quin?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
His arms tightened. He pressed his mouth to the top of my head and held it there.
I let my eyes close.