Chapter 26 My Favorite Sound #2
My cheeks burn, but I don’t look away. I don’t want to. I want him to see exactly what he’s doing to me when my tank top wraps around my waist, heavy breasts exposed. My nipples are hard and eager for his mouth, his hands, anything that can satisfy the blood flow increasing there and below.
I lean back, letting him cup both breasts, massaging them gently, giving each one equal attention. His teeth take gentle nips, making me hiss in pleasure. But his tongue and lips gently flick and suck to soothe the mark.
I moan and whimper, willing myself to stop—to be quiet, allowing the dryer to drown out the sounds of our passion.
He pauses, looking up at me. “Now that is my new favorite sound.”
His tongue flicks out, taking my nipple into his mouth again. Fuck.
“Dom,” I gasp.
My eyes drift shut, surrendering. He drags my body to the dryer’s edge until my legs are wrapped around him, positioning my core perfectly against his length—hard and throbbing beneath the fabric.
It’s beautifully outlined, and I’m dizzy with need, fingers itching for his waistband.
The moment he slides me up, my clit brushes against the tip of his cock.
The friction ignites a storm between my thighs, making me gasp.
And as I slide down his shaft, my pussy purrs.
His mouth devours me—neck, collarbone, and nipples. I’ll proudly wear the marks he leaves like badges tomorrow. He has me dripping. I’m soaked for him. The fabric adds friction, which feels amazing against him.
He reaches down, and awe melts into heat that floods my veins as his nails contort before my eyes, lengthening into curved, sharp claws on his right hand. One single, possessive rip and the crotch of my leggings is ripped open. His claws retract as quickly as they appeared.
The air shifts around us, and he inhales it deeply—like he’s sensing his prey.
“Mine,” he snarls along with something incoherent as he stares at me spread bare in front of him for the first time.
I look down, seeing the arousal glistening on my inner thighs. My back arches, watching his fingers move the wet lace to the side and trace my entrance with restraint. And when he plunges a finger inside, we both moan, eyes locked on one another. He fingers me slowly, watching my mouth fall open.
He adds another finger, gripping my ass with his other hand as he fucks me with his fingers. A strangled sound escapes me once the heel of his hand massages my clit. My body moves with him, chasing pleasure that borders on pain because it still isn’t enough. I wonder if this is how I’ll die.
“D-Dom.” His name slips out on a broken sob.
Curling his fingers, the touch deepens, finding that sweet spot inside me.
A pressure builds that has my walls clenching and tightening around him.
Euphoric pleasure ripples through me like a current, curling my toes and pressing my heels against his back.
“Please,” I whisper, though I don’t know what I’m begging for. More? Everything? Him?
He answers me with a kiss, and I collapse into him. With his fingers inside of me, the thickness of his dick rubbing against me, I may pass out. Our tongues meet, exploring and teasing—and Dom swallows every whimper that escapes me like a greedy beast.
He gives me a final kiss, biting my lip. “Let go.”
And I do.
I scream—supporting myself on my arms as I ride his fingers, and his other hand quickly covers my mouth. Wet leggings, wet thong, sliding over my drenched pussy over his throbbing dick, dragging out my orgasm.
“Oh my—” I pant, as he pulls his hand away from my mouth. My body shakes as I squirt, and I let out a soft moan as wetness spreads on the front of his joggers. I’ve never done that before.
My jaw drops, my eyes flutter, and my head falls back, hips gently moving. Shit. I’m still coming. “I’m sor—”
“Get out of that pretty head of yours, Jasmira,” he purrs, rocking into me again, making sure to hit my clit in a slow, torturous rhythm.
It’s sensitive, but it feels delicious as he rides out my orgasm with me.
He kisses the corner of my lips. “Don’t ever apologize for how your body wants to cum for me. ”
I hold onto his shirt, my hips grinding against him. “Shhh, I got you. You did so good, baby.” He wipes the tear from my cheek. I guess orgasms can make me cry. Especially my first one in years that rips me open from the inside.
“So fucking good,” he growls, his voice is gravel against my ear. Each word is punctuated with a hot breath on my skin.
My fingers claw the machine, knuckles burning white with desperation. Something between a half-laugh-half-sob escapes my throat because he knows exactly what he’s unleashed in me.
Something in his expression shifts when he brings his fingers to his mouth and groans, licking them clean.
“Fuck, you taste perfect.”
Holy seven divine.
He adjusts himself, paying no mind to the evidence of what I’ve done to him.
His fingers brush my skin lightly, pulling my tank top straps up—but not before his mouth claims the freckle on my shoulder, teeth grazing the spot, and his lips brand my forehead.
I lean into it, into him, locking my arms around his body like I’m sinking and maybe I am. In him, in this, in us.
“You,” he says, sighing, “are everything I didn’t know I was waiting for.”