Just a Massage #2
And fuck, it’s doing two things: One, I’m like putty in his hands—seriously, he could do anything to me and I wouldn’t protest—and two…
I want to fuck him so badly. The more he touches me, the more I need. He moves to my inner thigh, his finger grazing the edge of my sensitive folds, and I nearly go feral.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. But is he sorry? Because I’m not.
But I also don’t want to cave first. Even though he’s driving me crazy, I remain still as he works his magic, his hands covering every inch of my body.
“You like that, love?” he murmurs, and I moan in response. I spread my legs a little wider, and hear his breath hitch. “Fuck, baby.”
I grin into the blankets, waggling my ass a little. He smacks it, and I yelp.
“Hey, you’re supposed to be relaxing me.” I look over my shoulder, liking the way his eyes are on my sex, not on me. His cock is straining in his shorts, looking like a snack.
“Are you not relaxed?” he asks, moving his eyes to mine, a sly smirk on his face. “Turn over.”
I do as he commands, arching my back slightly just for his benefit.
He sucks in a breath and shakes his head.
Oiling his hands, he starts at my temples and face, smoothing over muscles I didn’t even know held stress.
I let out another moan, closing my eyes as he continues, and I hear the low growl in his throat.
He moves to my chest, and his hands smooth over my tits before squeezing them. He keeps at this, sometimes including my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pinching them slightly before letting go.
“Fucking asshole,” I breathe, but there is no way I want him to stop.
Thank fuck he doesn’t. He keeps going, moving his hands over my stomach then my thighs. His upper body drapes over mine until my face is near his groin. I lean up, putting my mouth over his pants and blowing hot air on his straining bulge. This time, his growl is more like a moan.
“You’ll pay for that,” he says, low and deep. In a flash, my hands are secured by his knees holding them to the bed. His own hot breath cascades over my pussy, and I squirm in anxious delight, my face inches from his cock.
“No ulterior motives?” I ask, laughing.
“Quiet, you.”
Then his mouth is on me. I gasp as he swipes his tongue across me, before finding my most sensitive part and clamping on.
“Ashton,” I breathe, throwing my head back. I wish his pants were off. I want his cock in my mouth so bad. But in this position, I’m completely at his mercy, unable to reciprocate. So I close my eyes and welcome every sensation.
And goddamn, does he know what he’s doing. That man sucks and caresses with expert precision, tugging and pulling, nipping and licking. He makes a feast out of me, his mouth sliding over me like I’m his dessert and he refuses to waste one drop.
His finger finds my entrance, then another finger. All while his mouth clamps over my clit and he sucks in and out with featherlike touches. I dig my heels into the bed as he adds one more finger, his mouth increasing its suction as I feel my clit pulse and engorge.
The orgasm starts slow, tingling over my head, cascading over my body, making me lose my goddamn mind as he refuses to let go. The whole room vanishes as I lose all my senses. All I know is his mouth on my cunt and his body holding me in place, all while I unravel completely.
When I can’t take any more, he lifts off me, going for his dresser drawer. I’m spent, but not so much that I don’t crave his cock. I need his hardness between my legs, need to feel him drive into me. No mercy.
“Are you ready for this?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear as he lines himself up. “Because I don’t have it in me to be gentle.”
I tug at his back, pulling him toward me in response. The head of his cock presses against my entrance, sliding over my juices as if to tease me.
And just when I’m about to protest, he pushes all the way in, filling me as I gasp. I feel every inch of him, the way he hits my inner walls, how he throbs with each breath he takes.
Ashton clutches my body to his, wrapping himself around me so that I’m immobile. It’s a new kind of sensation, one that makes everything about this that much more intense. I wind my legs around him, clamping my knees shut against his ribs until he groans.
“Fuck, baby. I’m not going to keep this up with you squeezing me that way.”
“Don’t stop,” I beg, but unwilling to loosen my grip. It’s like we’re knotted together, connected beyond our limbs. If I could hold on to him forever, I would.
Forever.
Just for a second, intrusive thoughts threaten to steal my joy, rob me of this moment. I bat them away immediately, squeezing my eyes shut. But not before the tears escape, grabbing hold of my lashes.
Ashton tenses on top of me, his face buried in my neck as I will myself to stay with this.
When he comes, my own orgasm joins his. We breathe into each other for a moment, and when he looks down at me, I swipe at my eyes quickly then smile.
His expression softens, and he pulls me into him.
We say nothing about what we just did. How we’re running out of time. I’m not even sure what he’s feeling.
All I know is that lying in his arms as his breathing slows, I’ll probably miss this moment most of all. Not just his touch. Not even the way he makes me come undone. But the silence after, the way we fit in it.
The way it feels like maybe, for just one second, I belong to him … and he belongs to me.