Chapter 34 #3
He’s thick and fills my mouth beyond capacity, no matter how deeply I take him.
He groans darkly with each pull of my lips as they drag the length and my hand moves against him.
My hair has fallen in my face, but I feel his fingers pull it away, tangling deep into the waves and pulling them on top of my head.
Clearing my line of sight, and more importantly for him, giving him a view of me.
I can feel each twitch of him, each micromovement from gaze to stance, directive in a way I want more of him.
His eyes are unbreakable on mine, on what's happening.
“You are fucking perfect,” he says, surprisingly gentle through hard breaths as he moves a hand to cradle my jaw and brush the tears collecting in my eyes from the depth I continue to pull him into the back of my throat.
His breathing is picking up. “Louisa,” he putters out.
“I won’t last.” I can see him losing control, but even that won’t have him break his stare from mine.
“You’re good, you’re doing so good.” And with that, something unlocks in me, a moan from my core that seems to rattle him o deeply that he reaches to pull my head back, fingers tight in my hair to save me the mouthful of him.
But instead I grip my fingers into his bare ass and pull him as deeply into my throat as possible.
As I do, he releases every ounce of himself into my mouth.
Legs trembling as he does. But not letting a blink or orgasm prevent him from seeing my face.
I pull my mouth off him, and freeze. I don’t know what came over me, but as I sit here at his feet, mouth full of cum, he reaches for his undershirt from the floor.
Smiling and holding it beneath my chin as he squeezes my cheeks, forcing the spit into the t-shirt, as he uses the clean side of it to wipe anything remaining from my face.
Mascara, sweat, cum from my lips. All mingled together into this previously flawlessly white shirt, he tosses to the side of the bed.
He kicks off his shoes and removes his pants, and his hands find mine and pull me to my feet.
Leaning to kiss me with a softness and invitation for more.
His fingers are spread broadly across my back, pressing my front deepening into him.
My nipples are hard but buried somewhere in his chest I hope they never emerge from, not if it means I feel his breath the way I do.
I twine my arms around his neck, and in one fell swoop he palms my ass and spins us both around to land me flat on my back atop his bed.
He sits back on his knees, taking me in surrounded by the clean, simple bedding, as I look up at him wrapped in the dark of this room that was not preparing itself for this moment.
His body is rock hard, and like I have from the beginning, I wonder why the fuck a corporate attorney needs to look like this. (Besides for the goodness of humanity.) His hair is entirely disheveled now, and I know I look the same. Though, I’m not usually described as cheveled.
He loops his fingers into the bands of my underwear (which given the dress I was wearing really barely constitute as underwear at all), and he slips them down my legs. Dropping them to the side of the bed with all the other decisions we’ve made tonight.
We are both here so much more naturally than I’ve been able to experience before.
His hand rings around my ankle and slides it up my calf, lifting my leg gently, opening me up to him, as he places it on his shoulder.
Palming my breast, he drags his hand down the channel of my breasts, past my belly button, and uses his middle finger to split my lips that are wet and waiting for him. (And he knows it.)
He dips his fingers inside of me as he uses his thumb to apply pressure and draw circles around what feels like every nerve ending in my body clustered into a single point.
My back bows from the bed, but he pushes me deep back into the comforter.
Sinking himself down to where I lose his gaze between my legs.
His dark hair, wet with sweat, his forehead glistening as he presses kisses to my inner thigh and he curls his fingers deep within me.
He brings my other leg across his shoulder and moves his mouth to me.
Sucking as he pumps his fingers deeper, and deeper, in a rhythm that feels practiced and perfected, but just for me.
My hands are grasping for something to hold on to, digging deeply into the covers around me, but the only thing I want to feel is him.
The taste of him is still on my tongue, and he’s repaying the favor as he slides a third finger inside of me, and I know, from memory, it’s to prepare for the thickness of him.
I knot my fingers in his thick hair, and while I have watched his heavy eyes monitor every breath I take, I press his mouth deeper into me.
Knowing that I’m on the edge of an orgasm I don’t want to let go of, and he would never ask me to.
Picking up speed, our bodies follow each other in a way of familiarity they learned from tension we exchanged long before right now.
The flashes of his face between my legs, devouring me, mixing with the frames of him standing in my doorway, sweat dripping and anger across his face.
And that’s what does it, pushing me into the deepest orgasm I’ve ever experienced.
That has my legs go limp around his neck, and I know he feels me tightening around his fingers.
The feeling of warmth overtaking my entire body, and despite being incredibly sated, as he was, with my hand still knotted in his hair, I yank him by the handful I have, hard, up towards me.
“Careful,” he says as he smiles into my kiss.
“I’m particular about my hair.” I just pull him closer, desperately, the joy in this, the laughter between us, never what I could have imagined being with him was like, even after the first time.
Our faces barely break apart as I reach hungrily for his cock, needy for it to replace the feeling of his fingers.
Sitting back, as if back in the starting position, with his bird’s-eye view of me sprawled across his bed, imprinting this image into his brain the way I am my heart.
Grabbing my hips and aligning us, he pulls me up from where I lay frozen and lost in the comforter.
My body feels near limp, but in his arms as he pulls me against his chest, I wrap my arm around his neck, and feel him large at my entrance.
I slowly sink down, and feel the immediate painful pleasure stretching and filling me with him.
With each slow rise, I take him deeper. Our bodies are joined, pulling apart only to slicken his cock to take more of him in with each rise.
Until I finally land all the way, and have him so deep and seated within me, I can’t immediately move.
He holds my face, his mouth dangerously close to mine, as his eyes drop to the space between us to see where we are joined.
And the face he makes when he looks up and reclaims mine is something I’ve only read about.
A level of desire I don't think I’ve heard described outside of fantasy.
“Look at you,” he says, as he drags his thumb across my swollen lip. “You’re such a good girl. My good girl.”
And I am undone. I feel myself begin to tighten around him just at the sound of his voice.
I begin to ride him ferociously, greedy for another orgasm, knowing now how much he wants me to have it.
His lips move across the length of my neck as we rhythmically pull pleasure from one another.
Every argument we’ve had channelled in the aggressive way we need each other, fighting for a level of personal rapture.
He can feel the moment I’m on the edge, and lays me flat on my back as he pushes deeper than I thought possible. Hair falling in my face, his tongue dives into my mouth and he drives himself home, deep within my core.
I yell out in a way that he catches with a smile against my lips. And I know he has met me in orgasmic bliss when the sputtered “fuuck” falls from his lips for no one but me to hear.
“Good thing your neighbor isn’t home,” I say, my breathing still shallow, the feeling of his body atop mine a pressure I will crave.
“She is, right here.” His voice is layered, full of the risk that he wanted to avoid. But one he clearly has set aside to worry about another time.