7. Skye #2
Pleasure coils tight and fast inside my belly, spreading outwards. My back presses deeper into the mattress.
Two thick fingers push inside me, entering my pussy walls with a delicious stretch.
They curl upwards, stroking that spot within me with perfect aim.
He fucks me in and out, so deep, in time to the pulses of his mouth on my clit.
It grows stronger, wetter, and filthy sounds fill the room as he devours me.
My thighs tremble where they drape over his shoulders.
"Hunter—" His name fractures on a moan.
"Let go, Skye. I want to taste every drop when you come on my tongue."
The release crashes through me like a bomb.
My back arches off the mattress, and a raw cry tears from my throat as waves slam through my body.
My inner walls clamp down, milking his fingers in pulsing spasms. He keeps licking, stroking, and working me through every shudder until I nudge his shoulders away.
He leaves a slow, open-mouthed kiss on my clit, then pulls back. His eyes are dark with hunger as he looks down at me sprawled and trembling on the bed. Fresh aftershocks ripple through my belly at the sight.
When he frees his erection, I’m still quaking. But the tremble is pure need now. It’s consuming me, entirely because of him.
"I’m not done with you yet." His voice is a low rumble. The sight of him fully bare and hard makes my pussy clench tight. His cock is thick and flushed, all controlled power and masculine beauty.
He settles between my spread thighs. The blunt pressure of his cock nudges my entrance hotly and insistently. My clit pulses in anticipation.
"Is this okay?" He braces above me on strong forearms, body caging mine completely. His forehead nearly touches mine.
"Yes." I wrap my legs around his hips, my heels digging into his ass. I pull him closer. "I want this. I want every inch of you inside me."
His thick head breaches my entrance, and he pushes in with one slow, deep thrust, stretching my walls wide.
He sinks deeper, filling me completely until his hips press against mine.
The stretch rides that perfect edge between too much and exquisite.
When he stills to let me adjust, his forehead rests on mine.
We share the same heated air. I’ve never felt less alone.
He gives me one more heartbeat. Then he starts to thrust deeply and steadily with claiming strokes that drag along every sensitive nerve inside me.
I meet him thrust for thrust. My nails dig into the hard muscle of his shoulders as pleasure builds again, fuller this time, more consuming.
Every slide of his thick cock rubs that spot that makes sparks burst behind my eyes.
"You feel so fucking good wrapped around me." His words brush hot against my throat as his hips snap harder. "Your tight, wet pussy was made for my cock. So perfect. So mine."
The praise floods warmth through my chest. His hand slides between our bodies, and his fingers find my swollen clit.
They circle it with firm, slick strokes while he drives into me.
The added sensation makes me cry out. He angles his hips and hits even deeper.
The new rhythm makes my vision blur at the edges.
Everything narrows to the wet slap of skin on skin and the relentless friction on my clit.
"Come for me." His rough voice strains with effort. "Let me feel you milk my cock when you come. I want to fill you while you fall apart."
The orgasm tears through me even harder than the first. My back arches as my inner walls clamp down around his thrusting cock in powerful pulses.
A broken cry rips from my throat as pleasure crashes over me in blinding waves.
He follows with a deep groan, hips stuttering.
His cock swells and pulses inside me as he spills hot and thick.
We ride the peak together, our bodies locked, shaking, and breathless.
We collapse together, all sweat-slicked limbs and ragged inhales. He rolls to his side and pulls me tight against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around me. One hand rests at the nape of my neck like I’m something precious. His other arm bands across my waist.
I’ve held everything together for so long that I forgot what it feels like to be held instead of doing the holding. His fingers stroke up and down my spine. The solid size of his warm skin surrounding me feels like shelter, safe and cherishing.
“How are you?" he asks, pressing a kiss to my temple.
"Good, so good." I trace patterns on his torso, following the lines of muscle. "That was..."
"Just the beginning." He tips my chin up and kisses me slowly and sweetly, then hands me the water bottle on the nightstand, watching as I drink. When I've had enough, he caps it and sets it aside.
"You don't have to take care of me," I say softly, even though I don't want him to stop.
"Yeah, I do." He tucks me closer against his side, one hand cradling the back of my head. "You let me see you break today. Then you let me catch you. That means I'm falling for you, and that means I’m keeping you."
The possessiveness in those words should scare me. Instead, it settles inside where his palm rests against my spine, like coming home.
"Okay," I whisper against his shoulder. "Fall for me. Keep me. I’ve already fallen."
His arms tighten around me, and I close my eyes and let sleep pull me under, wrapped in his warmth with the realization settling deep: I'm not doing this alone anymore.