Chapter 22
A White-Hot Endless Universe Of Us
I've had multiple orgasms before. Hell, Killian gave me multiple O's back in that apartment in Olbia.
But what he just did to me? That was beyond next level. That was…I don’t even know. Heaven? Nirvana? Another plane of existence?
I have never, ever, ever come that hard, that many times. I didn't know it was possible.
My entire being is utterly attuned to Killian Harris, to his body, to the emotions I can read on him like a book.
Five times?
He made me come five times.
And he still hasn't come, despite telling me he'd last thirty seconds.
I sucked him for longer than that.
His control is exquisite; I’ll tell you that much for free.
A thousand things batter and blast through my mind, a firehose of thoughts and needs and doubts and questions and demands. But all of that is eclipsed by one thing—the raw, all-consuming need to feel him come inside me.
To know the oneness of that union.
To be his; to make him mine.
I straddle his belly and lean over him, one hand braced on his chest as I reach down between my thighs to clutch his cock.
His hands, so big and so strong, come to my face and cup gently. "You're so lovely, Story. You take my breath away."
I push my face into his hands, kiss his palm. Notch him inside me, brows furrowed as his thick tip splits me open. "I love you," I breathe. I cover his mouth so he can't reply. "No. Shush. I told you, it's my turn."
Once he’s notched inside me, I hesitate like that, drawing it out. "Ready?"
He nods.
I hold his eyes and prepare myself. Now that I've come, I'm accustomed to his immense size.
I still take my time, though, because I want to savor every single moment of this.
I've dreamed of it for so many years, wanted it, craved it, needed it, fantasized about it.
I've had to wait and wait and wait, through years of longing and pining, through gunfights and death and injuries and recoveries.
No more waiting…
But no rushing.
He carves his hands over my shoulders and slides them down my arms, back up, down my sides, grips my hips and then cups my tits. "Story, fuck. I need to—"
I lean over him, crush my breasts between us, kiss him. "I know what you need. Just let me give it to you, baby. I’ve got you.”
His grip on my hips tightens. "I'm barely keeping it together."
I sit upright and then kneel tall, just the tip of him notched inside me. "Killy, my love." I roll my hips in wide circles, stirring his cock around, teasing him. "Say please."
"Please!"
"Beg me to fuck you."
"Please, Story. Please fuck me."
"Keep begging." I keep circling, keep just the tip of him inside me, torturing us both.
"Please, dear god please, baby. I'm fucking—I'm losing my mind. I need you. I need to come. I need…I need you, baby. Please." He isn’t exaggerating or playing around or telling me what I want to hear—his desperation is very real.
I'm alight with a fiery whirlwind of emotions—furious, all-consuming need; deep, ravenous, feral lust; a love so bright and so hot it's scorching my soul from the inside out.
I show it all to him. Let it all explode through me, unfiltered and unrestrained.
I slam down on him hard, fast, and without warning. He cries out, a loud and savage shout of shock and ecstasy. “Jesus, Story!" His hands rake up my back and skim back down, and then he grabs my ass and squeezes it. "Fuck, you feel…"
"Tell me!"
"Like heaven. Like home. I don't—I don’t fucking know." He sounds shaken. "Story, god. I need to—"
I lift, swirl my hips in wide circles around his cock-head again, and then slam down, just as hard. "You need what, baby?"
"I need to move."
I shake my head. "Oh no. No way. You got to make me come five times. You're gonna lay there and let me do what I want with you until I give you permission to move."
He grins. "Yes ma'am."
The unfeigned joy on his face is everything.
He's not threatened that I’ve taken over—he loves it.
He seizes my hips as I grind on him, pushing my hips back and forth to work him deeper and deeper, and I hunch forward as he fills me, splitting me apart with the insane girth of his cock.
He grips my ass cheeks in his hands and pulls them apart, and I take him deeper—we both groan again.
I'm only torturing myself. There's nothing I want more in this moment than to feel him let go, to feel him fill me. I know we have all the time we could ever want, but I refuse to rush this. Not when we've both waited so fucking long.
"Oh my fucking god, Killy," I breathe, shaking with the need to quit screwing around and just fuck my man to completion. "So fucking big."
"Gonna give me an ego problem, you keep telling me that."
"Good. A cock as magnificent as yours?" I lift to kneel tall, reach down and cup his balls, drag my fingers along his slick shaft. "You should have an ego problem."
He moans as I touch him. "Story, my fucking god. You're killing me. I'm so fucking close. It's taking all I’ve got to hold back." His voice is raw and shaking. "Please, honey. Have mercy. Please. Fuck me. Please fuck me. I'm begging you, Story. Please, please fuck me."
My grin is wild and feral. "I thought you'd never ask."
I collapse forward and hook my arms under his neck and nip his chin and then kiss his ear, keeping him buried as deep as he can go. And then I kiss him. Hard. All tongue and teeth, all savage need and unquenched fervor.
I nip his earlobe. Squeeze his cock with my vaginal muscles, and I get a grunt of surprise from him. “You can move now,” I tell him.
His answering snarl is the only possible response.
It's primal, a predator's growl. He snags my hair in his fist and jerks my head back, rough, demanding.
Takes my mouth in a hard, furious kiss. Keeps that grip on my hair, keeps kissing me like he'll die if he doesn't. And with his other hand, he grips my ass cheek, growling into my mouth as he drives his hips against mine in a small, questing thrust; I groan raggedly as a little burst of lightning sizzles through me.
He does it again, and the lightning is hotter, brighter.
A third time, harder. I whimper, now.
"Killy," I breathe. "Let go."
He shakes his head, panting and growling. "Can't."
"Why?"
"I'm…I'm fucking crazed, baby. I don't wanna hurt you."
“You won't." I roll my hips against him. "Killy?" I whisper in his ear.
“Yeah?"
"Ruin me."
He groans, grips both of my ass cheeks in his hands, and pulls me against him, and then relaxes back…pauses, and thrusts into me, once—hard.
"FUCK!" I cry. "YES!"
My involuntary response is the push he needed to totally let go.
He thrusts again, harder, and now our bodies meet with a wet squelch and a loud slap of skin on skin, and Killian's grunt of ecstatic exertion is hot in my ear. I push up to brace my hands on his chest, lean forward over him, breasts draped against his chest, and I sink backward, meet his thrust.
His grunt is soft, now, ragged and shaken. "Story!”
"Give it to me, baby," I whisper. "All of you. Let go. Come inside me. Fill me."
He grips the bend of my hips and drives into me, pulls back immediately, and gives me another hard thrust. "Oh god, Story. Oh god. Oh god."
"You're close?" I ask in a whisper.
"Yes, god yes. I’m so fucking close."
"Go, baby!" I sink back to impale myself on him, crying out shrill and wild as he meets me, pounding into me so hard and fast my whole body jerks forward. "Fuck yes, fuck yes, Killy. Don’t slow down, baby. Keep fucking me. Fuck me hard!"
"Like this?"
It's slow at first.
"No," I whimper. "Harder."
He increases the force of his thrusts. "This?"
We're moving together, now. I rock back to meet him, wailing as each thrust sends me higher, makes my core tighter, makes me quake and clench and spasm. "YES!" I cry. “More!"
"Ah fuck, baby," he pants, fucking harder, faster, and this time he doesn't pause but sets a savage, dominating rhythm, his heels drawn up, hands gripping my ass, hips pistoning with punishing perfection. "This is how you want it?"
He grips my ass and holds me in place, pulls me open for himself and ravages me with an onslaught of thrusts as fast and as hard as he possibly can, and I let my upper half collapse onto him and push my ass back and wail and weep with ecstasy as Killian finally, finally, relinquishes the last of his restraint.
"YES!" I scream. "Don't stop, Killy! Don't stop. Don’t ever stop fucking me—just—like—that!”
An orgasm detonates within me, all at once and without buildup or warning.
One second I'm taking the fucking of my life, and the next I'm flung to the farthest corner of heaven, white heat crashing through me, pulsations of glory shattering me from the inside out, and I take every one of Killian's mad, wild thrusts with a louder, sharper, more breathless scream, and each one takes me higher and then I can't even scream anymore, can't breathe, can’t cry, can only shake and take him and come, wave after wave after wave of orgasmic bliss tearing me apart and wrenching my soul open so Killy can pour his love into me.
At some point, his mouth finds mine and we don’t exactly kiss, but rather fuse our mouths and breathe and move madly together, and now I feel him reach the edge.
I feel his balls pulse and his cock throb, his muscles lock and his thrusts stutter.
I take over, push him down and ride him.
I fuck him, then. I take him for my own, take his orgasm.
Rip it out of him. Devour it. Bury it in the corners of my soul—the sounds, the beauty, the abandon, the wilding bliss, the mutual possession.
It triggers yet another of my own, but I don’t stop fucking him through it—I can't. I come around him and feel him go still and tense, and he shouts wordlessly, loud enough that my ears ring, and he arches off the bed, and I writhe on him, ride him, crush down onto his cock and take him as deep as he can go and roll my hips to take him and take him and take him.
Oh fuck yes—there it is: now he comes in me.
My world dissolves into a white-hot endless universe of us—his arms around me, his mouth on mine, trembling, my tears mingling with his, our shouts mingling, our breath coming in tandem ragged gasps.
I feel the first twitch of orgasm from him, and I crush him deeper and he gives a full-body spasm as his climax explodes out of him.
Cum floods me, hot and wet and thick, filling me, and he's coming and coming and coming—my pussy spasms and quakes and clenches, keeping him inside me as he regains the ability to move and resumes fucking me into blissed-out oblivion.
We move together until neither of us has anything left, and then I collapse forward onto him, gasping as raggedly as if I'd just competed in a 100m dash.
For a long time, he just holds me, panting, his arms iron bands around my middle. "My god," he gasps.
"I know."
He shakes his head. “No, Story. My god!”
I giggle. “Killy, I know."
His hands explore my body, then, in slow, hungry circuits, travel from shoulders to ass and back around. "My fucking god, Story. I feel like saying I love you isn't enough after that."
“Mmmm."
He laughs. "You good?"
I shake my head. "You ruined me."
"You told me to."
I reach up and pat his face blindly. "Yep. And you really, really did."
"So…you good?" I get the sense he's actually asking.
I lift on my elbows and squish his cheeks between my palms. "I have never been and could not possibly be any better than I am in this moment."
He relaxes. "Good." He tenses again. "I didn't hurt you?"
I giggle again. "God, no!”
"Thank god." I feel him relax again. "My eyes won't stay open."
I snuggle into him. "So let them close. I'm not crushing you?"
“God, no,” he echoes. “You’re perfect right there.”
"Then just hold me. We don’t have to go anywhere or do anything."
"Gotta clean you up." he tries and fails to rise.
I shake my head. "No. Let's just be messy. I don't care. I'm not moving."
He groans in relief. “Oh, thank god. I’m not sure I can move either.”
With him still inside me, his cum leaking out of me, his arms around me, his hands softly caressing my curves, I fall asleep on the man I love.