Becca
Chapter 37
Becca
62 Days Dead
Stasi attempts to pull me into her arms, but I lean away. “It’s my turn.”
She smirks. “You’re right. Come sit that pretty pussy on my face.”
Instead of crawling up the bed, I pull out the clear bottle I’d stashed in my dresser—thankfully, it hadn’t expired despite being untouched, shout out to those on-campus safe sex advocates. Squeezing some into my hands, I hover over her and begin rubbing it over her stomach, loving how her softness gives under my fingers and the lights dig into her creating such beautiful shapes, framing every breathtaking detail of her body. When I reach her tits that are framed by glowing lights I wrapped specifically for this purpose, I take my time lubing them up.
Stasi groans deeply as I pay special attention to her nipples, playing with them until they’re hard and arching. Taking her hands in mine, I press them to either side of her chest, forcing her breasts together. “Dirty girl, are you going to ride my tits?”
I line up my cunt with her left breast and sink down onto her. A flood of arousal gushes out of me as my clit makes contact with her erect nipple.
“Does that feel so good? You’re so fucking slick. I think you like using me.” She shifts them up and down beneath me.
Shaking with pleasure, I guide my hips forward and back, gripping the headboard to give me more leverage so I can get more friction. “Fuck, your body was made for this.” Each brush of her hardened nipple over my clit urges me closer and closer to that sweet release that only she can give me.
“Yeah it was. Just for you, Baby,” she says, quite literally glowing beneath me with the lights bathing her in gold. Sprawled beneath me is my very own goddess of pleasure.
Her skin tastes of florals—pinky promises, and lifelong vows made at sleepovers.
Her kisses taste of citrus—blossoming trust despite past betrayals.
Her cunt tastes of berries—the fruitful reward after so much pain.
I never put much faith in religion, but maybe that was because they all got it wrong. Heaven isn’t a place, it’s a person. Everything about her is ecstasy, and she’s all mine.
“Stasi, oh shit,” I roll my hips forward at a quickening pace, chasing the heat building in my core. As the first shock of my orgasm hits me, I buckle forward, and she seizes the chance to suck at my tender breasts. With each stroke of her tongue, I crest over a new wave, shaking and whimpering and devolving into an absolute mess of spent desire.
“Untie me, Babygirl,” Stasi says with unusual patience.
With shaking hands, I unwrap the lights from around her arms. Once she’s free, she scoots me down, revealing the glistening release coating her chest. Before I can offer to wipe her down, she grabs her breast and brings it to her lips, her tongue lapping at the remaining wetness.
“Fuck,” I whimper in shock at the pure eroticism of the act. My pussy clenches, dripping desire onto her stomach as she does the same to the other.
“You taste so good, my dirty girl. You can come on me any time as long as I get to clean up.”
I nod eagerly before she captures my lips with hers. “You never cease to amaze me.” Twisting my hair around her fist, she tilts my head up toward her. “I’m proud of you for taking what you want from me.”
The validation is a tender caress on my anxious mind. “It was okay?”
“It was perfect. I love watching you take what you need.” Our mouths meet in a soft kiss. “But more than that, it’s everything to me that you understand what I want. Nobody’s ever cared about what I need.” A tear cascades down her cheek as she buries her face in my neck. This is not the undone I’d imagined her becoming when I tied her up, but this is something far more sacred, something I fear nobody else has ever seen. This openness, this realness, this is what I’ve been craving from her. I want to know her. I want her to lay out every guarded feeling she’s ever hid behind that wall of steel and I show her that it’s finally safe to open up those vulnerable parts of herself.
I unclasp the closure of my old necklace and loop it over her neck. These might have symbolized friendship when we were kids, but now this silver broken heart means so much more—a symbol of my undying devotion. “You’re mine, Anastasia Eden. Today. Tomorrow. Forever.”
“I’m yours.”
Unfortunately, one of the most romantic moments of my life is interrupted by my parents.