Chapter 49 Hutch
Hutch
She’s riding me like sin itself, and I’m letting her—barely. We’ve both already come, but I’m still hard inside her as she rides out her orgasm and I’m losing my goddamn mind.
She’s in reverse cowgirl, knees planted wide on either side of my thighs, her ass bouncing with every thrust, slick heat gripping me so tight I see fucking stars.
I watch, wide-eyed and breathless, as she takes me again and again—her body flushed, hair clinging to her back, her thighs trembling.
Every slide of her hips, every messy slap of skin, is a masterpiece.
“Jesus, Ginger,” I grit out, my palms brushing her hips. “You see what you’re doing to me?”
She doesn’t answer. Just lets out a low, broken moan and grinds down again, like she wants to bury me inside her forever.
And maybe she could. Maybe I’d fucking let her.
But then I see it—us. The slick mess where our bodies meet, where she’s soaked me. The proof of what we've been doing since putting the boys to bed hours ago.
It snaps something loose inside me.
“Off,” I growl, sitting up and gripping her waist. “Come here.”
She gasps when I haul her off me backward—her cunt fluttering around nothing, slick and swollen—and barely has time to blink before I lay flat and drag her up my chest.
She lets out a little yelp, then settles on her knees, her perfect ass perched above me.
“You’re gonna ride my face now,” I rasp. “From the back. Don’t think. Just give it to me.”
Her breath hitches, but I don’t wait. I pull her back until her knees bracket my head and her soaked pussy hovers above my mouth, ass arched and trembling, folds still leaking with both of us.
I don’t even breathe. Just grab her hips and yank her down.
And then I devour her.
The taste of her, of us, hits my tongue like lightning; hot, wet, messy. My cock throbs against my stomach as I lick up every inch, groaning deep in my chest, tongue working through her folds with slow, reverent drags. I lick into her like it’s my only purpose, moaning like I need this to live.
She tries to shift, hands gripping my thighs, hips rocking uncontrollably.
“Stay,” I pant. “Fuck, baby—stay right there. I need all of it.”
And she gives it to me.
Her body shakes over mine as I lick deeper, my nose pressed to her skin, tongue fucking into her like I’m claiming her. Like I need to taste how far inside her I’ve been. Every drop of us together. I want it all in my mouth.
“You wanna taste yourself with me?” I groan, chin soaked, lips raw. “You should. You really fucking should.”
She lets out a wrecked little sound, and I slide one hand from her hip, then swipe my fingers through the slick mess of us dripping down her slit, before bringing them to her lips.
“Here,” I rasp. “Open.”
She does. Eyes glazed, mouth parted and when she wraps her lips around my fingers and sucks, slow and filthy, my tongue stutters against her. I moan right into her cunt.
“That’s us,” I breathe.
She whimpers, trembling above me, then turns her head to meet my gaze, eyelids heavy, pupils blown, and murmurs against my fingers.
“I want you in my mouth while you’re still dripping out of me.”
Fuck.
I almost come again. And I’ve already emptied everything I had into her.
I moan into her cunt, tongue desperate, my chin soaked, her words searing into my chest. She’s ruining me. Ruining me. And I’ll let her—every fucking time.
She slides off me, collapsing onto the sheets beside my wrecked body.
I’m panting, half-soft, twitching from aftershocks, brain completely offline.
She rolls toward me and pushes up on one elbow, then onto her knees. She drags her mouth down my stomach before curling one hand around my soft cock, still wet from her, and takes me into her mouth like it’s the most natural fucking thing in the world.
Slow. Careful. Devoted.
Cleaning me up like she needs me in her mouth one more time.
I groan, hand fisting the sheets. “Ginger…holy shit.”
She looks up at me, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes locked on mine, and swallows me down again, gentle but filthy.
And I’m fucking gone.
Completely, absolutely, hopelessly hers.
I can’t take it.
Can’t let her kneel there like that, her mouth still on me, all softness and ruin and fucking devotion.
I reach for her, cupping her jaw, my thumb swiping the corner of her mouth, and tug her up toward me, slow but insistent.
She crawls up my body, warm and flushed, her breath shallow against my skin. I don’t wait. Don’t care that my mouth is still wet from her, that hers tastes like both of us.
I kiss her. Long. Deep. Unapologetically filthy.
I lick into her mouth like I’m starving, like I need to know she’s tasted me, and I can taste her, and we’re tangled up in all the same mess. I groan when she kisses me back just as deep, her fingers curling in my hair, tongue stroking mine like she knows I need this part too.
Not just the heat, but the connection; the claim. Like she’s saying I’m hers without needing a single goddamn word.