I don’t stop, but I need to change it up if I want to keep going.
“Lift up, love,” I whisper to her, briefly pulling out and putting my hand beneath her left cheek, rolling her until she’s on her side. I grab her leg, admiring the way her thigh muscles stand out and the flexibility in her joints as she limberly straightens her leg against my body. With my grip on her thigh, I slowly push myself in and out of her, sliding in even deeper than before. I’m hitting a sweet spot, and her mouth is falling open while her eyes pinch closed. She’s soft and aimless as my thrusts become quicker, and I’m reveling in the look of her beneath me.
I slip my hand down to her clit, so swollen, pink, and wet, and begging for my touch. Her body tenses and she lets out a shaking breath as I rub my finger around in taunting, teasing circles, light as air.
She begins to buck into me, wanting more pressure, wanting so badly to come on my dick and my hand. I give in because I’m bloody delirious for her pleasure and because my own thrusts are becoming sharper, quicker, my hips slamming into her at a rate that will make me expire sooner than later.
I can tell she’s close to coming. Her body is shaky with strain, her breaths short and quick. She gets this thing where her lower lip starts to tremble and she has to bite it, almost to the point of bleeding. I like to think it’s because she’s so overwhelmed and trying hard not to let go.
“Over,” I tell her, pulling out again and flipping her over on her stomach. “Hips up.” I scoop her arms underneath her stomach and pull her up until her firm, perky little ass is right in front of me. I wrap my hand around her waist, loving the sight of how small she looks against me, and position myself.
“This is one hell of a way to go through jet lag,” she says softly, her head down and her dark hair spilling forward over her face. I don’t want to let her hide. I reach forward and make a fist in her hair, pulling it back so her neck is arched, her face exposed.
“It’s the only cure,” I tell her, tugging back sharply.
She cries out in a breathy burst of pain and then moans. “Your cock is the cure for everything.”
With one hand pulling on her hair, I lean forward until my damp chest is pressed against her back, my dick so deep inside that we both suck in our breath. I slide one hand over her throat. I tighten my hold, choking her lightly, and put my lips to her ear. “How do I feel?” I whisper, licking up the rim.
Shivers erupt beneath me and I feel her throat moving against the palm of my hand. “Heaven sent,” she manages to say. “You feel heaven sent.” She swallows and I let up the pressure. “Now fuck me. Fuck me and make me come.”
I moan, never tiring of how direct she is, addicted to her own feverish hunger. I circle my hips, my fingers tightening around her neck and hair while my chest slides up and down against her skin. In turn she thrusts her arse back at me, and all thought and reason and sense of self are obscured by her satiny feel, the tight clench around my cock that threatens to take me to another world.
I am but an animal. I piston myself into her, over and over again, the headboard slamming against the wall. I can almost see us from above, me fucking her raw, deep from behind, my muscles flexing as I push in, fast, hard, our skin blistering from such wild need. She’s coming, and her pulse is racing into my palm, wild and delicate. The frenzied, high-pitched cries like she’s being obliterated in the most perverse way completely do me in.
I’m clutching her throat, her hair, and I’m coming. It’s like a sunrise deep inside. It shines right through you and leaves you hot, dizzy, and spent.
Jesus. I don’t even know where I am.
I collapse against her, gasping for breath, burying my face in hair that I already feel holds all my whispered words.