Page 78 of Son of a Witch

She smiled as she slid her hand between our bodies, finding my length burning into her palm, pumping me once and holding her breath, waiting for my response. I groaned my appreciation, and she pumped me harder.

“Fuck, that feels good, Supergal.” Thank God I had feeling there.

Pleased, she leaned down, and swirled her tongue over my crown, lapping at my precum. “You taste so sweet, my Candyguy. Like sugar and everything bad for me.”

I laughed at her cute analogy and sexy, dirty talk.

With a steamy moan, she took me into her mouth, all the way to the back of her throat. She pulled back and greedily sucked my cock into her hot, slick opening.

I went to lean forward as I always did and rub her back with one hand and grip her hair with the other. My back protested and didn’t move. Fuck. Limited movement.

I sighed and cast my head down as my big guy deflated at rocket speed.

Supergal didn’t give up, crawling back over my lap, playing with my cock as she nuzzled my neck, kissing it softly. Instead of throwing my head back like I usually did, I stiffened at my softening cock.

No. No. Fucking God no!

Astra didn’t let that deter her, and she sucked on my Adam’s apple, seeking the long groan I normally gave her. While she tongued the hard lump on my throat, I didn’t make a sound, willing the blood back to my dick. Moving on, her lips roamed my neck, lapping at the soft flesh, her palm coaxing my dick back to life.

I splayed my hands on her lower back.

“What’s wrong? Are you not into this?” she whispered against my neck.

“I’m into it.” I laughed nervously. Ashamed of not being able to come through for her. “I don’t think he is.”

“Want me to stop?” she whispered between kisses and massages of my limp shaft.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That failed too. My head spun with too many emotions. Humiliation. Deflated pride. Wound ego. Apprehension that I might never be able to pleasure my woman.

When I didn’t reply, because the words lodged in my throat, she slid her hand along my flaccid length, reaffirming my failure.

“I can’t…” I pushed her hand away. “I can’t do this.”

“Tor, relax.” She stroked my chest, trying to make me loosen up, since my upper half tensed up with performance anxiety. “Don’t be worried about a thing. Let me pleasure you.”

When she tried again, and I failed, I gripped her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Supergal. I can’t do it.” I leaned back from her, unable to meet her gaze.

“Yes, you can.” She rested her arms over my shoulders and gazed into my eyes. Shame burned dark and hot in them as it did in my chest. It tore her apart to see me like this. “The doctor said there’s nothing wrong with you in that department.”

We kissed for a moment, but it wasn’t our normal hot and heavy pash that went on for minutes, the curling and sucking on tongues we liked.

Her finger traced circles on my chest. “You’re putting too much pressure on yourself. Don’t worry if it doesn’t happen like normal. Let it happen spontaneously.”

She crouched beside me and massaged my shoulders, chasing the tension from them.

“That’s good, Supergal.”

“Good.” She smiled. Pure love. No judgment. This woman was a fucking angel. A saint. My salvation.

The encouragement in her eyes coaxed me and shame seeped from my limbs as she teased the stiffness from them. Let my pride and losing that function melt away. Let my worry about performance vanish to the back of my mind. Only let me just feel how good she made me feel.

“Yeah, like that, Supergal.” I kissed the shell of her ear as heat pooled in the junction between my legs.

“You’re so sexy, Tor.” She nipped at my shoulders. “All mine. All man. All everything.”

My dick came back with a vengeance, boxing against her pussy, wanting inside.

She lifted her legs and straddled me, gripped my cock, giving me a few pumps, then lowered herself onto me. “Fuck, Tor, you feel so good.”

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