Page 60 of Bad At Love

Dutifully, she did. His breaths hit her trembling inner thighs and then her damp folds. Anticipation mounted, making a mess of her own breaths. There was nothing to do but hold on to the door.

The swipe of his tongue over her slit with a relishing sound at the back of his throat lit a fire through her. “Ready for me, baby?” he said, pumping a finger in, then two.

“All evening,” she said, chasing his fingers with her entire pelvis.

One day, she’d beg him to go to sleep with his fingers inside her. Or maybe his cock, so that he could have her whenever he wanted a snack. Like in the middle of the night. The filthy thought and the utter trust that he’d be into it just as much made her pussy clench and release eagerly.

“Fuck, Char, you’re dripping. Whatever just went through your head, hold onto that.”

“It’s another filthy fantasy just for us.”

“No more complaints about it hurting, then. You’ll take it like a good girl? See me off properly?”

Fantasy and reality merged, her body and her heart both stuttering at his hands and words. “Yes. Whatever you want from me, DP. Make me remember.”

Whiplash claimed her senses as he kept the pad of his tongue at her clit, all the while plunging his fingers relentlessly. When he added a third one and hooked it inside of her, the tight coil of tension that had been building all evening snapped and she came with a panting, broken moan. Somehow, she muffled most of it against the door. The aftershocks of her orgasm went on forever as DP kept licking her sensitive clit.

She held on to the door as he shot to his feet. Even in that jelly-kneed state, she could appreciate his thoughtfulness in drenching her pussy in lube. He kept one hand on her shoulder and the other stroked down her breasts and belly and her hips, inflaming her all over again. His fingers played with her nipples, rolling and pinching, tuning her up. “I can’t hold on much longer.”

“I’m always ready for you.” The words were a serrated whisper, an entreaty and a promise.

He probed her entrance with the head of his cock and she dug her teeth into his arm to keep her whimper inside. With his forearm against her chest holding her still for him, he thrust into her in one powerful motion. Shoving her upward against the door.

She threw her head back against his shoulder with a rattling moan, feeling the burn and clenching down on his thick length, anyway.

“Christ, you clench me like you were made for me,” he said, his fingers squeezing her flesh with a possessiveness that was like fuel to her flame.

And then there was no stopping the beast after that.Her beast.

His hips bore her down into the door as DP pounded into her. With fast, shallow strokes. And just when she caught the rhythm and waited for it, he switched it up to deep, slow strokes that made her beg him to go fast again.

On and on, he tormented her, and the feverish, greedy need to come coalesced in her pussy again. Mouth open against the wood, she moaned and writhed.

“Rub your clit,” DP said, his breath pumping in uneven rhythm. “Get yourself off.”

“I can’t,” she whimpered, even as she wanted to.

“You can, baby girl. Pinch it, rub it. Do whatever you need to. But I’m not going over without you, Char. Not this time. Not this last time,” he said, quickening his thrusts again.

And there it was, the nail in the coffin that she’d been dreading. This wouldn’t be the last time, she vowed to herself, but the desperation and the urgency and the need were all there.

Two months, she’d have to go two long months without seeing him. Without touching and kissing him. Without knowing his utter possession.

Without being his.

Chaaru found her clit and pinched it between her fingers, just as DP scissored his own around her nipple. His thrusts and his touch and his lips got rougher and firmer, his words when he spoke full of that stern warning she loved so much. “Come for me, sweetheart. Milk my cock. Give me this, Char, and next time, I’ll let you sit on my face and wring out every inch of that sweet, salty musk.”

His filthy words and his fervent promises pushed her that last inch. His teeth sinking into her pulse plunged her deep all over again. Her orgasm was small but fiery, wrecking her sensitive clit, and it toppled him towards his own.

He came with a growl that shivered down her spine, his hips lifting her off her feet and pinning her to the door. Chaaru squeezed him as if she could hold him there forever. Her heart thrashed in her chest, begging her, urging her to say the words.

But she couldn’t. No, she wouldn’t.

She wouldn’t let her need for him, her love for him, become another shackle just when he was doing something for himself.

Only when he returned, when he saw the resolve in her eyes, when he understood that she wasn’t clouded by damn good sex or fear of losing him would he see that she’d fallen in love with him.

That she was his, just as he had been hers, for so long.

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