Page 39 of Iron Roses

My mouth drops open, eyes fluttering shut. I groan—a raw, helpless sound—and push back on him instinctively, desperate for more.

He grips my hips harder. Thrusts again. My breath turns to panting gasps, echoing off the tile, each one syncopated with the wet slap of our bodies.

Water splashes, soaking the floor, sloshing over my thighs as his pace picks up. My breasts bounce softly beneath me, nipples brushing the cooling porcelain, but I barely feel it.

All I can feel is him.

The stretch. The heat. The way he fills me to the brink and doesn’t let me go. Each thrust is deeper, more claiming, driving me forward against the tub’s edge. My knees slide. My legs shake.

I try to brace, but he’s fucking me harder now, faster, breathless grunts vibrating in his chest as he leans over me again, mouth catching the nape of my neck.

His hand slides between my legs again, and the second his fingers find my clit, slick and swollen, I cry out.

The tension snaps.

My orgasm hits like a punch to the gut—violent, clenching, all-consuming. My pussy spasms around his cock, pulsing hardas he fucks me through it. My legs nearly give out, but he holds me in place, fucking me deeper, harder, until his breath hitches and his rhythm falters.

Then he slams in one final time, cock buried to the hilt, and I feel the hot pulse of him spilling inside me.

He pulls out of me, and the sensation is almost too much—his cock dragging wet and thick from my pussy, leaving me open, raw, throbbing. My body shudders. I can feel his cum already slipping out of me, warm and slick, sinking into the water around us.

I brace myself on shaking arms, panting hard, chest slick with sweat and steam. The porcelain under my palms is warm but cooling. My breasts sway with each shaky breath, nipples pebbling in the cooler air, tight and aching, brushing faintly against the tub’s curved edge.

Behind me, water shifts. He sinks down.

His hands spread me open, and the wet drag of his thumbs against my skin makes me jolt—too sensitive, too exposed. He holds me there anyway, and I feel the press of his face between my thighs a second before he plunges his head under the water.

His mouth closes over my pussy, and I choke on a moan.

The heat of it burns through the water, through me. His tongue licks into me with deep, searching strokes, almost reverent. I feel the soft, muscular flick of it as it drags through the wet mess he left behind, pushing it back into me, swirling it around my swollen entrance before plunging in again.

My legs shake. My thighs flex and tremble uncontrollably. My calves are cramping from the tension, knees scuffed red from the porcelain. The water rocks around us, small waves slapping against the side of the tub.

He moans into me—vibration hitting right against my clit—and I feel it echo all the way up my spine. My back arches. My skin prickles. I swear I can feel it in my nipples, in the curl of my toes, in my scalp. My whole body goes tight.

His tongue moves—lashing in tight, relentless circles around my clit, sucking, flicking, switching rhythms just as I start to chase one. My pussy clenches with each pass, begging, fluttering. His hands grip my hips hard, fingertips pressing into bone, keeping me still even as I writhe.

My breath won’t settle. My lungs are too tight. My arms are jelly but I can’t stop holding on, fingers slipping against the edge of the tub. The ache in my shoulders blooms, but it just mixes in with everything else—heat, pressure, the too-much-ness of it all.

My stomach tightens, muscles fluttering. My whole lower body pulses like it's begging to come. Sweat rolls down my ribs, collects at the crease of my hip. My nipples are so hard they ache, dragging against the tub with each shiver of my torso.

He lifts his head just long enough to inhale sharply—his breath brushing wet heat over my inner thigh—then he dives back in, tongue stiff. He fucks me with it, pushes inside my cunt deep and steady, then pulls out and drags it flat all the way to my clit.

That’s what shatters me.

My orgasm tears through my body like lightning lashing across a storm—my pussy clenching hard, spasming around nothing, my thighs snapping together around his head even as my body tries to pull away.

I cry out, mouth open, throat raw. I don’t hear myself. I only hear the rush of blood in my ears, the splash of water, the greedy sounds of him devouring me as I break.

Every muscle seizes. My calves lock. My stomach hollows, then convulses. My breasts are aching, nipples flushed and tight, bouncing with every spasm. My arms finally give out and I slide forward, forehead resting against the tub, every breath a gasp.

Still he licks me. Gentle now. Lingering.

Like he’s not done tasting what he’s taken from me.

And I’m still shaking.

I’m still bent over, catching my breath in shallow gasps, my skin flushed and trembling, when the water shifts beside me—soft at first, like a ripple with no source.

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