Page 105 of Intoxicated
“Look into my eyes when I come inside you, baby,”isn’t the kind of thing I used to find romantic, let alone hot, but it’s all I can think about as he settles between my legs and makes long, hard love to me. It’s not as frantic and determined as it was for the past half hour, but his stamina does not waver, nor does he slow down for the sake of catching his breath. Or maybe I don’t really notice, because I’m so enraptured by his flushed complexion that everything both slows and speeds up like we’re traveling through every timeline to ever exist.
“You finally ready for me?” Drew pushes himself up on his hands and stares right into my eyes. “Because I’ve been ready for you for like twenty minutes now.”
“Do it,” I dare him. Even in the most romantic of moments, I have to dare him. It’s in my blood.
He smothers me with one last kiss before I hear the relieving gasp in his throat and feel the surge of heat filling me up inside.
Drew never hesitates, like he never relents.
Is it weird that I don’t really notice the actual moment he comes? When everything slows down so much, I’m busy staring at the ripples in his muscles, the sweat dripping down his skin, and the crease in his face that displays his vulnerability to someone he loves. I’m only aware of howsoreI am because he finally slows down, taking a moment to rest inside of me as one last breath heaves from his lips.
The ache inside of me is temporarily sated. A kiss seals my intentions.
“I love coming inside you,” he mutters against my mouth. “It’s the best damn feeling in the world.”
“Physically?”
“I should hope emotionally, too.”
“Sorry, I’m stuck on the physical right now. Remember, I’m one-track-minded.”
Drew pulls out. I had hoped to spend a little more time together like that, but I also don’t mind letting my legs fall limp and sticking my fingers in the fluids spilling out of me. Drew is such an overachiever, but I’m pretty sure it’s mostly me down there. I was so wet when he first entered me, and now I’m like a dam that’s burst open after a torrential storm.
My fingers travel down my swollen clit. Drew is still stroking himself.
“Come again,” I purr, toes curling into the blankets. “Come on me and make me your slut once and for all.”
“I’d rather do one better.”
“You want me to suck you off?” Dare I dream about that fantasy coming true again? “Come all over my face or give me a pearl necklace?”
“I’d rather come inside you again.”
My legs are permanently stuck open, so… “What’s stopping you? I’m open for business all night, and you’re my only customer.”
“You know what I want.”
It takes me a moment. I’ll blame my orgasm-riddled brain. That and my body is so pussy-centric right now that I forget I told him I wanted all my holes possessed by angels and demons alike tonight.
My fingers continue to massage my sensitive pussy. I poke one finger inside and lick it before circling my clit again. Under Drew’s attentive gaze, half the shit inside of me slowly slides down my ass.
Eventually, I flip over, my wet ass in the air.
Pretty funny, isn’t it? He’s fucked my ass before, and we had the usual to-do over lube and careful, deliberate strokes to make sure it felt good on both sides. Oooh, not tonight. For some blessed reason, we’re so damn wet that he barely has to test me before the entire length of his cock is back inside of me.
It’s so fucking tight and satisfying that I have to hold back an instant orgasm. Not Drew, though. He just went nuts inside of my pussy. He’s going to take his time working his way back up to climax. In the meantime, I get what I wanted.
I don’t have the words – or the breath – to express it.
Not to you, anyway. Trust me when I say I use the last of my energy to tell Drew how hard to fuck because I know he’s afraid of hurting me. I ain’t afraid. I’ve got an arsenal of colorful language to make sure he finishes the job right. You’re not going to fuck my ass after everything we’ve been through andnotmake me feel like I’ve been through the wringer. The man I love knows how to fuck me good and hard. He doesn’t hold back. He can’t hold back. He’s so into me that he knows my cries are of pleasure and not pain. My languid moans are because my hand is on my clit and the last of the cum I’m holding inside of me runs down my leg and squirts on the bed. He’s right, I guess. I wanted to feel like his slut, and webothmade that happen.
He throws the language right back at me. Drew both tells me he loves me and calls me the dirtiest shit as he erupts one more time. In my ass, of all places.
We crumple on the bed together. I think I’ve finally tuckered him out. I know that if he tries to go at me again I might finally have to put one of my feet down.
“I only wish I weren’t such a stupid mortal,” he says with a labored breath. “I’d keep fucking you like you deserve.”
“It’s my own fault. I drained it all out of you.”
“I let you.”
Do we bicker? Do we cuddle? Do we gaze longingly into each other’s eyes and imagine some twisted future together? Or do we wait for some strength to return to our legs so we can take this to the shower?
If you know me, I love a good challenge. I elect we do it all. Again. And again.
Every damn day until we die of intoxication.
