Page 53 of Ezra
I consider the meaning behind her words. I’m aware she’s not about to go off and join the pro-bionic movement or step down from her place as a speaker for her father’s organization. She needs to stay, to rectify the damage done. It strikes me then that she doesn’t think the energy between us is wrong or forbidden. More importantly, I wouldn’t have cared if it was.
Lust is what fuels me. Trying to reason with my gratification drive is a waste of time. The way she squirms in my arms, her ass snug in my lap, her pussy wet and ready and in need of my touch, has my circuits so twisted I can hardly consider anything else.
But there’s a shift in my directive, and my desires. When I came in here, I wanted nothing more than to fuck her senseless. But now, it’s not about me. I want to focus on her. I want to bring her more pleasure than she’s ever known.Thatwill bring me satisfaction more than anything else.
I press into her pussy with my middle finger and find no resistance. She’s tight, and delightfully warm.
Katrina arches her back in response. “Yes,” she breathes, as though I’ve given her the relief she craves. “Oh, yes, Ezra...”
Hearing my name on her lips stimulates every part of me, from my motherboard to my mainframe. My biocomponent fluid begins cooling processes, and I ignore another temperature notification. My cock is initialized all on its own, uncomfortably straining my pants, and she’s not making it any easier by how she rubs her ass against it, pushing back against the gentle, slowpumping of my finger. When she seems comfortable, I insert a second.
When I graze her clit with my thumb, Katrina moans. Her lips remain parted.
I swirl and circle her clit with my thumb, triumph flowing through me as her soft gasps and keens become louder. Her thighs tremble. She grabs tight handfuls of my shirt, hips gyrating as I quicken the pace, determined to bring her there.
“Have you ever been touched like this, Katrina?” I whisper.
“No. No. Never.” Her breath heightens. “Oh, god, I’m so close...”
I focus on her G-spot, using my fingers to play her there while simultaneously tracing her clit in quickening circles. She’s clenched, tensing, right there on the edge.
“You’re going to come for me,” I command in a low growl. “All over my fingers. Not once. Not twice. As many times as it takes, until I’m satisfied you’ve had enough.”
“Holy shit, oh fuck, I’m coming—” Katrina’s moans turn to cries of delight. She shudders against my palm. I hold her steady and don’t stop, my fingers pistoning in and out of her pussy as she rides them through her first release.
She tries to clamp her legs shut, but I keep them open. “I’m not finished with you.”
I don’t let go of her, keeping her in my lap as I plunge my fingers into her again and again. When her second orgasm arrives, her lustful shouts fill the entire apartment.
“One more,” I implore. “Give me one more.”
“It’s so sensitive?—”
I withdraw my fingers to focus on her clit, using her own lubrication to bring her to the cusp of a third climax. When she’s nearly there, I deploy a favorite trick of mine. My fingers vibrate with a low hum.
Katrina’s eyes widen as she peers down. “What are you doing?—”
“Come,” I rumble against her ear, keeping her right where she is. “Let it happen.”
“Please, Ezra, I’ll scream?—”
“I don’t care if the entire city hears you. Let them know it’s better than anything you’ve ever had.Come.”
Katrina’s entire body pulsates. As she clenches and cries out, I drink in the sight of her lost in her ecstasy, admiring the light sheen of sweat glazed over her flushed skin.
She relaxes against me, almost limp in my arms, breathless as she gazes into my eyes. “Ezra...”
I slip my fingers into my mouth, tasting her sweet essence. Like the smoothies she’s often been eating. She stares at me in surprise.
“I’ve been wondering how you tasted.”
“You’re incredible.” She leans away, but not of her own volition. “I’m dizzy.”
Keeping her in my arms, I guide her to lie back on the bed, resting her head on pillows. “I’ll bring you some water.” I brush her bangs away from her glistening forehead and notice her legs. “You’re shaking.”
“I usually do, after I finish.” She looks away, embarrassed. “Thank you.”
Puzzled, I trace her cheek. The glow of my white irises casts a faint light upon her. “Why are you thanking me?”
