I bent down and licked her pussy, starting at her clit and ending at the small pucker I intended to bury myself in. She sucked in a breath as I flicked my tongue around, and she raised her ass up in the air mindlessly, unconsciously, her body begging for more.
She would get it. I used my finger to work the new oil in and out of her, as my other hand played over her cunt. The smell of crushed roses—the perfume of the oil—filled the room. Soon, her ass was so slick that it shone in the firelight, and I could tell the numbing effects of the oil were kicking in, because she was raising up against my finger even more now.
I added another finger, working her a bit more aggressively, watching her sex pulse with want. She was grinding her pussy into the pillow now, and I backed up to watch it, slathering the first oil on my dick as I did so. It was beautiful. A work of art. Her legs spread, her head down, tiny whimpers issuing from her mouth as she rubbed that needy cunt on the pillow, rubbed and rubbed, the whimpers growing louder.
I was fucking mesmerized. I had gone from lubricating myself to simply jacking off now, fisting my cock to the sight of her unabashed mindless need. God, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to fuck her or just watch her, but then her hand slid under her stomach to her clit, and my brain stopped engaging in that particular dilemma. I had to come inside her again and that was all
there was to it.
I lowered my body over hers, her ass pressing into my pelvis, and I began to bestow all the kisses I had promised myself I would earlier, letting my lips linger over the nape of her neck and in the delicate spot between her shoulder blades.
“I’m going to go slow,” I promised her. “I want you to feel good.”
She nodded, her eyes still closed, her fingers still working under her and then I positioned myself at her entrance. The oil did its job, because while she inhaled at my invasion, she didn’t wince or shudder. Instead, she stayed relaxed as I pushed in, moaning as my weight pressed her clit harder into her hand and the pillow.
I slowly sunk in, using one hand to gentle and stroke Ivy as I did. I wanted her to know how much I worshipped her. I wanted her to feel every inch of my need for her. I wanted her to come while I was so deep inside of her that she couldn’t tell where she ended and I began.
I slid out a little and then back in, burying myself as deeply as I could. She continued to moan and mewl and pant, and so I moved incrementally faster, my mind starting to fragment into single thoughts, staccato words.
Slick.
Wet.
Tight.
Jesus Christ, so fucking tight.
Ivy tensed underneath me, rocking her hips more and more and I knew she was about to come again.
“Come for me, kitten,” I said in her ear. “Let me feel it.”
She cried out and then I did feel it, the hot velvet of her clamping down around me.
Fuck.
Instead of thrusting harder, I wrapped my body around hers as she shivered her way through her climax, and I let her pulsing ass massage me into coming, the tension in my pelvis rising and rising, my body stoked into fire simply by being inside her. I didn’t even have to properly fuck this woman and she could still make me erupt, simply by being her.
I groaned as my release stabbed through my balls and then my cock and I shot into her, holding her as tightly as was humanly possible as I did, breathing against the back of her neck, one forearm under her breasts and the other under her stomach.
We lay like that for a long time, maybe hours, and when I finally rolled off of her, she was sleeping a pure, deep sleep that I couldn’t bear to disturb. Instead, I went and found a blanket and two more pillows, arranged a makeshift bed for us, and fell asleep, my body wrapped around hers once more.
I would dream about this night until my dying day, I knew. Nightmares of that terrifying moment his hand had closed over my throat and every latent fear of him had risen to the fore—and then dreams of bliss of the moment he had let go, and life-giving air had flooded into my lungs just as the most intense orgasm I’d ever felt had flooded through my body.
It had been so Julian. Dangerous and erotic and addictive and even as my eyes fluttered open to the weak rays of dawn and my thoughts flickered to my aunt, I wanted it again. I wanted it all again—the humiliation and the public fucking, the choking and then the sweet and gentle way he had made love to me in the end, all rose perfume and tender, infinitesimal movements.
But I would get to have it again, I realized as I opened my eyes all the way. We were reunited. We would be married. And nothing, not anything, could separate me from the man I loved again.
“You don’t have to wake up, wildcat,” Julian said. His voice was sleepy and rough, as though he’d just woken as well. “Let’s stay here forever.”
I snuggled into him, laying my head on his chest and listening to his steady heartbeat. He stroked my back in long, somnolent strokes. “Can we?” I asked, my eyelids already growing heavy.
“Yes,” he said. “Whatever my wildcat wishes, she shall have.”
“In that case, perhaps I wish that we were married. Today.”
I was seized into a tight grip, crushed against his muscled chest. “Then your wish is my command.”
I tilted my head back so I could look up at him. “And then we can go home?”
