He took me at my word, and I arched backwards, mouth agape, as he slipped his two fingers into me. He crooked them over, pressing on the wall of my pussy, and I clawed at his hand as I cried out. I felt him shifting, I felt him move my hand, I drew breath to protest, and then I froze, locked in place, as I felt his tongue on me.
“Oh… god…” I wailed.
He was slow. He was languid. He concentrated on the nub of nerves at the base of my clit with the utter tip of his tongue, and the warmth of his breath flowing over my lips and crotch was exquisite. I whimpered, moaned as he stroked his fingers in and out of me in time with my own panting breaths. I vaguely heard the groan he gave as I tangled my fingers in his hair, holding him to me, grinding on him. I burned. I ached, my pussy cramping with need for more, dying a little bit in side as my orgasm built slower than a life age of the world. Every few breaths he teased a fingertip in and out of me, or spread his fingers in me to stretch my lips and entrance on him, and it made me buck, cry, almost out of control.
“Connor… please… please… fuck me…”
“No.”
“Please… put… your cock…”
“No.”
“I’m… begging…” I cried out, feeling myself spasm.
He ignored me, kept the slow rhythm of his tongue and the pressure of his fingers deep in me, heedless of my wailing entreaties.
I was close. I was so close. And he knew it. He knew he had me.
“Connor… oh god… oh god… oh fuck… Connor… don’t… stop… please… I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”
I felt him take my clit between his lips.
I felt him suck on me and press his digits hard into me. I felt his knuckles against my labia.
I felt the world flow away and the walls of the room close in on me as I came.
I’m pretty sure I screamed.
.:.
Aftershocks. Aftershocks, a fair amount of pain, and the sensation of his fingers in my still-spasming pussy as I slowly came back to myself.
Connor smiled down at me, looking insufferably pleased with himself.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” I panted. “Holy mother of god, what you just did to me must be illegal.”
“Are you OK?”
“No,” I whimpered. “No, I’ll likely never walk again. I’ve turned to putty.” I cried out as he slipped his fingers out of me, then rolled into him and clung to him as I shuddered.
“You are amazing,” he breathed.
I pulled him down to me and kissed him, loving the taste of me on his lips. I ground myself against him, wriggling, feeling the panting breaths we both drew. Then I released him, and let him gather me into his arms again.
“Oh my god,” I whispered into his neck. “Oh my god, I’ve never had it that good.”
“You’re amazing for my ego.”
“You’re great for my libido and my pussy loves you. Get your shirt off. I’m naked, you should be too.” I started undoing the buttons of his shirt, then got distracted by his chest. He shivered; took a quick breath as I slowly ran my fingers down his sternum.
“Shirt off,” I demanded, and he complied, wriggling out of it and letting it crumple onto the floor. I rolled into him, groaning as I felt his chest hair against my tingling nipples. I kissed him, and kissed him again. Then, grinning, I trailed my hand downwards. Connor’s own breath caught in his throat as I stroked my index finger along the hard bulge of his cock. He lifted a knee, I fumbled at his zipper, and he groaned as I managed to get my hands into his pants. I squeezed him gently, loving the hard heat of him, then withdrew my hand and stared up at him.
“Strip for me. I want you nude here beside me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Connor,” I murmured, nothing more, and with a small smile he undid his belt and, with my giggling help, slipped his pants and underwear down and off. The muffled clink as his belt hit the floor made me giggle again.
“Sorry,” I whispered. “I feel like a naughty catholic schoolgirl.”
“Mm. My darkest fantasies, answered,” he deadpanned. I laughed, then reached down to cup him, enjoying the way he hissed for breath as I squeezed and stroked his shaft. He felt amazing. Perfect. Hard. I needed him.
I lifted my leg and let it rest on him, his cock throbbing against my inner thigh.
“Ceri,” he breathed.
“Yeah?”
“I want you, more than anything.”
“Describe what you want to do,” I whimpered, grinding against him, pushing myself closer to him.
“I want…”
“Tell me.”
“I want to pull you onto me. I want to nestle myself against you. I want you so wet, so aching, that I can push into you and bottom out in one stroke. I want to make you come as I enter you, and I want you to come so hard you forget everything else but being here with me.”
“I already am that wet and aching, and I forgot everything else the firs time you touched me,” I moaned. “Connor… don’t you get it? I’ve leaped. I’ve fallen. I’m yours. Totally, utterly, irreversibly yours. You can do what you want to me. Whatever you want.”
“Will you let me make love to you?”
I didn’t bother to answer. I just leaned into him, bit his neck, and from there stretched upwards so I could kiss along his jaw to his mouth. He groaned, pulled me against him, and I levered myself up and onto him. Almost without thinking, I straddled him, his cock nestled between my lips, his heat hot against me and my aching, soaked lips on him.
I moaned as he shifted, sliding his rod along me.
“Ceri,” he groaned, “Ceri, you’re making it so hard to be good.”
“I don’t want good,” I cried out, frustrated. “Stop being a fucking white knight, Connor! I’m wet, I’m horny, I’m aching and I want your fucking cock in me!”
“Last… chance…” he gasped.
“I don’t want a last chance, I want you…” I whispered, as I took control.
I shifted forward, sliding along his hard shaft. His head nestled into the slick vee of my lips; I reached down, grabbed him, pushed his head into my slit and then arched my back in ecstasy, unintelligible, as he surrendered to the inevitability of being with me, lifted his hips, and, groaning, entered me.