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When the kiss slowed, he sat, pulling me into his lap, guiding my legs around his waist. He held me close, locking his arms around my back, and I held his face, our hips grinding gently as I spent a moment searching his eyes. And then I brought my lips to his.
For a long while, we kissed slowly, sweetly, until he guided me to lean back. Our eyes were on his cock, nestled between my pussy lips, as we rocked, his shaft slick with me. Remy grasped his base, guiding his tip to trace my wet slit, pressing with his thumb to dip it inside me, then use his glossy crown to circle and pat my clit before he’d dip inside again.
Inch by inch, he went deeper, my thighs hooked on his as he crawled to hover over me, his arm under the small of my back to keep my pussy where he could reach it, guiding the tip of his cock into me slow, our gaze locked. He was trembling, our lips almost touching, our breath mingling, his cock seated deep inside of me.
Our mouths brushed, our noses grazing as he pumped his hips slow. The tip of his tongue skimming my lips, then my tongue. He tightened his grip, grabbing me and taking me with him as he sat, my legs around his waist.
It was the perfect position to grind, and he looked up at me as I rolled my hips, his eyes hooded.
“I’ve never needed anyone before,” he said, his fingertips trailing my neck. “I’m glad it’s you.”
I kissed him, my arms slung over his shoulders as I rode him, his hands roaming my backside. One squeezed while the other reached under my thigh to touch the seam of our bodies until his fingers were slick, then slid those wet fingers back to my puckered hole and pressed.
I cried out, my hips speeding at the rush of contact, his finger knuckle deep inside of me.
“Don’t stop until you come, Duchess.”
“Fuck,” I breathed, my pussy flexing. I mewled when his finger curled.
His lips dragged my neck, his tongue trailing “I love the way you feel. I love the sounds you make when I’m inside you. That’s right, baby,” he said against my skin when I sped up, orgasm slipping over me. “You’re so tight, I can feel you come. I want to feel it, Jessa. Come on. That’s it.” He slapped my backside and I yelped, gasped, my body flexing. But when he closed his lips over my nipple and sucked, that was it.
I came with a cry torn from my throat, a shuddering, panting sound racked with the motion of my wild hips. The wave began to subside, but Remy wasn’t through with me, managing to pull out of me and flip me over. He grabbed me by the bend where my thighs met my hips, jacking my arse and pulling me to him.
“Spread your legs, Duchess.”
I did, panting.
“Good fucking girl,” he growled, pulling me onto his cock. And then he bore into me, fucking me so hard, the bed thumped against the wall. His cock stroked my G-spot, reviving my orgasm.
“Yes,” he hissed, swelling inside me. “Goddammit—you’re so fucking tight, I can’t...I can’t handle it.”
I writhed beneath him, the orgasm going on and on.
He groaned, our skin slapping until he buried himself as deep as he could get, held still, then sucked in a noisy breath as his hips pumped. Moaned long and deep until he was empty, still throbbing inside me. Hinged to press his torso to my back, burying his face in my hair. Swept it out of the way so he could get to my neck. Kissed and nuzzled and sucked my skin, his cock still pulsing inside me.
We lay like that for a long while as I tried to find my way back to my body. When he pulled out, he turned me over. Climbed up me. Kissed me. Then he watched me for a moment, and I watched him.
He brushed a lock of hair from my face.
“I’m glad it’s me too,” I said, smiling.
“Never thought it’d be a duchess, though.”
“I’m not a?—”
“Yeah, I know. But you are to me.”
“Perhaps I should come up with a name for you too.”
“How about Commander of Cunnilingus? Or Sultan of Slapass?”
I giggled.
“No, I’ve got it.”
I waited patiently.
“The Dictator. Get it? Dick-tator?”
