And then a few more times just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.
I’m boneless, trembling all over, sagging into the bed. My pulse skips so fast I’m not sure it’ll ever slow down again. He hums against my swollen clit, sending a shiver through my insides. Yeah, I’ve definitely never had this before. And now any man who has ever had the privilege of being between my thighs is officially being dubbed a slacker.
Did any of them ever really care whether I came or not? I’d flip back through my sexual conquests to see if I can remember them ever asking if I came, or if it was good for me—or, worse still, if I led them to believe I’d come—but I can’t. My brain isn’t working. I’m not sure my body is either now that I think about it.
I need my limbs to report in. My legs are still there, right? Grinding the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, I force my breathing to slow but my body isn’t listening to me. It’s completely focused on Justin and how he’s still nestled between my thighs with no sign of moving.
When he blows on my bare pussy, I whimper. As much as I’ve had from him, a mind-blowing, body-shattering, life-changing orgasm, possibly two back to back, I still don’t know for sure, it’s not enough. It’s just…not. I’ve tasted the forbidden fruit, and now I want the whole fucking orchard.
The idea of chaining him to my bed and making him my live-in sex slave appeals, but too many people would notice if he went missing. And at least a few of them would know where to come calling to find him.
I’ve had his tongue, and now the needy little bitch I am can’t wait another second to have his mondo dick inside me. I sink my fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp with my nails. I’m still numb from the waist down, other than my tingling toes. My heart’s thrashing around like a caged animal, and if Justin can’t hear it, he probably feels it. I feel its rhythm pulsating everywhere.
When he retracts his hand, and his fingers dance along my swollen slit, it draws a guttural moan from me.
I lift my head a little so I can see him. He’s still lying between my legs like he has nowhere else to be in a hurry. Like his face isn’t soaked enough by my wetness. Like he hasn’t tasted enough of me. Without breaking eye contact, and with painstaking commitment to the task, he sucks his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean.
My entire being is on fire, and my pussy aches for him to touch me again. My cum is literally dripping from his chin, and he’s grinning at me like he’s just had the first plate from a Michelin starred menu. The hunger in his eyes tells me he’s nowhere near sated, that he needs more, too.
We both yank off the remainder of our clothes, and he slides up my body before hovering his mouth over mine. When his lips capture me, it’s not a slow kiss, not soft or tender. It’s demanding, it’s consuming, it’s possessive. It’s like now that we’ve broken the seal, neither of us can get enough. It’ll never be enough, not anymore.
I scratch at his—very firm and delectable—ass cheeks with my nails, and he leans into me more. I rock my hips against his as though I can guide his cock to where I need him to be while he has me pinned on the mattress.
“Tell me what you—”
“Get the fuck inside m—”
We both speak at the same time, but there’s no time to laugh about it because he’s already lined up at my entrance, stretching my lips around his erection.
“Protection?”
“I’m on the pill.”
“My last physical was clear.”
Fuck. I often forget that birth control sometimes isn’t enough. There are other things than pregnancy to protect against. “I haven’t been tested…but…” My face heats like a solar flare. “It’s been a while.” Hence the forgetting.
He cradles my head like it’s precious, slides my hair back from my face, and presses a kiss to my forehead. That small act has my body at odds with itself. Part of me wants to cry from the tenderness of the moment, but the louder, more demanding part needs him to get the fuck inside me.
“I’m going to take it slow, okay?” He dots another kiss on my face as I breathe him in. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I can’t say I’ve ever tried putting a pop can in my cooter, but I know it’s going to pinch.
Nodding, I say okay and hold my breath as he navigates his tip inside me. That’s not so bad, I can totally take that. I let some of the air I’ve been holding escape on a slow sigh.
“I know you’re soaking, pretty girl. But if this hurts, or we need more lubrication, I need you to tell me, okay?”
I’m so focused on trying to stay relaxed so my pussy doesn’t cock-block his entry that I don’t answer. I know most women say size matters, and others say it’s not the size so much as what you do with it, but I’m sure there’s a point at which guys get self-conscious about the size of their member, too. I’m gonna guess that super-schlong here has given Justin some issues over the years, and I really don’t want to make him feel any more uncomfortable than he might already be.
“Savannah?”
“Okay.” I meet his eyes and nod again. “It’s all right Justin.” I dig my nails deeper into his ass cheeks, as tight as it is, it’s not enough. Even with the sting of being stretched around him, I need more. I’m being teased with just the tip, but I know if we go too fast we’ll both get more than we bargained for.
He eases another inch or so inside me, hooking his hand around my knee and using me to help steady himself and guide himself in. His teeth are clenched, and beads of sweat trickle down his forehead.
“So fucking tight.” He pulls back an inch, pushes in two more as I stretch around him with a blissful sting. His expression doesn’t suggest pain, but his features are strained. His self-control is admirable. I can’t imagine how much restraint it’s taking for himnotto sink all the way into me on one thrust.
It’s not a quick process, and I appreciate the fact he didn’t ram right in and start pounding. I’m 100% sure I’d have had friction burns and probably pussy bruises. They’re a thing, right? Dudes with huge dicks can leave bruises? Justin’s lightsaber could definitely bruise my lady garden.
