Seeing her on her knees in front of me was something I’d fantasized about more times than I could count, but the reality was so much better. She was relentless, and I realized she was on a mission to wreck me as thoroughly as I’d wrecked her. I let her, for a blissed-out minute, until the pressure built way too fast, and I pulled her up with a groan.
“Billie, stop. I need—” I panted, unable to finish the sentence.
She grinned, triumphant. “You need what?”
I walked her back to the couch, as much as I wanted to carry her, I knew with my back it still wasn’t a good idea. I kissed her with everything I had left, then laid her on the cushions and knelt between her legs. I hooked my fingers in her panties and peeled them off. I slid my hands up the insides of her thighs, spreading her open for me. She was glistening, and the sight of her like that nearly undid me. I bent down and kissed her pussy, soft at first, then harder, letting my tongue taste what my hands had teased before.
She cried out, clutching my hair, and I lost myself in her, licking and sucking until she was shuddering again, legs vibrating around my head.
I slid my fingers inside her, curling them against the spot that made her buck and gasp, as I flicked her clit with my tongue. She came again, louder this time, biting her bottom lip as she stifled a whimpering cry of pleasure. I watched her come apart for me and knew that she was mine.
As she recovered, I began to kiss every inch of her body, marking it as my territory. I wanted to brand her, to claim her, to make her only think of me whenever anyone else touched her.
If that made me a selfish asshole, I could live with that. When it came to Billie Bliss, that’s exactly what I was. Because no one could ever make her feel the way I did. No one would ever know her the way I did. No one would ever love her the way I did.
34
BILLIE
I was still dissolvingin the aftershocks of my second orgasm, a soft and helpless mess tangled in the couch cushions, when Adam started to kiss his way up my body. He took his time, as if he was memorizing the taste and texture of my skin, trailing little pecks and slow, featherlight kisses from the inside of my knee to the sensitive spot just below my hip.
He didn’t miss a patch, not even the ticklish part at the top of my thigh that always made me giggle when caught off guard like this. He grinned into my skin at that, then continued his journey across my stomach in a maddening zigzag, pausing at my belly button for a lazy circle of his tongue. The anticipation built and built, my body already over-sensitized and yet desperate for more, every nerve ending raw and electric.
By the time he reached my chest, I was actively arching up into him, practically whimpering. He lavished attention on first one breast and then the other, alternating between gentle sucking and firm, insistent licks that sent aftershocks rocketing to my core.
For a long, slow minute, it was just his mouth and my body, his tongue flicking and teasing, his teeth scraping lightly at mynipples until they peaked and ached. He squeezed, massaged, and when he pinched just right. I gasped a little too loudly and felt him smile against my skin.
His hands mapped the rest of me, fingers digging into my hips, thumbs stroking lazy circles on my ribs, as if he was determined to ground me to earth just when I was about to float away.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I moved my hands between us and wrapped my fingers around his straining shaft. He was rock hard, and the tip was slick with a drop of arousal. He grabbed my wrist and moved it from up above my head, then pressed his length against my inner thigh like a promise.
I watched as he reached down with the hand not holding me in place and gave himself an absent stroke and then lined up at my entrance. He was in control—he always was—but I could feel the anticipation running through him, the little shivers of restraint in his arms as he fought to go slow. He pressed in, just the tip, then backed out, nudged again, a rhythmic suggestion that drove me halfway wild before he’d even started.
My body clenched around nothing, greedy and impatient, and I bucked my hips, desperate for him. He groaned and, for a moment, dropped his forehead to mine, breathing me in as he cursed into my open mouth, “Fuck, you’re killing me.”
It was the second time he’d said that tonight. Did I really have the power to torture this man? Did he have any idea the torture he’d put me through all the years he’d been absent from my life?
I wrapped my legs around his waist and arched my back, tilting my hips up and using leverage to push him inside of me, but when he resisted, I froze and my legs fell down at his sides.
He released my arms immediately at my change in demeanor. “What’s wrong?”
“What about your back? I don’t want you to hurt your back.”
The grin of relief on his face felt like a promise, sealing my fate. “It’s fine. I’m fine. This is good for it.” He leaned down. “Consider it physical therapy,” he whispered against my neck as he slid inside of me in a forceful thrust, filling me completely. Inch by inch, the stretch of him made my eyes flutter closed.
The initial burn faded to a sweet fullness. When his hips met mine, and I had taken all of him, he held still. Both of us trembled until we adjusted to the new sensation. Then he pulled out, almost all the way, before pressing back in, slow and deliberate. Each thrust was more intense than the last, the pressure building again.
We kept moving together, every shift and angle finding something new to spark a fresh wave of pleasure. I felt another orgasm sneaking up, sharp and insistent, and I tightened my legs around his hips, urging him to go faster.
I thought I had nothing left to give, but my body was rallying. A whirl of pleasure was swirling in my core. I dug my nails into his upper arms, needing something to hold onto, and rocked my hips in time with him. He groaned again, low and helpless, and I felt the sound vibrate through both our chests as my inner walls pulsed around his meaty girth.
He responded to my body’s palpitations, driving in deeper, harder, faster as the couch protested with creaks. My back arched and I gasped his name.
I could feel myself getting close, my whole body contracting around him, and when he bit my earlobe and whispered, “Come for me,” I did, shattering again, only harder this time. I almost forgot to breathe as the world went white for a second.
Adam was right behind me, pounding into me through my aftershocks, his pace erratic and desperate. He shuddered, and then he buried himself deep and froze, body taut as a bowstring. I felt his release pulse inside me, and the intimacy of it made everything ache in the best possible way. He collapsed on top ofme, and I held him close as I ran my hands over his shoulders and through his hair. He nuzzled against my neck. “Is your back okay?”
He nodded, and I felt his cock jump inside of me. “Never better.”
