He switches to the other nipple, capturing it just as hungrily. His large hand comes up to knead the neglected breast,pinching and rolling the slick, throbbing peak he just left. My wrists, free now, fly to his hair, tugging desperately.
“Yes…god, just like that,” I moan, hips jerking against the hard muscle of his thigh. I’m soaking through my panties, pleasure swelling so much I feel like I might come just from his mouth on my tits.
When he pulls back, my nipples are swollen, shiny with his spit, aching and pulsing in time with my clit. I'm shaking, legs trembling, little moans slipping from my lips.
He drops to his knees then, the moonlight catching the sharp lines of his face as he looks up at me. His hands slide up my thighs, pushing the hem of my dress to my waist.
“Hold the dress up for me,” he orders, voice rough with hunger. “Higher. Let me see.”
My fingers tremble as I obey, bunching the fabric against my stomach. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties and drags them down my legs.
“Foot up.”
I lift one, then the other, and he tosses the scrap of lace aside. I’m completely bare to him now, slick and throbbing.
“Mm,” he murmurs. “Look at that pretty mess.”
I try to close my legs, suddenly shy under that intense stare, but he grips my hips and parts them wider, settling one of my trembling thighs over his broad shoulder.
“Lean back more, tesoro. Yes, like that. Arch your hips forward. Put that pretty pussy right against my mouth.” His hands slide down to cup my ass, tilting me exactly how he wants.
My legs part wider as I obey, knees shaking.
"Good girl," he praises, breath hot against my sensitive flesh.
I know exactly what obscene sight I make right now: dress rucked up, tits out, juices dripping down my thighs while a masked stranger kneels between my legs in a moonlit library. The shame only makes me wetter.
His mouth is on me in a heartbeat.
He flattens his tongue and drags it from my entrance up to my clit in one long stroke, gathering my wetness before he seals his lips around the throbbing bundle of nerves and sucks hard.
I cry out, hips jerking against his face.
He groans into my pussy like I'm the best thing he's ever tasted, the vibration shooting straight through me. His hands grip my ass, holding me steady as he works me with devastating skill.
"Oh god…fuck, please," I whimper, fingers digging into his hair. My thighs shake violently around his head.
He devours me like a man starved, sucking my folds, dipping his tongue inside me to fuck me with it, then returning to my clit with fresh hunger. My orgasm starts to build.
He pulls away then. Rises. He's towering over me, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
My legs are jelly, but he catches me, lifting me effortlessly.
My back hits the heavy oak table in the center of the room, ancient tomes shoved aside as he spreads me open.
He frees his cock with one hand, and I stare, jaw slack.
It's thick and heavy, the head already slick with pre-cum. I reach for it, but he catches my wrists again, pinning them above my head.
He notches the fat head against my entrance and pushes in slowly, stretching me open inch by inch. The burn is delicious.
He’s big. Thicker and longer than I expected, and the slow roll of his hips has him sinking deep and nudging against places I didn't know existed.
“Oh fuck,” I cry softly, breaths hitching with each wet thrust.
“Look how well you take my cock,” he murmurs, groaning.
My inner walls involuntarily clench at the praise and he grunts. “Fuck. You were made for this. So fucking perfect.”
