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He licked.
He flicked.
Those fingers spread wider and wider until I screamed again as his knuckles pushed up against my slit. At that, my head fell back some, but I remained locked with him as he carefully started to thrust into me, back and forth, stretching and teasing and torturing my hungry flesh.
I had no idea why I came when his knuckles pressed into my pussy, no idea why that massive hand flexing into a fist had me releasing a guttural groan so deep it seemed to find its source in my soul.
My fingers snapped out, and they sought his ears. I’d never done this before but I guided him, shoving my pussy against his face, fucking him back as he sent his fist into me, taunting me with tiny movements that made me think he was going to open up his hand, but I knew I wasn’t ready for that. So did he.
This wasn’t the first time he’d pushed my limits, and I knew I was in for a lifetime of that because Brennan’s brand of filthy sex was all I wanted.
All I needed.
The pleasure was wicked. Deep and dark and bewitching. It felt better thangood, but it didn’t stir a high in me. Didn’t make me feel like I was flying. If anything, it made me think I was drowning.
It was a dull throb that seemed to spread into my bones, that sank into my blood, poisoning every vein and artery it came into contact with.
I didn’t whine with pleasure, I groaned with the sheer agony of it.
It hurt.
It hurt so good.
When he didn’t stop sucking on my clit, just continued making those teasing stretches with his fist, I slurred, “Your cock. Need—”
His tongue flickered against my clit one final time.
He sucked it hardone final time.
Then he pressed a kiss to itone final timeas he straightened up.
Mouth and chin and jaw drenched with my juices, I slung my arms around his neck as I hauled him into me. I wiggled so my butt wasn’t flat to the pool table, uncaring that my inner thighs screamed with the position, and I glued our mouths together in a kiss that tasted of me.
When he started to retract his fist, I whimpered and moaned, writhed and wriggled against him, understanding how a fish felt when it was hooked on a line.
The panic inside me was strong, enough to make my heart pound as I felt sure his hand would be stuck inside me or something—
An internal pop.
Logically, I knew that didn’t happen, but I felt it anyway when his fist pulled back and the relief inside me had me sagging into him as he thrust his tongue against mine, taking over the kiss.
I felt the gush of liquids release onto the pool table, but though I knew it would stain, he didn’t seem to care. If anything, I felt his slippery fingers pull away and heard the noise of his zipper parting.
Pushing my forehead against his, I broke our kiss and stared down at his hand, wanting to watch as his slick fingers grabbed a hold of his dick. He jacked off for me, using my wetness as a lubricant.
The sight had my empty pussy clutching down against nothing, and I reached between us, slipping my hand around his balls, holding them firm in my grasp.
With his breath brushing my lips and mine his, I whispered, “A husband is a burden. An albatross around a woman’s neck. Something to endure.” I pushed my forehead against his. “You’re a storm to weather, my darling, but you’re no burden, you’re not something to endure—you’re someone to love.”
My words weren’t poetic. They were drawn from my soul when I was hungry for his dick, but his nostrils flared in response, and the way he tore at my mouth was clue enough that I’d pleased him.
That my words had pleased him.
As he feasted on me, his dick found its way home, and as he slipped inside, his hands shifted.
He drew one heel out of the pocket, then when the other got stuck, he didn’t relinquish his hold on me, just shuffled me down the table, one hand holding my leg high against his waist, while the other was stuck in the netting.
I’d have laughed at any other moment, but nothing about this was a laughing matter.
