AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He kept hold of me as I guided his cock between my legs. I shuddered as I lowered myself onto him, my arms shaking as I gripped his wrists for support. My eyes fluttered shut as I savoured the sensation of him filling me, deeper, deeper, deeper. We let out twin groans, neither of us moving as I settled against him, ass against his groin. He was as far in me as he could go. I could take no more of him. And yet it never felt like enough. Never enough of him. Never close enough.
My eyelids lifted slowly, heavily, like I was just awakening from a deep sleep. Conor’s own eyes were hazy, his pupils wide. He looked drunk. He looked high. Like he was seeing a mirage in the desert.
I wanted to prove to him once and for all that I was real. That I was here.
I first guided his hands toward my inner thighs as I remained stilled on top of him, as he remained stilled inside of me. I splayed his fingers wide so that he was claiming as much as he could of the tattoo he’d done that pink-hazed night at Dublin Ink. His eyes found mine, a question in the dark. I answered him by pressing his hand firmly against my skin. The tattoo was mostly healed but I could still feel a lingering ache as his fingertips dug into my skin.
His chest hitched when I skimmed the edge of his fresh tattoo. I sucked in a breath of my own and after exhaling shakily I placed my hands over the edges of the sun I’d just created. Conor’s fingers tightened on my thigh and we hissed together. Our eyes met. Locked in pain. Locked in pleasure.
I wanted Conor to know that we were one. Through it all we were one. My pain was his, my pleasure his. And his mine. I wanted him to feel all of me, to hurt all of me, to send every single nerve throughout my body singing with white-hot bliss. I wanted to know I was real, I was here.
Keeping my hands against his chest, I began to ride him. I rose off him till his fingers squeezed the tender flesh of my inner thighs and then I sank deeply, smoothly, tightly back down onto him. We continued that rhythm together. Pain. Pleasure. Pain. Pleasure. It quickly became all the same. The more I pressed on the rays extending from the centre of Conor’s chest, the faster I could fuck him. The harder. The more he burrowed his vice-like grip around my thigh, the more desperately I would come crashing back down onto his cock. Ass against his groin. Hips rocking. Both of us yearning for more. Always more.
Steam from our panting breaths crawled up the base of the tall windows in the art classroom. My knees on the desk were slipping, banging painfully, but I urged us on, my nails digging into his skin. The metal legs of the desk were scraping horribly on the wooden floors, but all I could hear were our grunts and groans, our desperate gasps for air as we barrelled closer and closer, faster and faster to our release.
My vision was nothing but starbursts of light and Conor’s eyes on mine. My back arched, my tits straining into the hot, humid air. Everything in me was on fire as I came hard around him.
With a roar that almost frightened me, Conor slammed me down onto his cock with such beautiful violence. All I could hope to do was hold on as he came, too.
When he released me, his hands falling limply at his sides, I sank against him, chest against chest, and we just breathed together.
“It’s not wrong if it’s love.”
His words came out of nowhere.
I stared up at him. His gaze up at the ceiling, a small smile at his lips.
“What?” I asked.
“There’s going to be a lot of people with opinions. A lot of people who want to paint us, what we have, as something ugly. But…I love you.”
Conor’s hands found the small of my back. I felt the calluses. The scars. He breathed in deeply and I rose on his chest like a butterfly on the back of a mighty beast.
I hid my smile and tucked my head into his neck, breathing in the scent of the man who loved me.
It was as complicated and as simple as that.
