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His breath is so deep, almost cavernously locked and scraping against a rock of need and longings. He circles my nipple with his thumb, and another shallow breath jettisons from my lips. “She’s reacting pretty positively to touch of her nipples.” He leans forward, the weight of his body nearer. “She tastes like…” Donnelly teases my nipple with his tongue, then sucks the bud—oh my God. I arch my hips, a soft cry breaching me.
He pulls back just to whisper, “She responds to my lips.” He drives his hand down my body, and staying above my panties, he cups my pussy. “Heat is coming off the spot between her legs.” He sucks my other nipple, and my eyes flit open as another noise catches my throat.
“She’s woken,” he breathes, meeting my gaze with the same hazy longing I’m basking inside. “Does she need more?”
I nod a few times. “I need your…touch…”
“She speaks my language,” he nearly smiles with the words, but the headiness draws us both in too much to be all grins. “I think she’s been poisoned.”
I nod again.
“She’s nodding,” he speaks out loud. I just now notice the radio is somewhere at the foot of the bed. “I’m gonna have to help her survive.” He grips the bottom of his black tee and lifts the fabric off of his head.
I reach up and run my fingertips down his chest and abs, grazing a few tattoos, and then I try to unbutton his jeans again.
“She wants my pants off.”
I nod more.
He’s unbuttoning. Unzipping. Soon, he’s out of the jeans and just kneeling in black boxer-briefs, his erection molded against the cotton.
“She’s staring at my cock,” he announces.
I draw a finger down his length, over his boxer-briefs. The beaded ends of his barbell piercing pushes against the fabric. It’s his frenum piercing. I throb harder.
“She’s touching my cock.” He bows forward, hovered over me again, but this time Donnelly pulls my left leg wider so he can fit closer. His hand trails back up my thigh, making a voyage up my hip like he has to travel the full length of me each and every time. Like he doesn’t want the shortcut. He wants to journey across the longest path of my body.
His palm slides over my breasts and up to my neck. Until he’s caressing my cheek, holding my face, and I can’t catch my breath with him.
Donnelly kisses me with the strength of a bounty hunter helping a galactic queen survive. With the strength of a South Philly guy who really loves a wannabe-alien girl. Fiction and reality combined, my whole body floats up into him. His tongue tangles with mine, and he grinds against my heat.
He groans into the next kiss, and my breath sounds like a needy whimper. He whispers quickly against my mouth, “Her tongue ring is killing me.” My lips swell beneath his lips as the fiery kisses kickstart again. His fingers are lost in my hair, and I bathe in the warmth of his body over me.
When we need to find our breath again, our lips detach, and his other hand slides hotly between my legs.
Donnelly pushes aside the fabric of my panties. With that deep hoarse voice, he whispers, “She squirms a little as I slip…a finger in her.” He’s inside me. Oh my god. What’s more, his gaze grips onto mine as the dizzy sensations overtake me. “She’s really wet. She likes when I touch this swollen…”
I cry as I buck up. “Donnelly,” I say his name first in the blaze he’s ignited.
“She knows my name.” His eyes slide over my lips, but he’s not drawing towards my mouth again, not while he fingers me. “Can she take two of my fingers?”
I nod again.
“She’s nodding like she understands.”
I glance down where his hand is cupped against my pussy, and his second finger fills me. The fullness twitches my legs, and I cling on to his shoulders now. “I need…” I choke on arousal that tries to asphyxiate me. “Fuck.” How am I about to come already? “DonnellyDonnelly.” I’m crying out as his fingers pump inside me, finding a place that is mind-blowing, earth-shattering. Blackness dots my vision.
“You need my cock?” he asks against my lips, bearing more of his weight against me, but all I feel are his fingers and the melodic motion along the most sensitive spot, the friction bubbling sweat on my skin. He thumbs my clit, and I can barely even nod in response to the question.
“Uh…fuck, fuck.” I hold on to him, our eyes catching in the most combustible split-second of my earthly existence. I cry into a higher-pitched moan, toes curling, and he’s soaking up every inch of my orgasm, as though I am the most epic case study.
“She’s pulsating around my fingers,” he chokes out, his muscles flexed in pleasure. “She’s more vocal and responsive. But now she’s gotta take all of me to fully come alive.”
