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I feel the tell-tale tightening in my balls and can’t believe I’m about to come just from watching this sweet angel orgasm.
“Motherfucker,” I groan as I yank my cock out of my pants and grip my length to keep myself from exploding.
I stagger to my feet, cock in my tightly held fist as I catch Ava with one hand when she begins to crumble against me.
I can’t hold it any longer. I feel my come rising up through my shaft, so still holding onto her waist, I take one step back and give myself one pump.
One stroke of my fist over my engorged length. That’s all it takes before I see stars as I feel my seed ripping from me. I hear it splatter against the skin of her stomach where I still have her dress held up.
She stares up at me slack-jawed, still flushed and lax from her own orgasm as I continue to ejaculate all over her, painting her abdomen with the evidence of my desire for her.
When I’m done, my shoulders slump, and I damn near fall to the floor. The only thing keeping me standing upright is the knowledge that I have to keep her from falling.
I look down at her. Her breasts are still hanging from the top of her dress, her white cotton panties are still pushed to the side, revealing her glorious mound. Her hair is falling all around her shoulders. Her lips are swollen from my kisses. Her stomach is covered in my spunk.
She’s disheveled and so fucking beautiful.
I should probably wipe my seed off her, but bastard that I am, I love seeing it on her. Love knowing that it’s there. So instead, I reach out a hand and rub it into her skin like it’s a sticky moisturizer.
She still doesn’t say a word. She’s just standing there in shock, watching me with that wide-eyed innocence that cripples me.
Fuck, I should be ashamed of myself, but I’m not. I can’t regret tasting her sweet heaven, making her come on my tongue, marking her with my come.
I see the confusion and questions in her eyes, but still she doesn’t speak. That’s for the best. Words would only complicate what just happened here. I’m not ready for them yet. She’s not ready for them yet.
So, wordlessly, I slip her dress off over her head. Like a limp doll, she lets me, her eyes never leaving mine.
Then I bend down and scoop her up into my arms, cradling her against me.
I carry her over to my bed and lay her gently on it, pulling the covers up around her.
I tuck her in still dripping in my come.
* * *
Ava
Oh. My. God.
I can’t believe what just happened.
I watch from where I’m laying as Gage disappears into the bathroom. His pants were still open when he carried me over to his bed, revealing a male specimen that’s still very large even when it’s flacid.
Did I really just let my kidnapper give me my first orgasm?
What the holy fuck is wrong with me?
Shame and guilt engulf me, and my face burns with the memory of his head between my legs.
And I can’t even say he forced me or anything. I’d turned to him for comfort.
Why?
All I know is upon finding out the horrible truth about my father, I’d been devastated, so I reached out for the only source of comfort within reach.
It’s been so long since anyone held me or comforted me. Had anyone since Mom? My father doted on me when he was around, but he kept his distance physically. I can’t even remember the last time I was hugged by him.
So what does this mean? That I’m so attention-starved that I seek solace in the arms of the man who means me harm?
