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As he placed another kiss between her shoulder blades, he put his cock to her opening. As the significance hit him, he paused, his hands flexing.
He’d never been inside her.
“Thank you, Mistress,” he muttered. If he had intended to drive into her the way his cock wanted, this was the moment he would ask her how long it had been, so he didn’t enter too fast or hard. Aside from knowing she had a sweet car and the TRA Mistresses were her best friends, he didn’t know much about her outside the club. If she was in a relationship, or casually banging a new guy every week.
Somehow, he doubted both possibilities. But the question had more significance to him than it had only a few days ago. He wasn’t going to look too closely at that right now. His hands were full enough. Literally. She had beautiful breasts, enough to overflow his grip, and he had big hands.
He came into her easy, a gradual glide, where they felt every excruciating second of the entry, the friction between their two bodies.
As he pushed through that gateway, he rubbed his jaw against her back, put his mouth back on her nape. Her neck was one of her most sensitive areas, and he gave it attention as his lower body sank into pure bliss. She had a small, tight pussy, and he had to bite back a groan. His balls drew up, ready to go the second he released his mental chokehold on his cock.
Or she ordered it. As an experienced sub, the latter usually won the day for him. Tonight had been an hours-long foreplay session, but the training he’d had in holding back with multiple Mistresses, including this one, gave him the control to hold out now.
Though it was hard as fuck.
She was quivering too, her breath coming fast, eyes glazed as he gripped her hips, then went back to her breasts, using a hold on them to drive in deeper, still slow, still easy, but letting her know he was there, and going as far as that channel would let him.
She might be able to have a vaginal orgasm, but no way was he going to count on that, or go before she climaxed. Even when she commanded him to do that, she knew he disliked releasing before she did.
He squeezed her right braced hand. Then he slid his hand under it, capturing her fingers in between his. From there, he brought their linked hands in between the table and her body. A mute request that she place his hand on her cunt, with her own pressed on top of it.
She gave him that blessing, her hand tightening over his fingers as she brought him to her clit and labia. He slid over that slick, velvet flesh, treasuring the ripple that went through her. He had his chin close to her shoulder, so he saw her bite her lip. He closed the gap to do it himself, marking that lush bottom lip with his mouth.
He would have withdrawn, not wanting to compel the intimacy of a kiss, but she turned her head to let her mouth more fully fuse to his. He didn’t have to be invited twice. Yet since he wanted to do a good job stroking her pussy, and that required focus, the kiss became hers. She devoured his mouth, tongue tangling with his. The vibration through her would have been a hum of noise, if she had a voice.
She was having trouble holding herself up on one arm. No surprise, since a hulking two-hundred-pound man was flush against her. He slid his other arm around her, forearm resting diagonally between her breasts, hand wrapped over her shoulder. She gripped his forearm, and he tightened that hold, showing her she didn’t need the table. She had him.
Slow in, slow out. Torture devised in heaven and executed by the angels. Probably the kind that became fallen ones and offered temptation to mortals.
He didn’t want to think about fallen angels, so he squashed that thought and focused only on her. The wobble of her breasts against his arm, the puffs of her breath against his jaw, the press of her ass. They all built the sweet rhythm between them.
As she pushed into his strokes, the impact became more forceful, but no faster. He knew what it was to bring a woman up slow enough she broke into a million gorgeous pieces when her climax took her. Like watching a summer rain shower from the back of his garage, the drops bouncing off the tires and scrap metal, sparkling in the air as the sun refused to completely disappear, the rain drops infused with its heat.
She made him think thoughts like that. Poetic shit. And then she climaxed, and as he’d told her, no words could cover it, how it made him feel. He missed hearing that gasping breath sound she made, but he could imagine it. She’d tucked her head down toward her shoulder, but he envisioned her lips stretching, the glazing of her beautiful eyes, and felt the rigid jerk of her body against his. As he held her tight and kept thrusting, her cunt milked him. Fucking agony and bliss.
His cock leaped at the chance to follow, and an erratic tap at his hand told him he had her permission. The table scraped the floor as his hips bucked, driving him forward and taking her even harder. He rode that churning wave, his pelvis against herass, the two of them rolling and rippling together as he jetted into that condom, inside the wet, dark pleasure of her cunt.
The opposite end of the table beat against that bench cushion with every thrust, protecting the wall from annihilation. It gave him a visceral satisfaction to see it. As did the bite of her nails into the table surface, and the way she lifted to meet those thrusts, urging him to increase their impact.
When at last he finished, still holding tight to her, it took a while for his vision to clear. But when it did, he noted she’d lifted her head enough that he could see her face, and it looked like her world had been rocked in the right way.
Which all in all was a damn nice balm to the helplessness he’d been battling for the past month. Whether she’d planned it or not didn’t matter. Skye was never coy about that shit. She never denied doing things to help her sub, or when those things had a personal benefit to her. What improved him made him a better sub for her.
He liked that forthrightness. It was something he had himself. Maybe he’d lost his grip on it, but tonight he’d found it again. Through the grip he had on her.
He increased the hold of the arm he had wrapped across her, waist to shoulder, and held her close when she leaned into his support. Her cheek lay against his knuckles as he rested his head on top of hers. He didn’t ever want to pull out, but now that the desire was ebbing in that pleasurable, post-good-fuck way, she was going to get uncomfortable. Still being mashed into a wooden table by a big guy, after all.
Slowly, he withdrew. He dumped the condom in the nearby trash, then dropped to a knee. He caressed her back, her hip, as he put his mouth to her cunt. He cleaned away her climax, licking her essence off her quivering thighs. When he picked up the bikini bottoms, she shook her head as she straightened and turned. She brushed her fingers over his head, a sweet thanks.
Unhooking the back of the bikini top, she let it fall, standing before him as naked as he was to her. She was swaying, a half-smile on her face.
Hoping his head didn’t go wobbly and screw this up, he rose and slid his arms behind her back and knees to pick her up. It surprised but didn’t displease her. She settled her arms around his neck as he took them back outside to the pool. When he set her down at the steps, he clasped her hand, inviting her into the pool with him.
They circled one another, arms floating through the water. He sank down, letting his legs bend. Watching her drift before him recalled the mermaids they’d seen earlier, swimming in sensual dances. Her hair floated over her brow as she dove under and found him, hands sliding along his thighs, ass and back before she surfaced in front of him.
He couldn’t hear anything. She couldn’t speak. And yet there was no lack of communication. When she settled on the steps, he slid onto the one behind her, letting her rest against him as he stretched his arms out to either side. She tugged them off the pool’s edge, linking them loosely over her waist and bent thighs. Worked for him.
He was glad he hadn’t seen the mermaids skim out of their costumes and morph back into land creatures. It was nice to have the memory of them only being mermaids.
