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His moan comes in a similar strangled fashion as mine. As his limp palm fondles my breast and I rub his thumb over my pebbled nipple, a thick groan escapes his throat. His eyelids lower, the colors of his eyes darkening with unmistakable desire.
I want to make him feel so good, he forgets the pain. Even if it’s just for a few minutes.
I can sense he needs it. To feel something other than pain. Other than numbness at the brutality he’s faced.
He needs to remember howgoodhe can feel.
The moment transforms. The uncertainty and mistrust fades away. It’s replaced by the heat and intensity that burns between us no matter our circumstance.
My hand wanders his body, moving over the faint traces of his lean, sculpted (what remains after captivity). I let it travel down to the thick, silken cock I’ve grown more than acquainted with over the years.
The switch has been flipped—a needy, hungry pulse awakening inside me.
I lick my lips, becoming a woman lost in a spell of lust and desire.
All I want is him. To taste him, fuck him, pleasure him until he’s completely spent.
Salvatore has always teased that no one alive knows the real me except him. That I’m a ‘bad girl’ as he affectionately calls it. The thing is, he’s the only one who knows how to bring out the other sides of me.
The sensuous, sexual woman who craves him like my lungs do air.
No one can make me feel the intense things he does by his mere presence alone.
I seduce him with heavy-lidded bedroom eyes, my hand skillfully working his length. Soft, knowing fingers that grip him, fingers curled in a circle, applying the right amount of pressure. On the upstroke, my thumb rubs across his head, then spreads pre-cum along the rest of his erect shaft, squeezing him as I do.
Salvatore’s jaw clamps down on a groan. His good hand flies out, tangling in a fistful of my curls in the process, but I’m already a step ahead of him—I’m bending forward to take him in my mouth.
My lips seal over his thick length, sliding down until he’s reached the back of my throat.
His many delicious inches that choke me once inside.
My god, does it feel amazing to have him in my mouth again—smooth velvet for skin with the rigidness of steel and the light salt unique only to him.
I savor every second of it, my tongue curling, twisting, twining around him. I show him how much I’ve missed him with each lick and swirl. I tell him so as I suck his tip and then devour him whole.
His head tilts back and relaxation flickers across his usually composed face. The sight only encourages me. I engulf his dick with the heat and wetness of my mouth and play with his balls. I massage them with my attentive touch, stimulating the sac that’s full of what I want pouring down my throat.
All as I watch him let go and my heart swells with a mix of affection and desire knowing I’m the one who can do this—I’m making him feel human again.
Like a man lost in the fiery throes of passion.
Everything he experienced in captivity is no more. He’s alive and I’m showing him that he is. He can still feel, he can stillcome. His heart’s beating more than ever as his scarred, muscular chest tenses and splotches of flushed redness colors his skin.
Salvatore tries so hard to hold on. But my mouth and hands are too good at pleasuring him. He lets go and comes with another strangled groan. His fingers tighten in my curls. I clamp my lips shut on his tip and suck hard.
He’s a goner within seconds. His release slams into him with a jerk of his hips. I welcome the hot streak of cum that fills my mouth.
His eyes open and connect with mine—startlingly intense in their mélange of green and blue, burning me up, spurring me on as I taste every drop of his seed. I don’t want to let go, swirling my tongue across his head as though hoping for more.
He realizes a second later he’s still clutching my curls, forcing my head down, and lets go. He’s out of breath, his body both tense and relaxed. His expression dazed yet hardened once he spies the small smirk starting up at the corners of my mouth. I lick my lips and fingers of any remnants of him and then begin kissing other parts of him.
This isn’t over. We’re just getting started. I intend on fucking him so good he’ll be knocked out and sleeping like a baby by the time I’m through.
“Fuck, Phi,” he groans as I tease him. I’m kissing his stomach, still massaging the sensitive sac that’s his balls. “What the fuck are you—wait—”
“Relax, Jon,” I purr. “Let me take your mind off things. Don’t you want to feel me?”
I step up from my kneel before him, naked except in my panties, delighting in how his gaze follows me. It skims up the length of my body and I can see the spark in them—to say he likes what he sees would be an understatement.
