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Jameson’s fingers found my clit again, and he ran them up and down the folds of my pussy, flicking my clit so that my body jerked involuntarily with leftover pleasure from the orgasm I’d just had.
He chuckled against my breast.
“I like you like this,” he muttered.
“How?” I breathed.
“Naked. Writhing. Mine for the taking.”
He pushed his fingers into me so I couldn’t think of something clever to say, and I bit down on my lower lip.
Jameson retrieved his hand and rolled onto me. He scraped his teeth along my other nipple, nipped at it, and pushed my thighs apart with his hand. I opened my legs for him, and he pinned me down. His cock found my entrance again, and he pushed into me. I tangled my fingers in his hair when he slid into me.
“Jameson,” I sighed as he filled me up again, and I was putty in his hands.
His face was fractions from mine, his eyes a deep blue, boring into my soul. He kept eye contact while he fucked me, bucking his hips harder and faster. His chest on mine pushed my breath in and out of my body in rhythm with his fucking, and my moans got louder and louder. Every inch of me felt his sex—not just my pussy. I was a being of need, and his pounding reduced me to a trembling puddle of pure bliss.
Jameson’s hips slapped against my ass with every thrust, accentuated by my cries and his cursing. The deep bass thumping through the walls of the club was the backdrop to our symphony of sex, and I was getting closer and closer to another orgasm.
“You feel so good,” Jameson panted between breaths.
I wanted another release. I was on the verge of another wave of pleasure, but Jameson slowed down his pace, listening to my breathing, teasing me.
“Please,” I begged.
“What?” Jameson asked.
“I want you to make me come again.”
Jameson grinned. He liked keeping me on the edge.
He planted a kiss on my mouth, stroking slowly in and easing out of me. I whimpered into his mouth. Every fiber in my body trembled, aching for the release that would come, but Jameson wouldn’t let it happen.
I curled my arms around his neck, digging my nails into his skin.
I wrapped my legs around his ass, pulling him deeper into me—as deep as he would go.
He gritted his teeth, the pain of my nails spurring him on, and he ramped up the intensity, kicking into a new gear.
Another orgasm built inside of me, hot and serious, and I gave myself over to the feel of Jameson’s cock entering and retreating, his hot breath on my skin and his grunts and groans that mixed with my cries of pleasure.
When the orgasm reached its peak, just before I fell into the abyss, Jameson’s strokes shortened.
I exhaled sharply when the pleasure erupted at my core. It washed through my body, and I turned into a being of pure orgasmic bliss. My muscles turned to jelly, my mind went blank, and all I was, was the pleasure that rolled through me in waves.
Jameson let out a primal roar a moment later, and he pushed into me as far as he could. His cock jerked, and I felt his orgasm roll through him, his muscles contracting.
Magic oozed out of his pores, and when I looked at him, his eyes were the eyes of his bear.
My fox was with us, too. My eyes changed—I didn’t have to see them to know it—and my skin rippled with magic.
Our collective power filled the room so that it became hard to breathe. The magic twisted together, melding to each other, and Jameson kissed me. When our lips were locked, his power poured into me, and mine into him. My fox rubbed up against his bear as if they’d known each other a long time.
I suddenly felt guilt—so much of it. Pleasure combined with pain, but I knew it wasn’t my emotions I felt. It was Jameson’s.
He was an open book. I was connected to him, plugged into his innermost feelings.
Jameson lifted his head, breaking the kiss, panting.
