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Good.
He wouldn’t let her cum. When she teetered, he pulled back. When she begged, he slowed down. He did everything in his power to make her insane.
It worked.
She gasped.
Begged.
Pleaded.
Gamble took her to the edge, and he bit her.
Not nipped.
Not teased.
He actually bit her, and she exploded apart from the kiss of pain. Beneath him, she went pliant and loose from the flood of pleasure.
Please, God. Why are you doing this to me? What sin did I commit that you’d forsake me? he whispered, and there was no reply.
Only the dream.
He moved up her body.
“Tell me you want it, Storm,” he said, his mouth by her ear as she fought through the pleasure. “Tell me to fuck you again. I love when you are so blunt.”
She blinked and stared up at him.
Oh, he was in for a surprise.
She scissored her legs around him and used all of her body weight to force him off of her. Now, he was pinned beneath her.
Her mouth found his ear.
“Now, Gamble, we fuck.”
It had caught him off guard.
Just like her death did.
Just like the death of their daughter.
Just like being the only survivor left.
As did her sliding down his dick with such force that it stole his breath.
She rode him hard.
Storm offered up no mercy.
Instead, she gave him that same intensity back.
His body ached, his balls tightened, and he was forced to watch her breasts bounce.
“Oh, Jesus,” he muttered as she worked hard to get him to cum while riding his dick.
He gave her credit.
