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His eyes widen, and his pupils dilate. “You like that.”
My lips part, and sounds I don’t want to make tumble from my mouth. Nerve endings in my lower body spark with electricity, and an invisible band of fire draws tight around my womb. It implodes, drawing all my feminine parts tight in my core before it snaps and explodes from my clit outward. All the while, I watch his face. I hold his eyes as much as he holds mine. For the briefest of moments, he’s exposed, and I understand why he’s enjoying this. My pleasure gives him power.
With a hand on my back, he presses my upper body to his chest while he holds my sex in hand, applying gentle but unyielding pressure to my clit while aftershocks from my orgasm wrack my body. I shake in his hold, my energy spent, and my pleasure his. Only when my body turns quiet does he stop his assault on my clit. He keeps his hand between my legs still while he brushes a broad palm over my hair and down my back. His lips are warm and dry as he plants kisses from the arch of my neck down to my shoulder. His breath is a mist of heat on my skin. His erection is a steel rod that presses against my stomach from the difference in height with him standing and me on my knees, but he doesn’t pay it any attention. Slowly, he pushes me back on the mattress and straightens my legs. Kneeling on the floor between my legs, he kisses first my clit and then my folds, running his tongue over the wetness and lapping it up until I’m only wet from his tongue, but no longer slick.
When he finally gets back on his feet, he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. A flush burns on my cheeks.
He smirks and bends over me to plant a firm kiss on the corner of my mouth. My scent is musky on him. He continues to plant kisses down my body, turning rougher. I’m still soaring from my orgasm when he starts nipping my nipples and pinching my clit. It takes him a long time to bring my body to a quick, but intense, second orgasm. His roughness, in contrast to the first orgasm, feels like punishment, but I can’t think of a single reason why. His house is spotless, and I stay away from the kitchen. By the time he’s done with me, he’s panting as hard as I am. He doesn’t angle his face away from me like I’m used to, but pulls me into a sitting position on the edge of the bed while his hands go for his pants.
The air squeezes out of my lungs.
He’s going to fuck my mouth.
6
Valentina
Visions of me on my knees in the middle of the road for anyone to see make my throat tight. I close my eyes, trying to visualize a black hole in space, anything so I can escape into a dark corner of my mind.
“Open your eyes,” Gabriel commands.
I obey. I don’t have a choice.
“Unzip me.”
He has undone the button of his pants. A trail of hair peaks out from under the open flaps. My hands shake as I pull down the zipper. I’m on eye level with his crotch, and he’s towering over me. The difference in strength between us chokes me. He can easily make me swallow him, and there will be nothing I can do.
“Take me out.” His voice is quiet and calm. There’s nothing threatening about it.
Slowly, I push the elastic of his briefs down his hips to free his erection. He’s impossibly big. Free from its constraints, his cock twitches and hardens more. The crest is broad and smooth. Manly veins run over the thick shaft to where the root is cushioned by heavy balls.
He doesn’t grab my hair and force himself into my mouth, but simply stands there, watching me as I study his cock. I’ve never seen one from close-up. I’ve had Tiny’s down my throat, but I deliberately never looked at it. Gabriel’s is beautiful, a work of art.
He doesn’t object when I slide a finger over his length from the bottom to the top, so I carry on with my exploration, caressing the velvety head. I’m rewarded with a drop of moisture that spills from the slit. In response, liquid heat gathers between my legs, even if I’ve just had two orgasms. When I wrap my fingers around him, he groans. Loudly. He’s not afraid to let me see the power I have. The deep lines that cut from his hips to his groin fascinate me. I abandon his cock to trace them with my fingers, surprised at how hard the muscle is underneath. A white scar runs across his hip, covering bone and flesh. He grits his teeth when I trace it, but doesn’t say anything. His cock jerks when I run my hands down to his inner thighs and cup his balls. They’re soft and heavy, contracting in my palm.
