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Made him come nearly as many times as she did. Wrenched every drop of seed out of him.
But still she wasn’t done, though he knew she must be as exhausted and as sore as he was. She lifted off of him and meandered down his body, lying between his thighs.
There, she tortured him for hours more. Using her mouth and hands. Using those dexterous fingers that knew just where to rub inside of him.
She tortured him without letting him come for so long, he finally took matters into his own hands, fisting her hair as he thrust up into her throat in measured strokes, only half of him squeezing inside. Choking her until tears streamed down her face.
And yet, she took it. Her mouth so wide around his girth the corners looked tight enough to split. But still she smiled as she looked up at him while he used and abused her mouth and throat with the stuttering punch of his hips, seeking that perfect friction to set him free.
He was an animal in this moment. A mindless beast. She’d tortured him far too long, ripped away all of his sanity and control.
He was desperate for release. Desperate to thrust just a little deeper. Desperate to feel her throat swallow around his vein-wrapped stalk and squeeze him tight. Milk him dry.
Her fingers rubbed against his gland within as her throat clamped down around him, her other hand rolling his stones until they drew up for an explosion.
And he came with a resounding roar, every muscle delineated and tensed to steel. Every vein popping beneath his skin.
She swallowed as much of him as she could, and even when there was no more, she didn’t stop sucking on him, didn’t stop playing inside him.
“Mercy, woman,” he rasped, his voice razed to ashes.
She only sucked his too-sensitive glans harder, the diabolical female. Making him groan, his body still racked with shivers.
Eventually, she pulled out of him and took her mouth away with an audible, wet pop, only to crawl on top of him and take him inside her throbbing channel again.
They both moaned at the fullness, at the incredibly tight fit.
It would always be like this. Perfect pleasure with an edge of pain.
She draped herself over his torso and kissed him tenderly, lazily, as if they had all the time in the world.
He supposed they did. Now that they were finally together again.
They slept a while joined like this. Him lying in the bed of grass and flowers. Her lying on top of him, holding him covetously inside her body.
When a new dawn blanketed the clearing in a hazy glow, she stretched to wakefulness, her core reflexively clenching around him.
He moaned low at the soreness in his cock and stones, his entire groin. It was a delicious agony he would gladly bear. Knowing that exquisite pleasure was only a few thrusts away.
“Good morning, my Shai,” she murmured sleepily, propping herself up on an elbow to look down at him.
“Good morning, little cat,” he replied.
“I have so many questions I want to ask,” she shared. “So many things I want to say.”
“Ask them,” he invited.
“Say them. We will stay here until you have your fill. And then, we must search for food for I need nourishment to keep up my stamina. To keep pace with you,” he teased.
“I am indeed terrifyingly insatiable,” she stated solemnly. “I want you all the time, with every breath. We have a lot of time to make up for.”
They had an eternity to make up for.
Despite her declaration, she stayed silent for a long time, simply looking at him, her eyes lovingly caressing the planes of his face, memorizing him anew.
He did the same as he idly brushed the messy tufts of hair from her cheeks and temples and tucked longer strands behind her ear.
She was flushed with redolent pleasure, her cheeks and bee-stun lips rosy beacons against her fine, pale skin. She smelled of sex, his and hers. As if she’d absorbed him into every pore.
