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“Very much,” I said—and so she kept going, pressing her thumbs into the indentations that my last pair would come out of. The sensation made me rumble, without thinking. “It feels strange—but good.”
“Good,” she agreed, her voice husky from the times she had already come, and her additional need. She popped her thumbs into her mouth one by one, and then put them back where they’d been, now stroking me with her spit, and Ialmost rocked back to sitting with the surprise of the sensation. She made a delighted sound, seeing that she’d stunned me, and licked her thumbs to do it again.
“Sloane,” I whispered. It was taking all of my strength to be patient and let her explore—but I couldn’t manage it any longer. My abdomen started making the rhythmic movements it needed to pump my last pair full—and she waited until the last minute, teasing me from the inside out, making my extending pair push her thumbs aside.
“Do you have any idea how hot that was?” she asked me, looking between my sexual organs and my face. “It’s like you can’t help yourself, like there’s these parts of you thathaveto see me.”
“They do. They need you. Just as much as the rest of me.”
But what I would ask her to do soon would be extraordinary, and I did not want to hurt her. I created a resting web for her, anchored to three of the other walls of the room, a place where I could lay her down safely.
“Have patience with me, my love,” I asked of her, and then stood in front of her, moving my hands to take my pair, one to a fist.
She sat up in my web, her jaw dropping in that way I now knew meant that she was excited. “Oh, Nia’n’an—that’s hot. Work yourself for me—keep going.”
I could hardly stop. This “fuck train” as she had deemed it once, would not be over until I was locked inside her.
But I needed to lubricate her first, especially her tighter hole, and this was the easiest way I could think of to do it.
I closed my eyes, leaning back, thinking of what it would be like to finally bond with her—and then her hands were there, pulling at my tips, also stroking.
I growled, almost sagging forward, so willing to let her lead me.
“You like that?” she asked breathily.
“Yes,” I groaned.
“Good. I want to make you feel good, Nia’n’an,” she said, nodding quickly. “I want to make you feel like you make me.”
Could any more perfect words have fallen from her lips?
“I always want to make you feel good, Sloane.” I stroked myself harder, for her sake. I needed to express myself, so that we could be together as we were meant to be.
“You already have, and you will,” she promised.
“Yes,” I said, but it was in a tone the translation device didn’t carry.
What I meant was:Yes, you are mine.Yes,we will mate.Yes,we will marry.
Yes,every piece of you will soon belong to me.
I grunted, pumped, and released, strong and hard, spraying myself all over her smooth and lovely soft skin. My silvery cum reflected the dim light of the web-covered overhead bulb, so it looked like I was writing on her with ink known only to the two of us.
Her breathing was rough. She’d watched me complete—and I knew she was ready for our final seal.
I reached forward and scraped my cum off of her until I had a good handful, and then I lifted her hurt leg with itshard cast up, putting her ankle over my shoulder, before lifting her to take her bottom leg to wrap around my hip and web her to me.
“My love, give yourself over,” I said, and reached down to spread my cum on her most intimate of places.
Forty-Eight
SLOANE
“I will go slow with you,”Nia’n’an promised—and I knew he meant it, even though I could feel his slippery thumb working against my asshole.
Turnabout was fair play though, I guessed—and it wasn’t like I minded.
He reworked his web then, creating a netting between me and the wall—but I had a feeling if he was going to mount me like he wanted to, a football-field-sized cushion wasn’t going to be enough.
