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Snap, something gave in. He grabbed her, or she grabbed him, she couldn’t tell who initiated what, and the fraught silence exploded.
It was like they’d attacked each other. She felt so uniquely, specifically naked wrapped around him, straining. A live wire, thoughts and feelings exposed. Their mouths moved, opened, tongues twining, moaning. She thrummed, burned, with a need that had no name. Not just sex, but a heart-splitting ache, sharp yearning for something far deeper. She craved him. Wanted to crawl inside him, body and mind, heart and soul. She wanted to walk inside his dreams. She was jealous of his past, possessive of his future. She wanted to wrap herself in him like a blanket, twine herself through his body, braid herself into his life. Into his very veins and blood, until they could never be untangled.
The world shifted and spun, pulling at her body. She barely noticed him bearing her down onto the bed. She was wrapped round him, tears spilling over. His pleading mouth called them forth like a fountain, a cleansing rush that left her fresh, clear, and still more desperate for his big body, arching possessively over hers. Pinning her onto the bed while his mouth drew forth her soul, and claimed it.
She gave it up so eagerly. To withhold it would kill her.
His lips moved down her throat, leaving a path like moonlight on water. Slid to her chest, cupping her breasts, lapping and suckling, and forget moonlight, it was the sun, now, shining right out of her chest. She was blinded by the intensity, almost frightened as the light her brightened, the sensation swelled, sharpened, and…what…?
Energy pumped through her, each jolt a blinding explosion…
When she came to, she shook. He was hugging her so tightly, air could barely enter her lungs. Ah. OK. An orgasm. A huge one. And he’d only been touching her breasts. Whoa. This really was a funhouse ride.
As if that wasn’t enough, he rubbed his scratchy chin tenderly against her breasts, as if to console them for moving on, and slid lower.
She grabbed his face to stop his downward progress. “Stop.”
He lifted his head. “Why?”
She sank her fingernails into his big, muscular shoulders. “I’m not getting on that funhouse ride alone,” she said. “I want company.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He pushed her thighs wider, placed his palm over her pussy, cupping her pubic fuzz. “I’m right here for you.”
“No. I mean, I want it to be mutual.”
He looked distressed. “Aw, what’s with the complicated rules? Let me make you come a few more times, before I go off the deep end, OK?”
“Let me touch you, too,” she insisted, still shoving.
He fought for a while, but gave in, with a growl of amused acquiescence. She spun around until they were sixty-nined, and there he was, in all his glory. That big cock, bobbing in her face, dripping pre-come. His earthy warm male musk made her mouth water.
He waited while she got herself organized. It took some wiggling to find the angle. She needed both hands to handle him, and when she got down to it, he was so broad, velvety hot, rock hard. She gripped his shaft, feeling the veins taut and throbbing beneath her hands. Her hands tingled like sexual organs themselves as she went at him, lustily licking up every last salty gleam of pre-come, milking him to squeeze out more. Slow, swirling, tongue-lashing his cockhead. Sucking him deeper as her mouth got used to his girth. She slid her hands up his stalk, fluttered her tongue. She could never get enough of making him quiver and groan and writhe. It made her feel powerful, like a goddess.
It made her feel…happy.
Happy?She had no business being happy. She was setting herself up to get her heart crushed under the wheels of a cement truck.
A stab of panic almost quenched her arousal, but Bruno wouldn’t let that happen, with his perfect instincts. He just put his head between her thighs, put his mouth to her, and proceeded to drive her wild.
She had to stop what she was doing, just lie back and gasp at the unbearable pleasure. His mouth moved tenderly over her clit, lips caressing, tongue plunging, swirling and trilling and sucking. Licking up her lube as if he were starving for it.
After a while, they found their groove, and she grabbed his hips and sucked him deep, her thighs wrapped around his head. She could sense the grin on his face as he licked and lashed at her. She, of course, didn’t have the luxury of a smile with that huge phallus to deal with. It was all she could do to accommodate him at all. But she managed.
They rode surging waves of voluptuous mutual pleasure, a perfect balance of power and trust, but he won the first round. He pushed her until she had to give in, sprawl back, and be washed tenderly away, on wave after shining wave of surrender.
She drifted back through the rainbow haze of aftershocks, and found him sitting cross-legged next to her, stroking her hair.
The look in his eyes scared her. It made her feel so raw. Hopeful.
“You’re so beautiful, when you let go,” he said.
She had to clear her throat before the mechanism would work. “Don’t get mushy on me, Ranieri. I’m not through with you yet.”
He grinned. “I should hope not. My head would explode.”
She gripped his cock, pulling him into her mouth again. Bruno wound the fingers of one hand into her hair, and clamped the other around her hand where she gripped the base of his cock, his breath sawing harshly in and out of his mouth at each deep pull.
It didn’t take long. His balls tightened, his taste changed, and he exploded with hot bursts of energy, like light strobing against her eyes.
