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I gasp, a sound that carries with it the weight of every unspoken fantasy. His hands become firmer, guiding, demanding more from me than ever before. In this space, in his arms, I’m not just flesh and bone. I’m fire and hunger, a whirlwind of want. JD picks me up and carries me into the bedroom. Carefully, he places me on the bed.
This is what I crave, someone who knows how to treat me. Someone who knows I’m precious.
“Cheree,” he says, and it sounds like a benediction, “Let. Go.”
So, I do. I let go of the fear, the doubt, the memories of Tank and his selfish taking. Here, now, with JD, I explore the contours of my own passion. I’m no longer content to be passive. I want to feel everything, taste every sensation.
My response is a movement, a keening sound as I guide his hand where I ache the most. It’s a dare, an act of trust. And when he touches me there, right there, I shatter into a thousand brilliant pieces.
“Yours,” I pant. Not a surrender, but a sharing of power. With each stroke, each caress, I’m rewriting my story.
“Ours,” he corrects gently, and I think yes, this is what I’ve been searching for—a partnership in pleasure, a communion of souls hungry for the same flame.
In the heat of our joined bodies, I find the courage to explore further, deeper. JD’s hands are my guide, as his fingers move in and out of me.
“Here?” he questions, pressing at a boundary.
“Please.” Is all I can muster, and it’s enough. He understands. There’s no hesitation, only the beautiful pressure of being stretched, filled in ways that leave me breathless, craving more.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and I feel it—not just hear it.
I am beautiful, not broken.
Desired, not used.
Heat pulses through my veins, a tide of want lapping at every nerve ending. JD’s lips trace a line down my trembling stomach, his breath hot against my skin. He looks up at me, eyes dark with promise, and then he descends, his mouth finding the apex of my need.
“JD...” I gasp, fingers tangling in his hair, guiding him, begging him without words to keep going, to take me over that edge. His tongue is relentless, a soft, skilled pressure that knows exactly where to move, how to circle, when to push.
Sensations coil tight inside me, building, swirling, until the world narrows to the point of my shattering release. My back arches off the bed, a silent scream etched into the charged air as the orgasm crashes over me, waves of pleasure radiating from the core he worships.
“God, yes,” I pant, the room spinning slightly as I come back down, sated yet still hungry for more of him.
JD rises up, his hard body aligning with mine, and I feel him there, ready, hard. He watches me, waits for a sign, and I nod, unable to find words. With one smooth motion, he thrusts inside, filling the space left quivering with aftershocks.
“Cheree,” he groans, a raw sound laden with so much more than lust. “You’re mine, for as long as you want or need me.”
I wrap my legs around him, pull him closer, lock eyes with him. “Yours,” I breathe, knowing it’s true. This isn’t just flesh joining flesh; it’s a melding of souls that have searched too long in the dark.
“Mine,” he repeats, each thrust punctuating the word, driving it deep within me—not a claim, but a promise.
His rhythm is steady, each movement a testament to the trust we’ve built, brick by brick.
“And you’re mine,” I whisper back, giving as good as I get, meeting him stroke for stroke.
“Always,” he vows, and I cling to that word like a lifeline because I know, with JD, I am not just another notch on the bedpost.
I am cherished, treasured.
“Forever,” I murmur into his shoulder, marking him with my nails, my teeth, my very essence.
“Forever,” JD echoes, and the word is a seal on the pact we’ve made.
His cock moves in and out of me, and with every stroke he hits the spot.
“Harder,” I pant.
JD leans on his elbows and grins down at me. “As you wish.”
