AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He varied his strokes, every so often pulling almost completely out of her, waiting a few seconds until her hips moved in search of him, and then plunging deep and fast.
He paced his movements to hers, the pressure building further as she thrust her hips back toward him.
She reached for a throw pillow and buried her face in it, deeper with each stroke. Her hands kneaded the edge, the fabric muffling her moans. She was close. He sped up, and she thrust back harder. Her cry left him . . . make that both of them . . . shuddering.
He pulled out a few moments later, and slowly she stood.
Light from the driveway lanterns shined through the gaps in the curtains, enough to see her erect nipples, the flush in her cheeks and neck, her lips, darker and more full than he remembered. He stifled the urge to kiss them.
She picked up her robe from the floor, put it on and reached her arm out, leading him—thank you, sweet Jesus—up the stairs and not toward the front door.
She sat on the edge of the bed, in the same room as the other night, and she slid the nightstand drawer open. She pulled out a long silk scarf, handed it to him, and held her wrists out toward him, together.
She wanted him to tie her hands?
Okay, he wouldn’t have gone there himself, but he complied, careful not to hurt her by wrapping them too tightly. She lay on her back and brought her bound hands over her head. “Tie them to the bed,” she said, quiet but certain.
No, he definitely had not expected this, but he snaked the long ends of the scarf twice through the headboard and knotted them like she asked.
Sitting back on his haunches, he looked at her, her arms overhead, her gaze distant, and he ran his fingers along the side of her breast and down along her waist. She shivered, and he continued, across her belly, up the center of her torso, over one breast and then the other, her nipples even harder now. He trailed as lightly as possible while still keeping contact with her skin.
When he glanced down, her legs were spread and her hips tipped back and forth, as if an invisible cock—not invisible, make it his—were inside her.
But he wasn’t hard enough to take her again yet, so he moved down between her legs, slowly spread her lips with his fingers, listened to her gasp as he touched her, and then tasted her. Delicious. Honey and salt, citrus. Mm. Tangerine.
He explored some more, ran his tongue along her lips, swirled it around her clit. The faster he moved, the more pressure he applied, the more she writhed. He tried teasing and biting her, at first small little nips with his tongue and lips and, as she moaned and wriggled with pleasure, harder with his teeth.
With his mouth still on her, he inserted two fingers. She moaned again and her pussy contracted, pulling them deeper. He worked them like a cock, hard and fast and deep, while he nipped her clit again and again with his teeth and tongue. He slowed for a second to watch her. “Too much?”
She shook her head vigorously, her dark hair sweeping the pillow.No.
Her movements told him to go faster, to plunge harder, but he kept the pressure steady, not wanting her to come before he got inside her.
Fully erect now—finally—he slowed and withdrew his fingers. Retrieving another condom, he moved higher on the bed and, although she hadn’t asked, he untied the scarf from the headboard. She must have pins and needles by now, with her arms raised like that.
She watched his cock as he sheathed it. With her wrists tied together but her arms free, she got up on her knees and motioned for him to lie down.
When he did, she climbed astride him, closed her eyes, and lowered herself inch by inch all the way down on his pounding dick.
Her bound hands rested on his stomach as she rode him. She would surely be sore later; they had been going at each other hard.
His hands went to her hips. He could not stop touching those hips. With his palm, he traced their curve, slid his hand back and gripped her ass.
“Pull my hair,” she said, her voice shaking as she lifted off and sank onto him over and over.
He rubbed her haunches, his thumbs stroking her thighs. “Your hair?”
She nodded and leaned forward, her brown locks falling over her face. He reached for a clump and pulled.
She sighed. “Harder.”
He pulled again, holding it a second longer this time.
“Please. Harder.” There was an anguished edge to her voice, as if she were about to break down and cry.
* * *
Except for a coupleof limp attempts, he was massaging her scalp. What part ofpullwasn’t clear?
