A tentacle spirals around one nipple, a vine around the other, and before I know it I’m tracing them with my fingers, brushing them over the hard points. Delilah stiffens, inhales. Below her breasts, over her sternum is a stained-glass raven with its wings spread, a million shades of gray and blue and purple and black, almost but not quite at odds with her pale skin.
They’re her, living and breathing and just as much her as her freckles or her lips or the birthmark on the back of her knee.
I bend my head, suck one nipple into my mouth and Delilah gasps and moans and pushes her hand through my hair. She’s hiked against my thigh and I hike her harder. I bite, hear the way her breath hisses between her teeth. I suck until her breathing is ragged and her nipple is puffy in my mouth, and then I do the same to the other one.
Somehow, we shift on the couch until she’s under me. Somehow, my hand’s found its way between her legs again and I’m stroking her wetness, dragging my fingertips between her slippery, swollen lips before plunging inside her up to my knuckles.
Delilah groans. I find her clit with my thumb, stroke it as I crook my fingers inside her against the spot that makes her hips rise off the couch. She squeezes me back, pussy like a vise around my fingers, the sound coming from her like it’s being ripped from her chest.
Dear God, this is what I have wet dreams about.
“You gonna make me come again before you fuck me?” she gasps.
I crook my fingers again, thumb firm on her clit.
“You tell me,” I say. “Fingers or cock, Bird?”
I push my fingers deeper and move them again and whatever answer she might have given me gets lost in a desperate gasp, both her arms over her head as she grabs the arm of the couch, eyes closed.
“Cock,” she finally whispers.
I pull my fingers from her though I keep my thumb on her clit for another moment and she bucks her hips against me as I pull away.
At last, I take my pants off. Delilah sits up, tugs at my boxers, wraps her hand around my shaft the moment it’s freed, strokes me as one leg curls around my hip, drawing me in.
“You still good?” I ask, voice rough as anything.
“Still good,” she says, strokes me again. “You?”
I bite my lip, brace one hand on the couch arm, next to her head.
“Good,” I manage to get out, and then I’m bare at her entrance, slippery and tight and warm and she’s half sitting up with her elbows beneath her and one leg wrapped around my hips, breath coming in gasps, tattoos and breasts moving with every inhale.
I sink into her with one hard, deep stroke, all the way to the hilt. We both make an animal noise, both clench the leather of the couch tighter in fists. Every muscle in my body tenses and Delilah does the same, arching under me, rocking slightly.
I pause, just for a moment, so I can bookmark this, come back to it later. I pause because I know it’s impossible to go slow with Delilah, not when she’s always felt like her pussy fits me like a glove, not when she moans while she takes every inch of me on the first stroke, not when her nails rake down my back and her legs wrap around me and I’m completely, utterly under her spell.
“Jesus, you feel even better than I remember,” I whisper.
I slide my hands up her torso and let her breasts fill my hands, nipples between my fingers and she lifts her leg, drapes her knee over my shoulder and I’m fucking her again. Harder this time, millimeters deeper, and this time she moans louder, braces one arm against the couch, arches into me.
“Hard,” she murmurs. “Please?”
As if I could deny her. As if I could do anything but drive into her again and again, each stroke better than the last as she gasps, whimpers, moans. We fuck hard and fast, tangled together, impossible to tell where I end and she begins.
Delilah comes hard. She come shouting oh fuck yes, one leg still over my shoulder and the other locked around me. She shudders and she shakes and I follow her by milliseconds, the world filled with white light and heat and nothing else as I come inside her.
The comedown is slow. I keep rocking against her long after I’m finished, my head in the crook of her neck, both of us slick with sweat. Her fingers are in my hair again, this time gentler as I lift my head and kiss her, both of us panting for breath.
I kiss her lips, still inside her. I kiss her jaw, her neck. Delilah is intoxicating. Enchanting. Being with her feels like standing in full sunlight: I know how easy it is to get burned, but the way the warmth feels on my skin is worth it.