The odd thing was she wanted to. She wanted to take him into her mouth and make him groan again, she wanted to make him as out of control as she’d been the night before, and she wanted to do it with her mouth.
She’d read all sorts of terms in the romance novels she loved. Alabaster shaft. Rigid pole. Turgid, tumescent rod….
It was a cock, big and hard, and she slid her lips over it, bringing as much as she could into her mouth.
He muttered something incomprehensible, and for a moment his hand released the blanket he was gripping to hover over her head, and then he put it back again, tense, aroused, incredibly patient as she tasted him, explored this strange part of his body that was so mysterious and powerful.
She tried to remember the books, but her brain was going on autopilot, and she lifted her head to look up into his dreamy face. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said, suddenly worried.
“Do anything you want,” he murmured, and this time he let his hand touch her face, a reassuring caress. “Just don’t bite too hard.”
She laughed, still a little uncertain, but she wanted him in her mouth too much to worry. She wanted him everywhere,
over her, inside her, wherever he wanted to be. Her own body was trembling now, and she could feel her arousal so strongly that it distracted her. She wanted, she needed more, and she didn’t know what to do.
His hands cupped her head, gently, guiding her into a rhythm, and he took her hand and placed it around the base of his cock, the part that was too big to fit in her mouth, and his hands guided her, pressing, squeezing.
She gave up any pretense of control, lost in the sensations she was drawing from him. She was moving faster, sucking harder, and she wanted him to come in her mouth, she needed it….
But just as she felt him begin to peak, he pulled her away, lifting her with seemingly effortless ease and putting her astride him so that she was straddling his cock, with only the thin scrap of cloth between them.
“I don’t know whether I love thongs or hate them,” he said in a shaky voice. He broke the straps and tossed it to one side, and then he placed the head of his cock against her. She waited for him to push it in, to finish it, but he didn’t move.
“It’s up to you,” he said. “Take what you need.”
“I don’t…I can’t…”
“Of course you can,” he said, his soft voice at odds with the tense control she could feel rippling through his body. “Just take what you want.” And he put his hands on her hips, to reassure her, not to rule her.
She sank down, just a little, and she could feel him filling her, pushing into her, and a little spasm of release shook her. He held her steady while it lasted, and then, when she was breathing again, she took more of him, and another small climax hit her.
She looked down to where their bodies were joining and began to tremble. “Please,” she whispered.
His fingers tightened on her hips for a moment, then relaxed again. “If you want it, Jilly, you have to take it.”
Somehow her hands had gotten to his shoulders, clutching them. She pushed his head back and kissed him as she took him deep inside her with one, fluid move.
His hand was tangled in her hair, and he was kissing her, with a kind of desperation that was the finish for her. She started to climax again, in slow, powerful waves sweeping through her body, and she dropped her head on his shoulder, holding on as the convulsions shook her body.
She thought she’d finished when he turned her, pushing her back onto the narrow bed, still inside her, but the change just set off a new round of orgasms, and with each of his hard thrusts she went further, until he put his hands between them, touching her, and everything vanished in a flash of white heat, spiraling into darkness, and the only sound was his muffled cry of release.
He was still inside her when she floated back out of the roiling darkness, and her face was wet with tears she hadn’t known she’d shed.
He wasn’t that heavy; for all the strength and muscle, he didn’t weigh that much, but he pulled out, moving onto his side, pulling her with him, so that they were facing each other on the tiny cot, their bodies pressed up against each other’s.
His hair had come loose from its long braid. His face was wet, too, but she couldn’t believe they were tears. He smiled at her then, a smile of such devastating sweetness that she was lost.
“Sleep now, Ji-chan,” he whispered. “We’ve only got a few hours left before they come for us. Rest now.”
She wanted more, but she was too drained to say a word. Any more would probably kill her, she thought, smiling to herself as she pressed her face against his sweat-slick shoulder.
“What’s so funny?” he asked in an absent voice. His long hair was covering them both, and she felt him drape some of it over her shoulders, like some sort of powerful bond, tying them together.
“I’m happy,” she said.
“You’re probably going to die tomorrow and you’re happy? I’m not that good.”
“Yes, you are. And I’m not going to die. You’re going to rescue me, as you’ve done so many times already, and we’re going to live happily ever after.”