His mouth disengages, and his thumb takes the place of where his tongue was. I suck on the digit, conveying my ardor. I want a happy end to all that I’ve endured.
Picking up the toothbrush, he turns it on and places it on top of my clit.
I shriek. “Holy shit!”
I inadvertently throw my head back, which tugs my clit more fully into the toothbrush. My hapless body doesn’t know which direction to run. He takes away the toothbrush. I pant. This is crazy. He’s using my toothbrush for a vibrator, and my clit is so sensitive right now, so engorged, that the vibrations are killing me.
“Relax,” he says. “You can come whenever you feel like it.”
It sounds like a good thing, but I’m not so sure. He puts a hand on one knee to keep my legs from closing together. I squeal through clenched teeth when he applies the toothbrush again. I squirm, and one of my legs folds inward in an attempt to knock his arm away.
He grabs my chin and turns my gaze toward him. “Don’t move. You want to come, don’t you?”
I stare into his dark eyes and nod.
The toothbrush is back at my clit. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to breathe through the overwhelming sensations. I can do this. I did it with the actual vibrator. I can do it with a toothbrush. I groan and gasp through each reapplication of the toothbrush, simultaneously relieved and disappointed each time he withdraws the toothbrush. Until he doesn’t. He places the toothbrush at my most sensitive spot and his finger on the side so that my clit is trapped, vibrating between the bristles and his digit. Within seconds, my orgasm plows into me, and I can’t stay still. I almost wish I was completely restricted because I end up pulling too hard on the floss.
He has a tight grip on my thigh, holding me in place as I convulse, trying to scramble away from the toothbrush while euphoria pumps through my veins.
“Please!” I beg. “Oh God, please!”
He releases me and turns off the toothbrush. I fall onto my side, curled in a fetal position, my clit throbbing like crazy.
Anything and everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
He’s not done with me.
He takes off his clothes. After he removes the floss and frees my arms from my shirt, I stretch out my limbs, thinning the tension that has collected in my muscles. He lays over me, pressing me face down into the bed. I feel his hardness prod my backside. Anything and everything probably includes anal sex. God Almighty.
Luckily, he aims his cock lower, sinking into my pussy, the entry made easy by the copious amount of wetness there. He murmurs something that sounds like ‘zut.’ In this position, the depth of penetration is limited, even as he bends his legs, straddling the outside of my thighs, but the angle hits me just right. When I envision sex, I picture the missionary position more often than not. I equate humping from the back with four legged creatures, but I can’t deny the pleasure I derive from being taken from behind.
After settling himself more fully inside of me, he brushes aside my hair to kiss my neck and upper shoulders. It feels surprisingly intimate. Contrary to his rougher motions downstairs, he rolls his hips with much more tenderness. I sigh at the gentler approach, content to be caged beneath his weight. Gradually, he tries to leverage off the bed to deepen his thrusts. There’s not much I can do except lay there. I can’t see him, I can’t touch him. Except with my pussy, which flexes about him, making him groan. He entwines his fingers in mine.
My journey to orgasm this time is much less frenetic. I can savor each stroke and relish the slow build-up. It’s like taking the scenic route, and when I reach my climax, I’m ready for it. With a cry, I feel like I’m able to ride the wave instead of being wiped out by it. He quickens his pace after I come, his groin slapping faster and more furious against my ass. I feel him spasm against me as he comes. With a loud grunt, he bucks against me a few more times before settling his body over me. I breathe in satisfaction.
I’m exhausted. It’s been a marathon of sex, and it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. Can I really take another day of this?
Tony pulls out of me and lays beside me. “So is that a ‘yes?’”
I close my eyes. As I fade into slumber, I murmur my response.
Yes.
IN THE MORNING, I WAKE up in the crook of Tony’s arm. I’m not sure how I got there, if he reached for me or I imposed myself into his body. But it feels nice. Really nice. I glance at his face to see that he’s staring up at the ceiling.
“Awake long?” I ask.
He turns to me. “An hour, maybe an hour and a half.”
I start. “Really?”
I like the way his lashes move when his gaze takes in my face from my brow to my lips, and his voice is relaxed when he speaks. “I didn’t want to wake you by moving.”
“That’s, um, nice of you.”
He looks away with a snort, rejecting the compliment. “You think it’s for your benefit, ma petite? I want you rested for anything and everything.”