“I love it,” she gasped, arching closer as she felt his fingers spreading her, opening her to the cool air of the room.
Then he was there, his mouth hot, his tongue a demon as it slowly, too f**king slowly, circled her straining clit. Her head fell back against the post, her eyes staring sightlessly toward the ceiling as whimpering moans fell from her lips.
“You taste so good,” he whispered before his lips enclosed the straining bud, suckling lightly at the tortured mass of nerves as she cried out hoarsely.
“You are a demon, Ian,” she accused him roughly. “You know I’m dying for you to f**k me. Why do you torture me this way?”
He hummed against her flesh, his tongue lapping around her cl*t as he sucked at the dewy flesh. He didn’t deign to answer her, merely continued to torture her. It was an exquisite agony, sending flames rushing through her blood, sparking along her nerve endings.
Mewling whimpers of pleasure escaped her lips as she felt his tongue rasping against the delicate tissue, echoed around her as she shuddered, her knees weakening with the continued assault on her senses.
He lapped at her. Sucked at her clit. Lifted her leg and braced it on the low chest to the side of them before he thrust his tongue into the greedy depths of her sheath, sending her to her tiptoes with the force of pleasure slamming into her.
At the same time, one thick finger slid into the depths, stretching her, opening muscles already sensitized from the night before. She fought for her orgasm, her body tightening, reaching desperately for that free-fall of pleasure that lingered just out her grasp. She clawed at the post, arching, pressing her pu**y tighter against his mouth, screaming with flaming lust as she felt his finger f**k inside her in a rapid series of thrusts that sent her hurling through the vortex of sensation as it exploded around her.
Color burst behind her closed eyes, vivid colors of passion that streaked around her, burst through her nerve endings and shattered her senses.
Almost instantly she felt the mattress beneath her br**sts, cushioning her as her legs were pressed apart and the fiery, broad length of Ian’s c**k began to work inside her with short, desperate strokes. He stabbed into her, his breathing rough as he came over her, one hand clenched at her hip, the other sliding beneath her body to plump one swollen breast.
“You’re so f**king tight.” His voice was rabid with lust now. “So hot and tight you make me want to howl with the need to be inside you.”
She tilted her h*ps higher, screaming out at the whiplash of pleasure and pain as he held her in place. She could feel the sensitive tissue of her sheath rippling around him, sucking him in, tightening on the fiery heat of the intrusion before caressing it with convulsive spasms of another nearing orgasm.
“More,” she screamed out her need. He was going too slow, working inside her when she wanted to be taken, possessed. “Harder. Fuck me, Ian. Fuck me hard and deep before I die of the need.”
She could feel it eating at her, the need tearing at her womb, clawing at her senses as she fought for the next release, the hard, cataclysmic explosions she knew would shape her, define her, would somehow ease the violent hunger he awoke within her.
Perspiration dripped from her body, from his. A rain of passion as she felt him pause, buried only halfway inside her, retreating, then suddenly, shockingly, filling her. Her hands tore at the comforter as she felt his fingers tightening on her nipple, pumping it, pushing her closer as the strokes inside her sex began to gain in speed and desperation.
Her breath sawed from her chest, rasping moans breaking past her lips, pleas…desperation…
“Fuck me!” She screamed out her hunger as she felt the conflagration building in her womb. “Oh God. Ian. Ian. Please…”
He f**ked her harder. Faster. Slamming inside her with a power she could not have anticipated as she felt her body dissolving beneath him. Flesh and bone became liquid, pliant, melting, exploding as the orgasm began to rush through her. She didn’t explode in release, she didn’t come. She melted and became him. On and on the soul-deep merging whipped around her as she tightened on his burrowing cock, her juices flowing between, melding them together, wiping her senses and replacing them with Ian.
With Ian…
Escape.
The word bloomed in Ian’s mind, his very being, as he felt the scalding violence of his release as it erupted from his cock. Something happened, changed. As he held her tight beneath him, heard the greedy need in her voice, felt it in the tight ripple of her pu**y and felt her orgasm, he felt something rip inside him.
A knowledge.
No woman had ever surrendered so easily to him.
No one had ever opened that part of him he kept so carefully hidden. That he hid even from himself. And now it tore open. He felt it. Felt his soul rip in half and something, some dark, forbidden emotion began to flow from him, into her. Began to build inside him until nothing was enough, until he hungered even as he became sated. Until he needed even as he was given.
Until nothing, no one existed but Courtney and the ravaging needs building inside his own soul.
It wasn’t enough. He could still feel her beneath him, her pu**y contracting around his cock, sucking at it, eager for more even as she fought to catch her breath. She was wilder than the wind, hotter than the deepest pits of a volcano and as pure as the deepest reaches of the ocean. And so much a part of him he could feel her reaching out to him, binding him, locking a part of his soul to hers.
“It’s sex,” he growled at her ear then, furious, savage, fighting to reclaim what no one else had ever possessed. “Do you understand me, Courtney? It’s sex. No more. No less.”
Her pu**y rippled around his dick, stroking it, keeping him hard when he should have been satisfied, should have been sated. Keeping him on the edge of a hunger he couldn’t hide from.
“Mmm.” The sound was drowsy, yet filled with hunger. “Whatever you say, Ian. Whatever it is, can we do it again?”
He forced himself to retreat. With every measure of strength inside him he forced himself to pull his hard flesh free of the fist-tight grip she had on him, grimacing in pleasure, in regret as the broad head popped free.
Tearing himself from her was harder. He wanted to scream as he moved, every cell in his body aching to return to her, to feel the soft touch of her flesh against his. As though the electrical currents flowing between them were being ripped apart, the pain sliced at his flesh.
“I have work to do.” It was impossible to contain the fury building within him. “You have lunch.”