A climax struck her, rippling around his thick cock. He groaned and spurted inside her, three fast jets, and then he was still as hard as ever, and continued fucking her. Her flesh felt sensitive, the pleasure absolute. Heaven. Hell.
Tears stung her eyes and he bent to lick them, slowing the pace, dragging his cock deep within her sheath.
His hands swept up the sides of her rib cage so his fingers could curl around her breasts, tweaking her nipples and shooting ripples across her system.
“Andy,” she pleaded again, rolling her head, biting her lower lip so hard, she felt blood.
He bent his head and slid his tongue over her lips so her teeth released their painful grip. When she let go, he laved the tenderized flesh, soothed the throbbing ache with his tongue. She mewed in gratitude and her tongue came out eagerly to draw him in deeper, keep him inside her. His taste, male and powerful, invaded her senses. She clung to his straining shoulders and then it hit. Another powerful orgasm, tearing out his name as wave after wave crashed through her systems, halting and restarting them, all at the same time.
She was still coming when Andrew bucked and climaxed with a harsh groan.
Still panting after the tremors, he withdrew and slid his dampened cock up between her breasts, rubbing himself over her skin, marking her, his eyes wild as he squeezed the flesh of her mounds around his cock.
Need surged within her, more powerful than ever. “Andrew, let me play with your piercing. Let me lick you.”
“No, Whitney, you can lick me up after I make love to you . . . but right now I’m going to fuck you hard like you deserve.” He eased back, moved, and she saw him change his cock piercing into something that was huge and shaped like a heavier, larger version of what he had been wearing. “You make me angry when you deny me and now I need to show you who takes care of you. Who protects you. Loves you.”
He untied her and rolled her over, and she gasped as she felt him at the entrance of her pussy from her rear, her eyes wide as she imagined him fucking her with the new piercing. “You are, Andrew, you do.”
“Don’t ever forget it.”
She felt him stroke his thumb down the fissure between her ass cheeks, and she quivered in anticipation as he eased his cock inside and teased his thumb around the rosette of her anus.
“This little thing is mine, too,” he said, stroking his thumb in and out and around her, before deftly teasing it back in. “Every orifice in your sweet body.”
He caressed the outer rim once more as he thrust his cock in and out, in and out, the new piercing heavy and thick, dragging along her vaginal walls until she felt it rub against extremely sensitized tissue, deep within her.
She whimpered in abandon, realizing he’d known he’d hit her G-spot like this; with the added weight of the ring scraping along the spongy tissue, the pleasure was absolute. When his thumb entered her in synchrony, she cried out in pure bliss. The double sensations drove her mad, her eyes almost crossing, blind to sight, all her senses attuned to Andrew.
He pushed her down onto her elbows while her ass remained up in the air, the position opening her sex organs to him. She could feel him watch as he penetrated her. Could feel the jiggle of her breasts. The way he pleasured her with his thumb and cock simultaneously. Then he exchanged his longest finger, his middle finger, with his thumb, and his cock rammed straight home, reaching so deep within her Whitney went crazy. Ecstasy slapped her on all sides.
“Squeeze your breasts, darling.”
She did, squeezing them in the way he did, already feeling another orgasm coming.
“That’s right. Now pinch them for me.”
His shaft kept stretching her pussy, making her muscles clench and ripple as his heavy ring stroked across her sensitized flesh.
“Keep them pinched until you come,” he ordered.
“I’m coming,” she moaned. Then she screamed as pleasure burst inside of her, his cock dragging into her sensitized flesh, over and over, as she convulsed beneath him. He barked out in pleasure and bucked his hips against hers, increasing the tempo, prolonging her orgasm until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only feel the pleasure engulf her, consume her.
She collapsed, vaguely aware of him spurting inside her, his cock jerking several times, provoking new shudders of a tiny orgasm inside her.
They lay there forever, panting and limp.
She heard him stir behind her, but she was still too dazed to move. Managing to swivel her head around, she watched him grab some tissue from the nightstand, and since she remained weak and lax, she easily allowed him to roll her onto her back and clean her up.
His hands worked gently between her thighs, his gaze tender on her face, and when her breath quickened, he smiled a killer, all-knowing smile.
He bent over her and kissed her, then he slowly, slowly, made love to her, murmuring how beautiful she was, how he loved and had missed her, how wet and tight she felt and how hard she made him.
When they were spent, tired, and sated, he cleaned her once more and tucked her back under the covers with him.
She wiggled closer by instinct, craving his nearness with sickening intensity, and she realized no matter what she told herself or how frequently she denied it, she was still as wildly in love with him as she’d ever been.
She’d never stopped.
Not even when she simultaneously hated him.
Her stomach twisted so powerfully at the realization, she almost felt like throwing up.
Oblivious to her turmoil, Andrew gathered her closer, seizing her chin between his thumb and forefinger to search her face. “You did well with Dr. Lincoln, Whitney?”
She nodded against his chest. “I no longer need to see her, and thank God I’m off the pills.” She sighed, absently steepling her fingers with his, admiring their tattoos, and for a moment, this one moment, it felt like Andrew had never left. “I was sick of those pills, they made me so groggy.”
“No more nightmares?”
An image of Uncle Harry popped into her head, and the thought of his angry face and stale breath made her squeeze her eyes shut. She had nightmares about that man all the time. When he came to her bed. When he died. His blood hot on her skin. So hot. So red. “Sometimes I still do,” she admitted.
But now I also have nightmares of waking up to find that you’re gone.
“I’m sorry,” he replied, and she wished the wealth of concern in his timbre didn’t affect her like it did.