Page 110 of Badd Love
Still just my hips rocking back and forth on his belly, smearing my wetness all over him, my pussy aching and clenching as the last of my orgasm left me. He began moving with me helplessly, pumping up into me, and I started using my legs, pushing with my thighs, lifting up so I almost lost him before sinking on him, still with measured, deliberate movements.
His hands roamed my back and shoulders, toyed with my hair, caressed my ass, and the backs of my thighs. He suckled on my tits and licked them, kissed here and there, pausing now and then to growl and pant as I moved on him.
"Ah fuck, Linz," he panted. "I'm—oh god, oh god, ohgod—oh fuck oh god ohgodfuck!"
"Yeah?" I breathed. "Is that what you need?"
"Yeah, baby. Just like that."
I sat upright on my shins and rode him for all I was worth, then, slamming down on him as hard as I could. He reachedup to palm my tits as I rocked on his cock, and then as orgasm seized him, he gripped my hips and crushed me down onto him.
"Oh fuck, Linz! Lindsey!"
I felt it happen, felt the moment he let go. His hard, stroking thrusts faltered and he shouted as his cock pulsed inside me, and his cum filled me in a hot, wet flood. I cried out in ecstasy as he came inside me, weeping and sobbing as his release triggered yet another of my own.
This one, however, was unlike any other. And yes, I know I've said that before. But I really, really mean it, this time, and it's been true every time I've said it.
It's just that this climax was one of union—soul with soul. He came inside me and I came around him, and our eyes were locked and we were both breathless and we moved in perfect synchronicity, meeting each other stroke for stroke and I felt his very soul wrap around mine, felt his heart shatter as mine did and the pieces of our hearts and the fragments of our souls united and shifted together and matched and puzzled until there no end to me and no beginning to him, no seam between our souls. It was perfect oneness as I had never known could exist in this universe, and now it was ours.
I fell forward onto him and he claimed my mouth and crushed me to himself and fucked into me as he came, filling me with rush after rush of hot wet seed, and I braced on one arm over him, fingering my clit with the other to send my orgasm to renewed heights—another orgasm, and another, or wave after wave of the same one; I didn't know and cared less. He cupped my face in one hand as he kissed me, all tongue and teeth, and with the other he palmed my ass, and then his fingers splayed over my crack, and I arched my back into him.
"I want it, Dane," I whispered. "Give it to me."
He growled and fucked me harder, and his middle finger slid against my asshole. "You want this?"
"Yes!" I cried.
His finger vanished and I heard him spit, and then hot saliva smeared my asshole and his finger pushed against me and then he was fingering me, his thick digit sliding into me slowly as he fucked me.
I couldn't manage words, then—I could barely summon the oxygen to let out a scream as the new sensation poured jet fuel on the inferno of my climax. My whole body shattered, shuddered, and shook, then, and he was unrelenting, pounding his cock into me while slowly, carefully sliding his finger deeper into me until his knuckles finally met my ass cheeks.
I couldn't breathe, and I could no longer even move—I was coming too hard, shaking too helplessly. I was bent double over him, my mouth open against his throat as I rasped wet, sobbing breaths, and he was panting and gasping and groaning, making small soft desperate noises that had no neat categorical descriptions, thrusting into me with ragged, powerful thrusts, each one pouring a new hot wave of cum into me, and then finally, at long last, he stopped thrusting and the longest, hottest, most intense orgasm of my life began to subside, and then I was a boneless puddle of very well-fucked woman on top of him, leaking cum and shaking like a leaf.
He still had his long, thick middle finger planted firmly up my ass.
I liked it.
Alot.
Alas, he had to remove it eventually, and he did so even more carefully than he'd put it in. Next, I lost his cock.
This made me sad.
I mewled pathetically when he slipped out of me. "No," I whimpered. "Give it back. I need you."
His laugh was low and pleased. "You sure know how to make a man feel ten feet tall."
I used the fact that my mouth was already pressed against his throat to kiss him there, and then his jaw, and then his mouth. "And you sure know how to fuck a woman so good she forgets her own name."
"Lindsey Snelling," he supplied.
I giggled. "Oh, right. Thanks."
He lifted me off of him and deposited me next to him, cradling me against his chest. His heart beat rapidly under my ear, and his skin was hot, and his muscles firm, and his arm was a protective, enveloping weight over my low back, his hand resting on my ass—the clean one; the other was out to the side, dangling over the edge of the bed.
I don't know how long I lay there, barely able to draw breath for how overcome I was in that moment—so fully sated by orgasm, so filled with and consumed by love that it surely was oozing from my pores and leaking out of me.
I wept.
