Page 101 of Salt Kiss
She jolts, fighting me, a panicked whine in her throat as I test the muscled rim with my tongue, but I dig my fingers in and keep her spread, returning to her core. I swirl my tongue as deep into her channel as I can, and then I find her clit and polish it with the tip of my tongue.
Her knees are buckled and she’s panting when I stand up and wipe my mouth with the back of my arm.
“I want you to sit on my face,” I say, shoving the waistband of my pants down and pulling out my dick. “I want to trap you there, with my hands on your hips, and my mouth wherever I want it, and I want to feel your clit on my tongue. I want to suck it. I want you to come on my face so I can taste it.” I wrap my fingers around my aching length and shudder at my own touch.
I’m not going to last long, I think. I need to make this count, make her climax again.
God, the thought of her fluttering on my cock, impaled and squirming...
“Tristan,” she says, looking back over her shoulder. Her eyes are burning in the dark. “I need it now.”
“Fuck, honey, me too.” And I fit my crown to the slick cove of her cunt, hissing as our two needs meet. The center of her is so hot, so wet, and the sight of my tip pressing into such a pretty hole—
“Oh,” she whimpers. “Oh God.”
Oh Godis right. I’m having to jam my way in, the muscles in my thighs and ass and stomach working to push me into her wet little glove, and she’s stretching around me, each new inch I take inside of her like some kind of primal victory.
But it’s toil, sweet toil, to wedge inside, and I have to find her hips to hold her steady as I do it. Each stroke is a velvet caress on my flesh, sending ticklish sparks of heat up my organ and into my belly, into my balls, which are embarrassingly tight. Ready to breed.
And I’m not even all the way inside her yet.
“You feel so good,” I groan. “Fuck, I’m not going to make it.”
“Come inside,” she whispers. “I want to know it’s because of me.”
I’m finally all the way in, and I look down at where we’re joined. My cock swells as I appreciate the sight: her rosy skin wrapped around my thick intrusion, clinging as I withdraw a glistening inch and then shove back in.
Her pretty asshole. Her firm ass.
The fabric of her sumptuous dress rucked up around her hips.
“Okay,” I finally say. “I’ll come inside.”
I let go of every good thing in me, and I follow my instinct to rut. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t done this before, it doesn’t matter that it’s ridiculously brief, because I’m going to fuck her hole until I come, and it’s every fantasy I’ve ever been ashamed to have.
The only thing that would make it better is if someone were going to come inside me too.
Fuck, this is it.
I pump faster, harder, crueler, like she’s something I found and pinned down for this very purpose, and she’s whimpering, moaning, trying to push back to meet my thrusts and failing since I still have her hips in my hand.
“Here it comes,” I groan, going even faster. “It’s coming, it’s coming.”
The climax claws up my thighs, chews through my belly. It surges through my groin with tight, vicious waves of heat, making me grunt with the agony of it, the incredible, beautiful agony of releasing into the bride currently bent over a chapel pew.
She’s moaning too, a low, musical hum, and I’m shivering as I fill her up. As I give her all of my need, all of my lust, all of this new beast inside me. All of my twin curses, her and Mark both.
It’s slick and every pulse of my dick makes it slicker, until I feel it running down my balls and smearing over my lap. But I don’t stop until she’s had every single bit of it. Every last fucking drop.
I pull out slowly, and she makes a wounded noise. She didn’t come, and I’m going to fix that, but first—
I look down at what I’ve done, at the mess I’ve made of her. Cum is everywhere, wet and crude, and dripping out of her in gleaming pearls. I gather it with my fingers and push it back inside her, the sight unbelievably pornographic.
I shudder as I do it, my fingers moving faster and faster, and now she’s rocking back to meet me. “I want to come again,” she’s panting, “please, please, please—”
If my cock wanted a break, it doesn’t anymore. It’s already raring back to life with my semen and her arousal drying on the hot skin. My erection juts lewdly between my hips as I take a final look—as I memorize the sight, knowing I might never have it again—and then I’m grabbing her, hauling her up and pushing her to the floor.
She knows what I want—or maybe it’s what she wants too—and she’s already gathering her skirt up to her hips and spreading her thighs. I’m greeted by glistening pink, by my seed still visible there.
