Page 71 of Librarian

With that final order, he shoves my skirt higher still, until it bunches around my waist. His warm hands caress the exposed skin of my ass, each one a heated brand, but they’re gone too soon, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

The sound of a belt being undone is background noise, my focus consumed by the fingers skating over my hip, thenbetween my legs, tracing the seam of my pussy. They circle my clit once, then shift higher, pushing into my soaked sex… scissoring as he pumps them in and out. Once. Twice. Too soon, he withdraws.

His cock is there before I can whine a complaint.

I’m not prepared. The foreplay was minimal, but the care with which he inches inside me tells me he’s more than aware of that. I expect him to press deeper, to fill me, but his shallow thrusts never falter. He’s fucking me with just the tip of his cock, sliding the mushroom head over the most sensitive part of my channel with devastating precision.

“Watch,” he chides, and I realise my head has dropped to rest on the dresser.

I lift my eyes to the mirror, but it’s hard to focus on my glazed expression. Instead, I watch him as he stares down at the place where we’re joined with flushed cheeks and a possessive tilt to his lips.

One of his dark hands is on my shoulder, thumb stroking just below the chain of my necklace; the other is on my hip, holding me in place when I might’ve rocked against him, trying to persuade him to go deeper.

I barely recognise myself. The woman in his arms is alive. Vibrant. Her face is soft with pleasure, lips parted as her breasts heave in tiny, tormented little pants. Both of us are glowing in the warm light of the room, our skin shining with sweat.

“Just like this,” he says. “I want you to come knowing I don’t even need to fill you up or play with your swollen little clit. You might own my fucking soul, baby girl, but your body is mine, and you’ll take whatever pleasure I give you, won’t you?”

I find myself nodding. My agreement catches in my throat and emerges as a moan. He might not be touching my clit, but his words seem to wrap around it, sparking the nerves there until my pussy ripples.

“Fuck. Keep strangling the head of my cock like that.”

“Deeper,” I whine, but he shushes me.

“Nope. Just like this.”

“Dakari.”

“Shhh, baby girl. Just feel.”

I’m going to die. I can feel my orgasm building into something catastrophic with every micro-thrust. In the mirror, my eyes are hooded, and my tongue darts out to wet my suddenly too-dry lips. All the moisture in my body has fled south where it drips down the inside of my thighs, adding to the wet noises of our lovemaking.

Then Dakari’s lips fall to my shoulder, and he sucks.

That tiny spark of stimulation was all I needed. I fly apart, orgasm ripping through my abdomen as my breasts flush with heat.

As if that’s what he was waiting for, he seats himself fully in one devastating thrust.

“Dakari!” I scream, pussy still clenching, fighting the invasion and drawing him deeper at the same time.

He chuckles, but it’s a breathless sound. His thrusts have gone from shallow and controlled to deep and powerful. “You didn’t think I was going to stop at one, did you?”

No. I should’ve realised as much. For him, half the pleasure of sex seems to be discovering how many times he can push me over the edge.

I’m not complaining. I don’t have the air to do so, even if I wanted to. My stomach is pressed into the dresser. The new pace, coupled with the stimulation directly over my G-spot, has my first orgasm rolling into the second, my head dropping under the force of it.

Fingers twine into the hair at the base of my skull, keeping me upright and staring at my face in the mirror.

“Play with your clit.”

I try to shake my head, but I can’t with his hand in my hair. “Too much.”

His thumb rubs at my nape, encouraging, soothing. “Do it for me.”

I can’t deny him anything. Shifting my weight so I’m braced against the wood with one arm, my right hand travels down, fingers strumming the neglected bud, occasionally brushing the slick heat of his shaft as he hammers into me.

I’m too sensitive, and the extra stimulation unravels me. My breath stutters, and my soul feels like it’s trying to escape my body. I keep the pressure light, but it doesn’t help.

This new pleasure has claws, and it shreds me from the inside out as it swells and swells like a great wave.