Thirty-Three

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My fingers draw circles across Chris' rising chest.

He's asleep. His eyelids, tipped with dark lashes, are firmly closed and his face is relaxed. A far cry from the scowl normally adoring his handsome features.

Shaved and smooth, his chest expands and detracts as he breathes, filling his new lungs with air before forcing it back out again. Even his systems are at rest. There's little activity fizzling through our mental link, swirling and twirling in a new level of appreciation, but something else hovers on the horizon, too.

Markers, meant to scope out my mental health. They flitter along the edges of my subconscious, eagerly twisting and turning in my emotions. Even if he has it set to search for fear, regret or sadness, he'll find none of the above.

Last night was better than I could have asked or hoped for.

I'll never forget it. Far better than my quick and clumsy first time, Chris blew through my expectations without breaking a sweat. When I shift my hips, the soreness left behind from his cock twinges inside of me. Gasping, I press myself closer, tangling my legs within his.

He's a pleaser.

Every time he made me come, his gaze would consume me hungrily before his mouth would seal with mine. Sweat, bodywash and the heady scent of sex tangle with my senses. They bring the unbidden memories back full force.

His hands... tracing every inch of me, and his mouth following. My back aches from arching for him. My nails are a broken mess, torn from scratching down his back and ripping into the sheets.

Like a movie, the flashes of last night play as I slip my eyes shut and drop my fingers between my legs. Heat bunches at the base of my belly, brought on by the scorching pumping of blood and the promised oblivion my fingers and blended thoughts will bring. Quietly, I sink a hand to my pussy, teasing myself.

Chris remains still and asleep, suspending in careful rest while my legs split open. I'm swollen, but wet from his tongue, fingers and cock, but I want more. It would be cruel to wake him up when he desperately needs sleep. Those dark circles under his eyes won't go away without it.

To save him the trouble, I scoot away from him, careful to watch for the arms around my waist. My legs sprawl out, fanning as far as they can before I bend my knees and pull them toward me. Then I find my clit with my middle finger.

A shiver shatters through my soul, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to keep the moan budding in my throat at bay. Slowly, I massage it in gentle circles. Closing my eyes, I arch my back and let my mind baptize me in last night's sin.

His eyes kept mine prisoner as he fed his cock inside of me. Thicker, harder and longer than I'd ever seen, I can't lie away the fear that plagued me when it stretched me open. But, Chris is an attentive lover and an even better teacher.

The soft pad of his thumb kept the tension alive in my frame and tightening my stomach, drawing circles across the sensitive bud until my mouth dropped open and my name left his lips. When my third orgasm crashed over me, I was full—so full. And at his complete mercy.

Trapped underneath his hulking frame, the wall at my head, the headboard to the left, and the footboard to the right—I was a woman under his control. But fuck... I love it. I'd take being where I was any day and any time.

My fingers speed up, lost in the breath of passion we'd shared.

With determined strokes, he fucked me.

The whine of his hips, well practiced and in control, dragged whimpers and praise from the depths of my soul. Before long, his hand found its way around my throat, keeping my flat to the sheets for his perusal. Sweat clung to my skin and hair, drifting my collarbone and down the valley of my breasts.

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