Twisted

17: After Parte, After Parte

"Slow down!" I cry out, tears of pleasure escaping my eyes.

With one last hard stroke, I feel him pull out as he lets go of my hands. My shoulder joint aches from the release as I struggle to catch my breath and adjust to comfort.

"We're just getting started," his voice laced with promise, and in a heartbeat, he unzips my gown.

The cool breeze from the air conditioner caresses my now-exposed back as he proceeds to unhook my bra, his condom-wrapped member dangling as he turns me around to face him.

Lying down with my back now pressed against the table, our eyes lock in a fierce gaze as I assist him in removing my dress and bra, which he carelessly tosses to the floor. His gaze briefly deviates from my face, fixating on my breasts. "They're so perfect," he murmurs dreamily, his grip on my thighs tightening as he pulls me closer.

Leaning in, he takes my left nipple into his mouth, the warmth of his mouth and tongue around the bud hardens it. He's generous and of course, doesn't want the right nipple to feel left out, so one of his hands caresses it, squeezing so hard — if I was a few shades lighter— his fingerprints will be traced.

Just as I start to revel in the pleasure, his mouth abandons the current bud, leaving it exposed to the cool air, causing a delightful clash with the wetness,  causing my nipple to grow even harder in response. With a mischievous grin, he moves his attention to the other nipple, teasing and tormenting it with his expert lips and tongue.

As he continues to please my, now hypersensitive, buds, alternating between left and right, his free hand glides downward, his fingers tracing into my soaking core, slowly seeking out my clit. "It's an ocean down here," He playfully remarks, evoking both a chuckle and a playful bicep hit from me.

An uncontrolled moan escapes my mouth when he slides two of his fingers inside me, one after the other. "Deji!" I gasp, but he instantly silences me with a hasty, passionate kiss, his audacity fueling my desire even further.

His thumb takes over the task of stroking my clit, adding a delicious layer of sensation, whilst his fingers expertly thrust in and out, beckoning my impending climax.

With one of my nipples still trapped in the sensuous captivity of his mouth, and his other hand working its magic on my neglected bud, my body is a symphony of pleasure. I'm wriggling on the table, struggling to handle the waves of ecstasy building upon me.

"Oh, my God!" I scream as my walls constrict, and just as I'm about to succumb to a mind-blowing orgasm... he stops, leaving me on the cliff of release.

Excuse me?

I watch in disbelief as he steps back, taking off his shirt to reveal his sculpted physique... Did this man cut me off my orgasm to take off his shirt?

"Why did you stop?" I manage to whisper, my voice barely audible amidst the surging desire coursing through my veins. "Oladeji, why'd you stop?"

He remains silent, his eyes filled with raw hunger as he seizes me by the thigh, pulling me irresistibly close. With a controlled gentleness, he enters me, filling my wet walls with his throbbing, pulsating length. I throw my head back, a loud moan escaping my lips. This feels good. He expertly readjusts his grip under my knees, spreading my legs apart as he resumes passionately thrusting inside me.

Our eyes lock, and his facial expression says it all, he loves this as much as I do.

As he moves in and out of me, the sound of each thrust colliding with my wetness fills the air like a well-prepared bowl of mac-and-cheese being stirred.

I avert my gaze from his eyes. "Harder," I demand, throwing my head backward; the urge to reach my orgasm faster consuming me, but he doesn't listen, and he continues to move at a slow, deliberate pace, teasing me with every stroke.