Page 41 of Dare Me
I slip my free hand under her and push my fingers into her drenched cunt. She immediately bucks against my mouth, sinking farther down onto them. I curl them inside her and pulse against her G-spot. She seems to lose herself in the feeling, rocking and grinding all while gasping for air.
“Oh god,” she cries, and her thighs begin to shake, her movements becoming deep and desperate. I continue to stroke and press on the spot that drives her wild. “Fuck, Lochlan. Fuuuck, I’m gonna come.” Her moans are sharp and heady as her legs clamp down around my head and she squirts all over my tongue. Warm liquid floods my mouth and face.
Her cum is slightly salty and erotic as hell. She exhales deeply and slides off my chin, her body soft and loose. “That was fucking amazing.” She sighs, blissed out and pleased.
Moving down my body, she rubs her ass against my hard cock. She gives me a drunken, half-lidded look, biting her lip while she rises onto her knees and takes my shaft in her hand. My blood hammers. “Gonna ride my cock like you rode my tongue? Always so greedy, aren’t you, réalta?”
She gives me a cocky smirk and sinks down on me. “Fuck,” I groan deep and ragged, my head digging back into the sand. Her pussy is fucking sin incarnate. Heaven and hell wrapped into one.
Arching her back, she folds forward and clasps my head between her palms. She tilts it to the side and licks a long, obscene path through her cum. Her pussy clenches when she tastes herself, and I swear to god, I’m going to combust into pure ether.
Once she leans back and begins riding me, I bend my knees and plant my heels to thrust up into her. She palms my chest for support, her mouth falling open on one continuous gasp. Sweat beads my brow and fire pumps through my veins at feeling her around me, on top of me.
I palm her tits, and she unties her top. The skimpy fabric falls away and I groan, shaking my head in disbelief. “Goddamn. And here I was thinking you couldn’t possibly get any hotter.” Gold metal pierces her nipples; dainty flowers made of pearls dot the end of each bar.
I thumb the jewelry and she laughs. “How did you not see them in the shower?”
I’m baffled. “I have no fucking idea.”
I wrap my arms around her back and sit up so I can suck one of her breasts into my mouth.
“Yesss.” She hums in delight and weaves her fingers into my hair, holding me close while I gently pluck and bite her studded nipple.
Our moans share space as she slowly grinds up and down my cock while I lick and kiss her tits, neck, chest. I want to intimately know every inch of skin. The taste, the smell, the feel. I want to know exactly what she likes and how she wants it.
My orgasm comes upon me like a slow building wave. My breathing gets choppy, and she clutches me tighter, kissing my mouth like she could drown in me. I grind out, “Where do you want me, baby?”
She strokes her fingers behind my ears and whispers against my lips, “Come inside me.”
“Fuck, please. Please,” I plead, suddenly weak and absolutely wrecked with the need to do just that.
She keeps gently tracing the shell of my ear and the sensitive spot behind it. “I want it so bad.”
I bury my face into her neck as I come with a strangled groan and feverish waves of pleasure. I cling to her warm body, wrapped up in a lightheaded combination of complete relaxation and buzzing energy.
She kisses my sweaty temple, running her fingers through my hair, and I sigh into her skin. “I think I’m fucking addicted to you, réalta.”
Before this trip, I saw Stella stare down a man twice her size with a megaphone outside a women’s health clinic. Her sister, who works there, gets harassed daily coming and going by bigoted, anti-abortion protesters. Stella stood up to this man and whittled him down with cutting words. He withered under her passion and ire.
I’ve seen her break up countless bar fights, once even smashing a bottle over a man’s head. I’ve seen her so mad, she’s rendered speechless, and I’ve seen her so mad that the things that came out of her mouth could rival a sailor.
I’ve seen her furious, irate, and every shade of anger in between.
But never have I seen her like this.
The fifth time her hair gets caught on one of the scraggly bushes we are crawling and climbing through on our way to the top of the cliff, I no longer think her threats to castrate me are hyperbolic.
“If this is a trail, then I am a fucking mermaid—ow, you son of a bitch!” she hollers, and I look behind me to see her picking a thorn from a branch out of her hand.
“I said we could turn around,” I point out, and I’m pretty sure the glare she gives me would shrivel a weaker man’s balls.
“One, I don’t need your permission to turn around.” She rests her hands on her knees and takes a big breath. “Two, we were already halfway up, so we might as well continue. And three, this view better be worth it. After this hell, I want to see God.” She huffs.
I chuckle and wiggle my eyebrows. “I can arrange that.”
“Goddamn it.” She exhales, annoyed.
“Hey, you walked right into that one,” I shoot back and continue walking up the rugged hillside.