I pushed his hands away, giggling breathily as I nudged at him, meaning for him to scoot further up the bed.
“Juneau, I—” he started, scooting up so his head was on the pile of pillows.
I touched his lips, pushing his hands up over his head. “You had your turn. This is my turn.”
“Juneau—”
I bent over him, the erect tips of my breasts draping against him, palmed the rough stubble of his cheek, and then kissed him. My kiss wasn’t the scorching, wild thing his was—my kiss was slow, delicate, soft, probing.
I kept my palm on his cheek, feeling it move under my hand as our tongues danced, and I let my other delve between us to grasp at his erection. As we kissed, as my lips searched his with soft, damp eagerness, I felt him throb harder in my fingers, I felt him burgeon, grow harder yet, larger yet. He was slightly thicker in the middle than at the head or base.
His hand descended, resting on my spine, and then carving down to curl possessively over my ass, and then his touch continued, delving under to find my damp seam, pressing his fingers against my clit. I gasped into the kiss at his touch, my caress of his cock halting as I shuddered under his touch. I nearly lost myself in it, then, wildness lacing into the kiss, hunger setting me afire as his fingers pressed and circled, touching just gently enough, fiddling and tweaking my aching clit. I groaned, my hips jutting, pushing, finding the rhythm as he touched me, our kiss synching to it, tongue probing and withdrawing to the rhythm of his touch, of my fist pulsing and sliding around him.
“No…” I whispered, breaking away. I laughed as I pulled back. “Bad boy. You almost had me, there.”
“Couldn’t help it.”
I sidled downward, kissing his chest, his diaphragm, his side…I ran my tongue down one groove of his V-cut and then the other. I ached, throbbed—he’d gotten me moments from the edge before I’d remembered myself.
I glanced up at him as I tossed my braid aside and lay my cheek on his belly. “I told you—my turn.”
His eyes blazed. “Juneau—”
I let a sultry grin curve my lips. “My…turn.”
“Fuck.” He let his head sink back down to the pillows, but then immediately curled upward in a crunch, neck craned, to watch, one hand hooked behind his head. “Juneau, you do that—”
I stroked him slowly, one-handed, feeling the veins and ripples of his flesh stutter in my palm. “I know exactly what will happen, Remington.” I smirked. “Maybe that’s what I want.”
He closed his eyes briefly, and then opened them again, watching as I kissed his belly, and then his hip bone, and then, slowly, I opened my mouth, extended my tongue, and licked the plump head of his cock—tasting his flesh, his essence. “Ohhhh fuck, Juneau.”
“Fuck…what?” I murmured. “Fuck…me?”
“Uh-huh,” he grunted, struggling to formulate words as he watched me tease him, tonguing his shaft, kissing the side of it. “Fuck your mouth. Fuck your tits. Fuck that sweet tight pussy…”
Apparently he’d found his words.
“In that order?” I said, laughing as he just grunted at my suggestion.
“I won’t last that long,” he muttered.
“Doesn’t have to happen all at once you know,” I said, in between flicking my tongue against the thick, heavy shaft. “You could take your time. Let me fuck you with my mouth, let me fuck you with my tits…and then let you fuck me until I scream.”
He flexed his hips, seeking my mouth. “Holy shit, Juneau. You know what it does to me when you talk like that?”
I ran my tongue over the tip, tasting his musk. “Yeah, I can taste what it does to you.”
“Such a dirty girl. I had no idea.”
I kissed the very tip, and then kissed it again, letting my lips split over him a tiny bit, swirling my tongue against his tangy, salty, leaking head. “I didn’t either.”
“I bring it out of you. I turn you into a dirty girl.”
“Something about you just…makes me crazy.” I shrugged. “I don’t know what it is, or how to describe it, I just know I can’t fight it.”
His eyes flicked open and he watched, unblinking, as I continued to kiss his hot, throbbing cock, slowly, gradually taking more and more of him in my mouth with each wet kiss. I clutched him in both hands, holding him away, bringing him to my mouth, stretching him away.
I let my hands move, then, needing to feel him throb in my hands, feel him pulse and shift and thrust. Faster, then, letting my lips reach further and further down his enormous, straining cock. He was huffing between clenched teeth, eyes narrowed to slits, watching, his abs flexing. He let out a grunt, and his hips pulsed, pushing him into my mouth—he groaned and forced his butt back down to the bed, forcing himself to stillness.
I cupped one hand around his tight, heavy sac, gently caressing them, stroking them with my thumb, massaging and rolling them in my hand, using my other to continue stroking his length just under my chin, keeping my mouth locked around him, swirling and flicking my tongue against him as he filled my mouth and then receded.
“Ohhh god—” Jis voice was a rough rasp. “Fuck…ohhh fuck, June—Juneau. God, June.” I didn’t correct his use of the shortened version of my name, something I allowed very few people to do. But from his lips, like that, it was beautiful. It was delicate, a whimper of my name—excuse the pun, but it was an involuntary ejaculation, an affectionate form of my name torn from him.
I felt him throbbing in my hand, his balls tensing, his cock pulsing against my lips.
Soon.
He growled, a purely animal sound, and with a wrenching heave, he tore himself away from me. Leaped with primal agility, to stand beside the bed, sweat beading on his skin, every muscle tensed and standing out hard, his cock bobbing against his belly, gleaming wetly.
“Rem, I—”
He yanked open my bedside table drawer, correctly guessing where I would keep things. He found a strip of condoms, ripped one free from the strip and tore it open with his teeth, sliding the ring free and rolling it onto himself in two smooth strokes; he pawed through the drawer, found my vibrator.
“Remington, what are you—”
He knelt on the bed, and his rough, powerful hand gripped my hip and flipped me to my back. “Had your turn, sweetheart.”
“I wanted to—”
“First time you make me come, June, it won’t be in your mouth.” He levered over me, turning on the vibrator to its highest setting. “First time you make me come, you’re gonna be screaming my name. You wanna make me come in your mouth, babe, you’ll have plenty of opportunity. I’ll let you and ask for more. But this first time?” He touched the humming tip of the vibrator to my clit, and I jumped, shrieked, clapping a hand over my mouth. “It’s for us. It ain’t for you or for me—it’s for us, sweetheart.”
“For…for us?” I reached for him, curling my fingers around his latex-sheathed cock, guiding him to me.
He nudged my opening, and I let my thighs fall apart wider. “For us.”
My eyes slid closed as I felt him press against my tight slit. “God, Rem. Please.”
He circled the tip of the vibrator against my clit, setting my hips into motion, flexing, thrusting, questing for him as the maddening intensity of the humming, buzzing device against my sensitive clit sent me to the edge. “Come for me, June.”
I shrieked breathlessly through clenched teeth, writhing against the vibrator, feeling his cock sliding against me. Control or leverage or power was out the window—it didn’t matter, and never did, I realized. This was beyond that.
For us? What did that mean?
I couldn’t fathom it, had no space to ponder it as I exploded, coming after mere seconds of the vibrating touch. I cried out, not caring who may hear, needing only to feel him, to have more of him.
“Rem—please,” I said, not caring how desperate I sounded—because I was desperate.
He pressed himself to me—I gripped him in one hand, taking the vibrator from him with the o
“Juneau…” he growled. “I fucking need you.”
I writhed, thrusting, whimpering. “Take me, Rem. Please, please take me. I’m yours—right now, I’m yours.” I couldn’t begin to fathom why those words came out of my mouth.
I am no one’s but my own—ever.
Yet, in that moment, it was utterly true: right then, I was his.
He sank slowly into me, inch by inch, carefully. Watching. He sank into me as I came, and I felt myself pulsing around him as he slid into me, gradually filling me. Each inch split me wider and wider; each inch made me ache, made the stretching ring of my pussy burn with the strain of accepting his unbelievable size. I whimpered, moaned…I cared not what noises I made or how loud they were—all I could do was manipulate the vibrator to bring me further pleasure, to make me come again, or keep coming, I wasn’t sure which. All I knew was Rem, his huge hard body above me, all around me, the wedge of his waist pressing between my thighs, his shredded abs tensed and flexing as he pushed into me slowly, slowly…so slowly. His shoulders were mountains, his chest a cliff, his arms thick and rippling as his hands began to roam my body, caressing the tender silk of my inner thighs, palming my trembling breasts, tracing the splayed flower of my pussy.
I kept the vibrator against myself, playing with the setting, pulling it back in intensity so I could focus on him, on the delicious ache of him inside me, on the fullness of him. With my other hand, I touched him. Delighted in the bulge of his biceps and the flat slab of his pecs, tracing the ripples of his stomach and cupping the tensed hardness of his ass.
It felt like a thousand delirious years as he pushed into me, until finally he was fully impaled in me, his hips against mine. Once there, he sank forward, a groan slipping from him. “Fuck, June—so goddamn tight.”
“Don’t—don’t stop.”
He rumbled a hoarse laugh. “Haven’t even started yet, sweetheart.” He caressed my breast, and then my cheek. “Eyes open, babe. Watch us.”
I realized my eyes were closed only then, and I opened them. Watched as he withdrew as slowly as he’d thrust in. The vibrator hummed, buzzed, pushing me closer and closer to another orgasm. I cried out—or just flat out cried, perhaps—as the edge washed over me. As the climax hit, I turned the vibrator up all the way, and then I was coming again, and I knew I was screaming but there was a hot rushing roar in my ears and a blasting inferno inside me, a tangling tornado of heat and pressure. I felt myself clenching in waves around him, squeezing his cock so hard he grunted—and then he began to move.
He had no choice. I watched him succumb, watched him lose himself in me as much as I was already lost in him. I writhed through the climax, and he met me there, pushing into me, gripping my hips in both hands and pulling me toward him.
I screamed again, this time gritting my teeth and screaming through clenched jaws as the climax ripped me to pieces, his thrusting cock hitting every nerve ending I had and setting them on fire, the thick shaft splitting me open and searing against a place inside me that turned the orgasm into something else, into something more than just mere release—a clenching of body and soul and heart and mind, my clit blasted with searing spasms like bolts of lightning and my channel racked and detonated. I tossed the vibrator aside, no longer needing it, needing only my fingers and his cock—and then I needed nothing but him, one climax tumbling and twisting and shearing into a second and third…or just one, long, undulating orgasm.
He was moving, then, thrusting, driving.
I felt him nearing his own edge, knew it in the way his rhythm stuttered.
Instead of driving through it, he growled in his chest and yanked out of me abruptly. “Not ready for it to be over, yet,” he snarled.
“Me—me neither,” I gasped. “I want more.”
His grin was hot and ravenous. “More? You’ve come half a dozen times already, you greedy girl.”
“I want more.” I reached for him, clutching at his swaying cock, the latex dripping with my need. “I want everything you can give me. I want you to come.”
He grabbed me by the hips and flipped me, physically tossing me onto my belly; he yanked my hips upward, grabbing the vibrator and sinking to his belly behind me. He slid the vibrator into me and his tongue flicked against me, and I flinched, whimpering as I was launched into immediate bliss. I couldn’t help but grind against him, feeling the vibrator slide in and out of me—it was a pale and sorry imitation of the real thing, nowhere near as large as Rem, and I needed him, not this, but I was lost in the rush of it.
Dirty girl, he’d said.
God, he had no idea how dirty and sinful he made me want to be.
I’ve never known need like this, never known the rush of lust to be so all-powerful, so deliciously potent. I wanted anything and everything with this man, and I knew he could make everything perfect, make me come a million different ways.
Yet, in that moment, all I wanted was to feel him lose control. To feel him go weak. To bring him to that, to be the one that could weaken him and make him go limp and to cradle him against me in his most vulnerable moment.
Instead, I knelt on the bed, ass in the air, and felt him lashing my clit with his tongue, fucking the vibrator in and out of me, sending me surging to the edge.
“Rem—” I breathed, and then lost the ability to speak as ecstasy lanced through me.
And yet again, at the moment I reached the very peak of my climax, I felt him lift up, felt the vibrator slide out of me, leaving me clenching around nothing, writhing against nothing, crying out as he touched the humming device to my clit. I wanted to tell him I didn’t want to come any more, that all I wanted was to feel him explode inside me, but I couldn’t—I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted to come and come and come forever, as long as he would keep touching me and kissing me and licking me and fingering me and—
Oh god—
And thrusting deep inside me as I came, pushing all the way in with one smooth, fast movement. My low, guttural moan ripped apart abruptly, shifting into a hoarse cry of surprised ecstasy as he filled me, stretched me…
And began fucking.
Oh, such bliss—such glory—such wild, wicked, sinful perfection. I felt him withdraw, slide in. Shift his position, shuffling his knees closer so his quads brushed flush against the backs of my thighs and his hips pressed into my ass cheeks. His hands carved over my ass, and then spread me apart as he drove in…
Once. Hard.
His hips slapped loudly against my ass, and I cried out, a shrill, breathless cry.
Again. Once…hard. A quick, rough thrust, followed by his hands caressing my ass ever so gently, lovingly, tenderly, possessively—and then he gripped my ass cheeks in a rough squeeze and slammed into me, his grunt laced over my whimper.
“Yes…” I breathed, as he repeated this. “Rem—yes. Yes.”
“You like this?” he murmured, caressing, petting, and then thrusting. Fucking.
“God…yes,” I rasped. “So much. Don’t stop.”
He kneaded my buttocks, petted them, caressed them in slow circles, patted them. Then, without warning, he smacked my ass. Not hard, just a playful little whack. “How about that?” he asked, spanking me again, a little harder. “You like that?”
“I—I don’t know,” I admitted, truthfully. “Keep doing it and I’ll let…ohhh god, oh god—I’ll let you know.”
He laughed, thrusting slowly. “You’ll let me know.”
I tried to come up with another witty piece of snark in reply, but he fucked it out of me, slamming his cock into me and slapping my ass cheek in unison, my genius reply turned into a breathless whimper.
Again, a slow wet glide as he pulled out, his hand smoothing and caressing, and then a hard thrust and a smack.
And each time, he smacked a little harder, left side, right side, alternating. My ass burned at first, but then as his thrusts grew faster, closer together and his smacks grew harder, the burning pushed through me, searing into my core and turning to heat, turning to need, turning to an orgasm barreling through me like a hurricane. I felt it hit and couldn’t stop it, could only bury my face in the mattress and let myself scream.
“Rem…” I murmured. “What are you doing to me?”
“Everything.”
His hands palmed my ass, no longer spanking, just holding me as he thrust, pulling me backward into him.
Harder, then. Faster. More, and more. Moving, thrusting, pulling me backward by the hips, our bodies slapping together. I could feel his heavy balls tapping against me as he moved, and even that, for some reason, was unbearably erotic. The grunt of his exertion was erotic. The way he gripped my hips and then palmed my butt as if he couldn’t decide which he wanted more was erotic.
“Rem…” I breathed his name again. “Come for me, Rem.”
He grunted. “Soon, baby. I’m close.”
I felt him nearing the edge, and I knew something was missing.
I couldn’t think straight to figure out what. I just knew I needed something, something from him, something more to make this every dream and fantasy I’ve ever had come true.
Right as I felt him shuddering and stuttering to the edge, he stopped.
Pulled out.
“Rem!” I cried, aching for him, needing his completion. He was rough, demanding, and ungentle as he flipped me back over, abruptly enough and roughly enough that I gasped in shock. “What are you—”
Then, gentling, he took me by the hand and pulled me upright as he lay down on his back. Instinctively, without thought, I knew what he wanted, and it was exactly what I needed—what I hadn’t known I needed.
I climbed astride him, knelt above him, fondling his massive, gleaming erection, stroking him as I guided him to me. I pressed him to my seam, split myself open with his cock, and sank down onto him. No hesitation, no drawing it out—I slipped him against my opening and impaled myself on him hard and fast, crying out.
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