| Subject: Chapter 288 - Part 4 (18 and above) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, April 30, 11:13:34am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark continued (273>)" on Monday, March 05, 07:03:06am
She was still shivering, still overcome just from the incredible feeling of him inside her--but she was even more so by his absolute trust in and desire for her. She knew her husband, after all. With no other woman, would he allow himself to be so utterly vulnerable. With no other woman, would he allow himself to be so overwhelmed that he could barely hold on; her hand stroked over his hair, her kiss soft on his ear, as she cherished him completely--ignoring his plea. "I don't mind," she whispered. Even without the obvious fact that he would be wild to please her as many times as possible in the day to come, she was far too happy to be wanted by him this much to ever question his need.
Still, it was her sweet understanding which finally undid him--giving him the strength to go on as well as unleashing something nearly demented within his soul, an utterly feral desire for her joy. He looked back to her at last, gaze a fury, and was highly pleased by her amazed little gasp, one hand on her soft face. "Don't you dare, Nikita." He had found his strength, pulled most of the way back out of her tempting depths, savoring her groan of need. "Don't dare question my ability to please you." He saw her eyes widen, saw all the wonder and desire shining there so clearly, his smile becoming even more feral. A second later, his hips slammed toward her--making her choke back her scream for more, clearly trying not to make a scene for their audience outside; he really didn't give a damn. He waited just until he recaptured her gaze, his own on fire. "Don't dare question that I love you again."
She never had, of course, but was far too lost to his sweet skills in pleasing her to try to analyze his words. He seemed to have lost his mind, had abandoned every sense of caution in the joy he took from her form. And all she really knew was his new madness, the way he had started stroking into her tender depths, loving her like there was nothing else on earth; the whimpers began, her fingers clenched deep in his shoulder, knowing the truth. There would just never be any other man like him on earth.
He made damn sure she remembered this in the next few moments, left her incapable of comprehending anything but him--but there was no reason why she would ever want to ponder anything else. Just the fact that it had been so long, that she had been wanting and missing him so deeply, was enough to drive her crazy--but the incredible way he loved her blurred out everything else. Every deep, thorough stroke of his cock far inside her was making her gasp and moan; every one made all the aching need and pleasure pull deep and hot within her core--threatening to explode into absolute ecstasy at any second. It only made her whimpering increase, was almost too good to survive--her lover utterly unhinged. But there was no way that she could ever imagine wanting to stop him for a second.
She didn't, her whole body pleading for more, her hips held out to beg him never to even pause; it was just way too good, her eyes closed, lost to anything else. She couldn't even remember that, a few seconds ago, she had been encouraging him to take his own pleasure alone--had no mind left to realize that this was the lovely punishment for such unselfishness, her head tossing against the robe and the wall, as her groans begged for more. That thick crown of his shaft was molding the deepest part of her very-willing body to his incredible size, over and over again--his hefty, sweet cock's rhythm almost unbearably feral against the sweetest, most desperate spot within that absolute heart of her form; her whimpers were turning into gasping cries, every connection of that fabulous crown within her hungry core sending aching shockwaves of heat deep inside her and out into her blood. It nearly had her screaming. But she had no idea just how good it was going to get.
He didn't either, really, was entirely lost to her--his desperation for her form, for her ecstasy, unending. From the moment she had dared to think that her pleasure was less important, had questioned his ability to bring her joy, he had snapped; it was probably for the best. Because, now, both of them were going to be brought over the edge as one.
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