|Subject: Chapter 224 - Part 4 (18 and above)
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Date Posted: Wednesday, February 22, 07:15:04am
In reply to:
's message, "Dreams in the Dark (chapters 221--?)" on Monday, February 13, 07:24:07am
She discovered this in the next second, to her thorough delight and relief, found herself landing firmly on her back again--Michael's cock pressing deep, starting to ride her without pity; she let out a gasp of thanks, adoring him--knowing the truth. It was only when he loved her like the world was going to end that either of them felt wholly sane.
He had his hands on her shoulders now, her legs spread wide by his body, as his thick cock penetrated her tight depths in full again and again. Each thrust claimed her, driving roughly into her core; she parted her thighs ever further, begging on a whimper. But there was never such a thing as too much.
Her hands had returned to his shoulders, as she arched into the heavy strokes of his wide length, gasping with every one. And she was so thankful for the truth. She had been a little afraid--not only because of the multiple traumas of the past few days, but also because of her pregnancy--that he would be gentler with her now. It wasn't what she wanted. While she had appreciated his slow, almost endless, introduction to such pleasures the first time they had made love--had so needed that approach--she had since learned the joy of simply diving into her partner's soul without remorse, leaving no desire untouched. She hated it when he held anything back from her--would never do such a thing in return; she closed her eyes, as his hard length stroked the tight need into a gasping desperation somewhere deep inside her form. She was very glad that nothing had changed.
She had no fears anymore, therefore, knew she was healthy, that her child was safe. Besides, she had never been the delicate sort. She was sure that, had it been necessary, Michael would have been far more gentle with her during these months, but he clearly understood the truth. She needed her lover, not some dim substitute; his hands went to her thighs. And she couldn't have thanked him more, had she actually had the words.
She was already lost to him, then, as he parted her, holding her legs down to the bed, the fury of his adoring need clear on his face--his wide cock giving her short, deep, fast thrusts, making the growing light within her start to bloom. Dear God, it was good--was just too much. In another second, she was sure it would overwhelm her; her gaze was adoring. But she loved him for such treatment far too much to express.
She was whimpering, as his own words began--surprising and comforting her. "You're mine, Nikita." The spiraling heat within her was making her whole soul start to quake, but his possessive eyes only forced the sensation that much deeper. His hands held her thighs apart, his huge, heavy cock beating hard and fast against her core--making her start to scream, her depths begging for more. "Take it from me."
Oh, Jesus. Her head was back, her eyes closed, as her husband played her body's every weakness like the expert he was. Already, his heavy strokes were making that bright, inner need tauten and singe, her screams on the rise. But she just couldn't have enough. "Please, more," she groaned, pleading gaze finding his. "More, Michael."
Christ, he was caught, felt insane--wasn't certain what to do. She felt so good that his whole body was shaking above hers, his thundering shaft aching for ever more of her sweet form. Still, if he truly unleashed how feral, how dangerous, he felt at the moment, he was afraid that he would damage her--especially in her current condition. And, given all she had been through, that was one heartache she just wouldn't be able to bear.
Oh, no. She saw his fears, knew them in an instant--and had to get him past them, if she wanted to live; she wouldn't survive, if he left her like this. The fact that he wouldn't either was one they had both temporarily forgotten.
Both her hands were on his face, her gaze begging, as she felt his touch spasm slightly on her inner thighs, his cock hitting her more deeply; just that sensation was almost too good, made her want to beg. "Please. Oh, Michael." Just her words, her touch, made his thrusts move more quickly, leaving her moaning in need; her tongue stroked over her lips without conscious thought. "I'm yours," she begged, her eyes desperate. "Please, more."
It was that request--and the dropping of one of her hands to his waist, pulling him into her--that ended his sanity, all concerns for her health burning away. After all, it was his need to heal her, to always keep her as his own, which had made tonight's path inevitable; his heart thumped, rhythm pausing momentarily. If he failed her here. . .
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