each crevice and curve. He moaned, his body stiffening, and I tasted pre-cum.
So delicious. How had I not appreciated the sticky saltiness before?
“Fuck, Aoife, fuck,” he ground out, and one hand gently cupped my head and the other grabbed a hold of the sheet.
I knew he wanted to grab my head. Wanted to fuck my mouth. We were rough together, and he didn’t treat me like I was fragile. But now? I was like glass in his hands and though I loved him for it, I longed for the time when he could do what he wanted—what I wanted—to me.
Slurping him down like he was my favorite soft serve, I tormented him by grabbing his balls and rubbing them in my palm. Each time I felt his cock twitch like he was going to cum, I twisted them gently and tugged down. Every time I did it, he swore, and his fingertips dug into my skull just a little bit harder as the rocking of his hips grew jerkier with need.
“Fuck, baby, please. Please, Aoife,” he demanded, his tone robbing the words of his pleas. I loved that about him. Always so fucking arrogant, this man. My man.
I took him as deep as I could in this position and swallowed around him as I gently released his balls from my grip.
“Oh fuck,” he spat, sounding anything but pleasured as his cock jerked in my mouth and he pelted me with his seed.
The first time he’d done this to me, I remembered being disgusted by his taste. Now? I swallowed every drop without hesitation.
His panting breaths sounded thready in the quiet room and I slowly released his shaft from my mouth. Gripping him again, I sucked at the tip, cleaning him off and dipping my tongue to make sure I got every last drop of his cum.
He shivered and bit off, “Fuck, Aoife, no. Enough.”
I smiled, content I’d pleasured him, and rested my head on his lower belly.
Was I tired? Yeah. I was. Sore? That too. But I was even more achy between my thighs.
What I wouldn’t do for my vibrator right about now. Why had I tossed them out when I’d hauled my stuff from my apartment to Finn’s, no, our penthouse?
His hands drifted through my hair, stroking the strands and rubbing them between his fingers. “Are you feeling—”
I cut him off, “I’m feeling like the cat who got the cream.”
He snorted at my gentle laugh. “Well, I don’t know about the cat part, but you sure got the cream.”
“Lapped it all up like a good little girl, too, didn’t I?” The dark hid my knowing smile—I knew how those words would affect him.
“How’s that greedy pussy of mine?” he rasped, and I closed my eyes, wondering if I was glowing with happiness at his question.
“It needs you. I need you. Deep inside me.” There was no spare flesh on his stomach, but I managed to nip him.
“Soon, Aoife. Soon.” He shuddered. “Don’t lie. How does your abdomen feel?”
I thought about it. The ache came from being in an awkward position more than anything, because I hadn’t had to move all that much to suck him off. Initially, the change in pressure had made me uncomfortable, but I wasn’t lying when I said, “Fine.”
“Fuck,” he whispered, surprising me. Then, he swallowed. “If we prop you up on the pillows…” Those eight words had fire racing through my veins. I heard my heart in my ears and I almost missed what he said, “…would you try to keep as still as you can?”
“I promise to try.”
That was about as good as I could do.
I rubbed my thighs together and closed my eyes as the ache gathered there, and spread through my body like a warm glow. I felt like I was lit up inside, and at the prospect of his touch? It was a wonder I wasn’t floating.
“I’m a fucking moron for doing this,” he mumbled under his breath, but I noticed his cock was hard once more as he stacked pillows up at the head of the bed, then helped me prop myself against them so I didn’t have any pressure on my wound.
I was aching again, a slight sweat on my brow from all the jostling around, but my cunt was slick and wet and ready for whatever he was going to do to me.
He climbed off the bed, then surprising me further, I heard the nightstand drawer open. For a second, I thought he was grabbing a condom,