Immediately a spurt of pr**cum shot from his c**k against the little entrance. She felt it burn brighter. Her back arched as the tingle in her rear became hotter, deeper.
“Hell,” Del-Rey snarled as he eased against her, pressing slow and easy. So slow. So easy.
His c**k jerked as it spilled again, shooting into the opening he had created. The tingles turned into something more. Something that ached and burned and eased his way as the essence created a lubrication that made her even slicker, easier to penetrate.
Another. Another.
She was screaming his name as he stretched her, pressed inside her. His hands were hard on her hips, holding her still as his muscular legs pressed hers apart.
“Fuck. What the hell have you done to me?” He groaned as the fluid shot inside her again.
He shuddered behind her, his c**k jerking, and more filled her. He was sliding slow and easy inside her now, stretching her until she swore she was going to come from the pleasure-pain of that alone.
It was exquisite. It was more pleasure, more intensity, a naughty, thrilling sensation of submission and being dominated. Of complete trust and the need for a pleasure so extreme that the border between it and pain dissolved.
She was begging by the time he filled her. Tightening on him, trying to milk him deeper inside her, to suck all the pleasure from the act that she could bear.
“Baby.” He rose over her as he filled her, his arms catching his weight, his lips going to her neck.
Sensation tore through her as his lips found the mating mark, caressed it. The sensitivity there was almost too much to bear. He laved it with his tongue, sucked at it and slowly began thrusting, f**king inside her rear with deep, slow thrusts.
She hated slow. She bunched the blankets in her fists and screamed out at the need.
“Faster,” she cried out. “Harder.”
She needed faster and harder. Oh God, she needed to come. She was going to come, if he would just move.
“Anya, baby.” He kissed the mark as she stared back at his tightly clenched expression. “God. I’m trying here. Stay still, sweetheart.”
Stay still? Was he kidding?
Her hips writhed beneath him. It was agony, it was pleasure. It was so many sensations she wasn’t certain she would survive it.
“Now, dammit,” she cried. “Please, Del-Rey. Now. All of you, now.”
He pulled back. He meant to go slow. Del-Rey commanded himself to go slow. Slow and easy. But she was killing him. Clenching on him.
He clamped his lips on the mark, licked and sucked at it as he began to move. He could feel the spurts of pr**cum, the mating fluid that normally eased her snug, hot little pu**y but was now spilling into her rear, easing her there. She was burning tight around his dick, milking him, destroying him. One hand gripped her hip, the other found her hand.
Holding on to her, he f**ked her. Deep, powerful thrusts that sent an agony of pleasure sizzling up his spine. He wouldn’t last long. He was going to take her until she found her release. Only until then. He wasn’t going to find his own release here. The swelling mating knot was thick, hard. He wasn’t going to hurt her. Never again. His mate would never hurt again.
He worked inside her, fighting to push her over the edge as he teetered on it himself. His hips thrust, driving his c**k inside the snug channel, feeling her tighten, her throaty cries growing deeper. She was clenching, convulsing; she was screaming in orgasm, tightening on him as he fought to draw back.
Too close. Too close.
“Ah f**k!”
His teeth pierced her neck. He slammed in hard and felt his cum spilling, that additional swelling locking him inside her, spreading her farther until he swore he filled not just her rear, but that tight little pu**y as well.
Anya lost awareness. She felt him spurting inside her, her release catching her off guard. She felt him swell, lock into her, and amazingly, incredibly, she felt that swelling press against the thin tissue between her rear and her vagina. She felt stuffed with him. Filled from one end to the other as another explosion tore through her, shattering her mind as every nerve ending in her body pulsed in response.
She tried to scream his name, but she could only manage strangled cries. Her fingers locked with his, her teeth bit into his forearm, and another explosion rocked her.
She was lost within this pleasure, lost where she needed to be, surrounded by him, held and anchored by him as she flew, free as the wind, and shattered into an exhausted heap beneath him.
“My love,” he whispered.
“Hm. My love.” She kissed his arm, turned her head for the gentlest kiss he had ever bestowed upon her and grinned back at him drowsily. “Dare you to do it again later.”