"Oh, God, Matthias." She never called him Matt. He liked that. He wasn't a Matt. He was Matthias. It was the name he had chose for himself, the name he preferred, and she never used anything else.
"Yes." She stretched beneath him again, her hips rolling, pressing his tongue deeper inside the clenching muscles of her cunt. "Lick me there. Right there."
She was vocal. He liked the sounds of her passion, the feel of it. And he liked knowing she enjoyed his tongue. He licked as she pleaded, caressing into tender tissue as she gasped then cried out for more.
"Your taste," he groaned as he pulled back, licked the outer folds once again, and then caught the spill of sweet liquid from the opening of her pu**y. "So sweet, Grace. Your pu**y is like nectar. Soft and sweet and addictive."
He lifted his head again, his tongue curling around her clit, as he pressed two fingers inside the grasping depths of her pu**y.
She was shaking in his arms, shuddering. Each muscle of her body was drawn tight, and her pu**y was so snug he was suddenly thankful for the unique hormones that would prepare her for him. He couldn't hurt her, the thought of hurting her destroyed him.
"Matthias. Oh God, Matthias, what you do to me," she cried out hoarsely, as he drew her clit into his mouth.
She was close to orgasm. He could feel it pounding in her clit, in the tender muscles of her pu**y and knew within seconds she would explode beneath him. He wanted it. He needed it. Sex had never been like this. This hot, this desperate. The need for her pleasure overriding the need even for his own. When it came, growls tore from his own chest. Her clitoris, that delicate little nub of flesh expanded, swelled further, and the sweetest taste fell from it, as he felt her vagina tighten and pulse forth more of her slick juices.
The taste of her clitoral response was incredible. Slight. Fresh. New. As though no other man had drawn it forth before.
She was screaming his name. He could hear it, distantly, feel it vibrating through his soul, as this unique taste tempted his tongue. And Matthias knew he would never be satisfied, never be tempted to taste another woman again. Because nothing could ever be this good again.
***
GRACE couldn't breathe, she couldn't draw enough oxygen into her lungs, couldn't seem to find the instinct to force it in, as everything, conscious and subconscious, centered on the orgasm imploding inside her.
She shook her head desperately, fighting for air, but she couldn't get enough. Her eyes opened wide, her chest straining as the resulting panic caused the breath to still in her chest. She had warned him. Overexcitement. It happened every time.
"Easy, Grace." Matthias came over her, holding himself above her, one hand easing from her stomach to between her br**sts with a gentle, caressing movement. "It's okay, my love. Slow and easy."
"Matthias," she gasped, feeling his fingers lower to massage her diaphragm.
"It's okay, Grace," he soothed her tenderly, his lips lowering to her neck and pressing against the flesh there in a soft, heated kiss. "Relax, love. It will ease." Her hands were clenched in his hair, tight. It had to be hurting, but there was no strain in his voice, no attempt to loosen them.
"You're so sweet, so responsive," he whispered deeply. "I won't let you come to harm. I swear it." His palm eased the horrible tightness, relaxing her, making breathing easier. As she drew sweet, clear air into her lungs, her breath caught again.
Oh God. His c**k was poised at the entrance to her vagina, parting her folds, thick and hard. The shudders that raced through his body coincided with each, deep spurt of heated fluid that erupted from it. She could feel it heating her inner flesh, doing something so odd, relaxing it, yet sensitizing it further.
"What ?" She stared back at him in shock.
"It's preseminal fluid," he groaned in her ear. "Hormonal. It eases the tender flesh inside, makes penetration easier. Sweet God, Grace." He shuddered. "I need you now. Now ." His lips lowered to her shoulder, as he began to ease inside her.
The pressure, the heat, was incredible. White hot tingles filled her pu**y, causing her to lift to him, desperate to still the little fingers of sensation that dug into her muscles. He stretched her. Then stretched her more. She could feel her flesh parting, burning with a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Or was it pain so intense it merged with pleasure?
"Matthias," she gasped his name as he worked his engorged crest slowly inside her.
"It's okay, Grace." The hand that had been stroking below her chest now moved to enclose a swollen breast. "Slow and easy. I promise. I'll take you slow and easy." She heard the desperation in his voice, the need to ease into her rather than ravish her. But she heard the hunger as well. He was burning as hot as she, his body shuddering with the same force that was trembling through hers.
He was thick, hard, and heavy, and she needed more. Grace lifted to him, working her hips closer, rolling them, taking the shaft deeper, as a groan ripped from his throat and his hand clamped on her hip.
"Easy," he snarled.
"You go easy," she panted, lowering her head to nip his neck demandingly. "I don't want easy." His hips jerked, burying another hard inch inside her and stretching her with burning intensity.
"God yes." Her neck arched, her hips rolling again. "Fuck me, Matthias. Like I dream."
"Can't hurt you." He was the one fighting to breathe now. "Easy, Grace." She twisted, digging her heels into the bed and lifted closer again. Her eyes went wide, and the blood thundering through her system went wild. Another hard blast of the pr**cum, and the sensations burning inside her increased. Her pu**y rippled around his cock, flexed, spasmed.
"Hell's fire, woman," he bit out. "Don't do that."
It happened again. His hips jerked, and with a snarl he buried inside her, full length, the thick shaft overfilling her, the engorged head pressing demandingly against her cervix. And it wasn't enough. She needed strokes. She needed taking. She needed