He growled her name as he leaned back against the chair, sprawling across the stool and the chair cushion behind him. Her fingers stroked the thick shaft as his hands clenched in her hair, guiding her movements, showing her how to please him best.
He liked to feel her teeth raking gently along the crest. The way her tongue played with the bar piercing his flesh.
As she sucked his c**k head, her hands pushed at his pants, sliding them over his thighs, and pushing them down his legs.
There, now she could explore flesh she had been dying to touch. His scrotum was silky and smooth, only the faintest hint of silky hairs covering it. It tightened as she cupped it in her palm then slid her nails over it.
"Grace," the growl in his voice was warning. "Leave me control, sweetheart. Don't push this." Oh, a dare.
She opened her eyes, lifting them to meet his as her lips lifted from the throbbing crest and began to slide down the straining shaft.
He was breathing hard now, his hands gripping the arms of the chair rather than her hair.
"What control?" she whispered. "I don't have any, why should you?" She wanted that loss of control. She wanted the wild man she glimpsed in his eyes, the bad boy she knew he was. Her lips moved lower, her tongue licking until she came to the tight, silky flesh of the sac below.
"Dammit. Grace," he cursed, but he arched to her, allowing her the freedom to lick over the tight flesh, to feel the straining tension there.
As she watched, a small spurt of pr**cum spilled from the slit on his c**k head. He growled again, a thick rumbling sound of hunger that had her heart racing in excitement. She used the slick fluid to ease the stroking of her hand along the shaft, feeling it flex beneath her fingers as her lips investigated his balls and her tongue flickered over the silken, tight flesh.
"You don't know what you're doing," Matthias snarled. "What you'll cause." The fingers of her other hand moved lower, beneath the tense flesh of his scrotum and found the ultra-sensitive flesh beneath. She couldn't have anticipated his reaction. She was only stroking the flesh between his balls and his anus, but he jerked, his hands gripping her shoulders and pulling her back as he jackknifed from the chair.
"I warned you," he bit out, his voice tight and hard, wicked with a sensual threat. "You want to play games, mate. Let me show you what happens when you do."
She had somehow released more than she had bargained for. Within seconds she found herself bent over the stool, Matthias behind her, and before she could stop him, his lips and tongue were moving along the cleft of her rear.
She should have been frightened, terrified. She had never been touched there, refusing to allow any previous lovers that freedom.
But Matthias wasn't asking for anything. His tongue was ravenous, licking and stroking, as his hands parted the full curves and he delved lower.
"Matthias!" She cried out his name, trying to lift herself from the wickedness of the caress, the stroke of his tongue over the entrance to her rear. Another stroke, then an entrance so shocking she began to shudder.
"I've been dying for this," he groaned behind her, his hands caressing over her ass as he rose, his c**k tucking against the entrance.
"It's not going to fit," she gasped.
At the same time, she felt the first blast of the preseminal fluid explode from the tip of his c**k and his c**k sinking into the tight orifice.
Grace tried to writhe beneath him, but his hands held her in place, his c**k parting her flesh marginally as the forbidden channel began to burn.
Sweet God, what was he doing to her? What was in the silky fluid that both lubricated and eased the passage she knew he was preparing to take?
With each spurt, he was able to sink deeper inside her, stretching the unbreached entrance, burning it with a pleasure/pain that had her screaming beneath him.
"I love your ass." His hands kneaded the curves. "I would watch you when you walk, my c**k so damned hard I thought I would die, imagining this. Imagining taking you here, feeling you accept me. Submit to me."
Submit.
That was it. Grace could feel it in him. The dominance and power he had kept hidden from her. He had let her make nearly every decision in their relationship until now. He was ensuring his dominance now. Reinforcing the fact that he might give up a few things for her, but he still controlled this. He controlled her response. He controlled her sexuality.
She arched before him now, feeling another heated spurt of the fluid that relaxed and eased, even as it intensified sensation. She could feel the burn inside her anus, demanding more, demanding the hard stretching, the submission required to take him in.
"You're mine!" The declaration was made with a rough demand. "Say it, Grace. Mine."
"Yours," she panted. She wasn't about to argue. Not now. Not when he could stop and take the incredible sensations away from her.
He was thick and hard, hot and demanding, and with the aid of the slick, forceful jets of heated fluid, he was taking her, stretching her, forging inside her until his scrotum was pressed into the wet heat of her pu**y, and his c**k was fully embedded in her rear.
Then he was moving. He didn't pause. He didn't wait for her to make sense of the pleasure that mixed with the pain or the burning need and heated resistance.