"Tell me, little Storme. Tell me what you need."
"Oh God!" She couldn't handle it. She needed it so bad it was like an addiction.
"Fuck me, Styx."
"Ah, lass, then I'll no' be able to watch you stroke your wee clit. Soon, I promise."
She shook her head desperately as he rubbed the snug entrance to her pu**y, playing with it, stroking it as she arched closer, tried to force his fingers inside her.
"Is there not something I can do for you instead, love?"
She stared back at him, her tongue running over her lips as she gathered her courage.
"Fuck me, Styx," she moaned again. "With your fingers." Sensation speared her clit as she stroked it, as she spoke the need tearing through her. "Fill me. Please, please fill me."
A cry tore from her. Her hips jerked, arching high as one finger thrust deep and hard inside the sensitive muscles, parting them with a swift, fiery thrust of pure pleasure.
She was burning out of control.
As her fingers moved over her clit, stroking against the side of the tender bud, and her thighs spread wider, she gasped, "More. Styx, please. Please more."
She needed that stretching burn. She needed the extremity of the pleasure-pain she knew he could give her.
Shards of heat pierced her vagina, wrapped around her clit and sent the heated dampness of her arousal to coat his fingers as her hips writhed beneath their combined touch.
She wanted to beg, but she could barely breathe for the need. She wanted to scream at him . . .
"Do it," she groaned roughly. "Please, Styx. More."
The next thrust was brutally hot, filling her, giving her a small measure of that pure heat she was begging for as two fingers surged inside her.
"Oh God, yes!" Her fingers moved faster, harder against the tender bud of her clit as she felt waves of impending release beginning to rise inside her.
She was so close. She could feel the hard nub of her clit throbbing in need, the aching demand for orgasm tearing through her as she whimpered in distress.
Never had she been so close yet found it so difficult to find release. Eyes closed, lips parted, she moved her fingers over the ultra-sensitive bud of nerves as a moan of desperation slipped past her lips.
She couldn't do it.
Breathing hard, each uneven gasp a battle to draw in air, Storme fought to find release. It hovered just out of reach, a temptation, a promise of lightning-swift, brutal pleasure, if she could just push herself over the edge.
"Styx!" Her hips churned, thrusting up into each impalement of his fingers as she felt tears filling her eyes.
Each stroke inside her only built the agony higher.
"Please. Please, Styx ..." Her head tossed as her fingers fought to move faster, harder, against her clit. "I can't." Harsh and broken, the sound of her voice would have shocked her if she'd had the sense to understand the desperation in it. "Please. Please make me come ..."
Staring up at him, she tried to find her way past whatever held that final pleasure back. Each thrust of his fingers, each stroke of her own built the sensations until she felt as though she could barely breathe. Until nothing mattered, not even a breath, except the waves of ecstasy building inside her.
Staring up at him, lips parted, she whispered, "Please, please make me come."
A growl tore from his chest, and a second later he brushed her fingers aside only to replace her touch with the heated warmth and suckling pressure of his lips.
His tongue flicked with fiery heat over the tight bud of her clit, stroked, licked, and within seconds threw Storme into a release that had her fighting back a scream of pure rapture.
Arching, her thighs tight, tremors racing over her body she felt the fiery explosions tearing through her as he rose over her with a hungry groan.
Before the last shudders of completion raced through her, the feel of the broad, hot head of his c**k pressed between the slick folds of her pu**y and began a firm, demanding rocking motion that stretched her flesh and buried him, inch by inch, inside the trembling muscles as they tightened and gripped the hardened flesh.