Wrapping her legs around his hips, Storme fought to align her hips with his, to thrust against him, to experience the burning impalement before she went crazy for it.
"Styx, I don't know what you do to me," she moaned, her hand smoothing down his tight, hard stomach to the thick shaft beyond.
Her fingers didn't have a hope of wrapping around it. The shaft was too wide, too heavily veined and throbbing with power.
Stroking her fingers to the damp tip, Storme fought to pull enough of her senses together to keep from melting in a mass of pure sensation before he ever got around to f**king her.
"I know what ye do to me." Pulling back, he lifted her to his chest and strode to the living room. "Ye make me crazy for ye, Sugar. Ye make me forget everything but the pleasure ye bring me. Come, little Storme, give me this pleasure I need. I need it until I feel I'm burnin' inside for ye."
He moved to the couch, set her on her feet, turned her, then pressed her down until her knees hit the cushions. With his hand at the back of her shoulders, he pressed her over.
Storme trembled. She rested her folded arms against the arm of the couch before staring back at him nervously.
At any other time she would have protested. She would have never allowed him to take her like this, to come behind her undefended back.
"So f**kin' pretty." His hand smoothed down her spine, then to the curve of her bu**ocks.
The feel of his calloused fingertips stroking with demanding warmth sent her juices flowing from her pu**y. The inner muscles pulsed and throbbed as she pressed back, so eager, so desperate to feel him thrusting inside her she could barely stand it.
"Do it already," she demanded, her voice hoarse as his fingers slid between her thighs to test the slick wetness once again. "God, Styx, what have you done to me?"
"Loved ye well, lass. Ah hell, I'll always love ye well."
Did he realize what he had said? Storme felt her chest tighten, her heart aching as the swollen head of his c**k pressed between the swollen folds of her sex.
"Love me well." She couldn't believe she was demanding it. That she knew in her heart and soul that she was demanding more than the sex, more than the physical love he was always so ready to give her. "Oh God, Styx, I don't know if I can bear it."
He pressed inside, parting her, stretching her. She felt so tight, too snug for the width of the shaft easing inside her.
"Sweet Storme." He hovered over her, one hand gripping her hip, the other hand pressing to the arm of the couch as he began working his c**k slowly inside the clenched depths of her pu**y.
Each shallow thrust worked him farther inside the burning depths of her pu**y, as she felt the pleasure-pain of the muscles parting, stretching, accommodating the heated shaft as the bulging crest pulsed and throbbed inside her.
She could feel it. The flex of each pulse of blood thundering in his c**k seemed to echo inside her overstretched flesh.
Her head tossed, her nails clawed at the upholstery of the couch arm as she pressed back, fighting to take more, to force him to take possession of her before she went insane for it.
"Ah lass, how sweet and hot ye are," he groaned, his lips at her ear as she whimpered in rising pleasure. "Feel how tight ye are, lass. How ye grip my dick, sucking it inside your sweet little pu**y."
The clenching, uncontrollable tremors that shook her body seemed centered there in the muscles surrounding no more than a few inches of the thick flesh.
"Fuck me, Styx," she moaned in rising heat. "Oh God, please f**k me."
His hips jerked, and buried in deeper, his c**k throbbed as though he were only seconds from ejaculation.
"Storme, love," he groaned harshly, his hips pulling back, the next thrust harder, inches deeper. "Ye surround my dick the way I want ye to take my heart," he whispered at her ear. "Take me, Storme. Trust me, love."
Her eyes closed tight as she fought back the tears that wanted to flood them.
Dropping her head against the arm of the couch, she couldn't hold back the whimper, the desperate little cry that escaped her throat.
"Don't," she whispered, unable to remain silent. "Please, Styx. Please don't."
Don't ask for what she couldn't give. Don't make her choose. Don't make her betray herself before she could even figure out if that betrayal was for the best.
"Hell yes I will." His voice deepened as he pressed deeper, stronger inside her. He was taking her as though each thrust inside her, each burning impalement would somehow tie her closer to him.
And it did. She could feel it, though she couldn't understand it. Something had been tying them together from the start and she hadn't wanted to admit it.