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I could have died.
And it would have been happily.
Frantic movements sent her hips rocking, chasing her orgasm. She screamed out against my skin, my cock down her throat, affecting the pitch.
I wrapped her silky hair tightly in my fist and pushed my cock deeper into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat.
I was rougher than I needed to be.
I was too eager to get where I wanted to go.
Euphoria.
“Look what you do to me. You make me lose control. You can’t imagine how much I want my fingers in your tight cunt right now. Stretching you out and getting you ready to take this cock.”
Her voice hushed to a whimper against my skin, and her hand, coated in her own cum, moved to my cock to assist her other hand and create double the friction.
And I fucking blew into her mouth for the second fucking time, still thrusting as she sucked the cum out of me.
I couldn’t fucking breathe, and she could barely breathe around me, still swallowing me down as I slowly pulled out.
My fingers spread on the wall, taking my weight to stop my body from collapsing on top of her because if I did right now, if I got that close, our skin caressing each other, each curve and muscle, I’d be frantically searching for a way to get my cock between her legs.
She stood on shaky legs, appearing between me and the wall as I panted heavy breaths that made me need to turn away.
The sheen of my cum was still on her lips.
And fuck, I still wanted her.
Too fucking much, my cock hardening again as my hand reached her pelvis.
Taking a look at her face, I stopped dead.
Heavy breaths were falling from her mouth, too. Her straining heart was trying to keep up.
She was as ruined as I was.
But it was dangerous for her—potentially life-threatening.
So, I stopped, my hand retreating, tracing over the curve of her hips and up her waist to her smaller breast—the one I knew she didn’t like.
A flutter of breaths came out in a panic, and her tiny fingers—all ten of them—wrapped around my wrist.
Big eyes filled with tears, but none fell.
“It’s okay, baby.” My fingers pressed into her skin, caressing scarred flesh. My thumbpad moved over her nipple, and it peaked, more so on the bottom than the top, due to injury. I slid down her body, testing myself—torturing myself, for more than one reason. Not only was I the reason she was hurt and now forever uncomfortable in her body, but I was also a boob man.
And despite the scars, the dents, what looked to be some kind of burn as my thumb brushed over it, and the mottled skin that never set in the correct place, she was still my perfect woman.
Air filled her lungs, but none came out, her lips locking shut as mine pressed against her nipple.
The urge to suck her into my mouth was so fucking difficult to resist, but I left it as a kiss, loving and gentle but powerful enough to bring goosebumps to her skin.
I rose to my height, towering above her. My hand moved to her face, squishing her cheeks until they opened for a breath.
“You’re beautiful.”
My touch turned delicate against her skin, guiding her close to me. Our mouths touched, and she leaned into me when I kissed her again, her lips parting slightly.
