Page 130 of Theta

But no rushing.

He carves his hands over my shoulders and slides them down my arms, back up, down my sides, grips my hips and then cups my tits. "Story, fuck. I need to—"

I lean over him, crush my breasts between us, kiss him. "I know what you need. Just let me give it to you, baby. I’ve got you.”

His grip on my hips tightens. "I'm barely keeping it together."

I sit upright and then kneel tall, just the tip of him notched inside me. "Killy, my love." I roll my hips in wide circles, stirring his cock around, teasing him. "Say please."

"Please!"

"Beg me to fuck you."

"Please, Story. Please fuck me."

"Keep begging." I keep circling, keep just the tip of him inside me, torturing us both.

"Please, dear god please, baby. I'm fucking—I'm losing my mind. I need you. I need to come. I need…I need you, baby. Please." He isn’t exaggerating or playing around or telling me what I want to hear—his desperation is very real.

I'm alight with a fiery whirlwind of emotions—furious, all-consuming need; deep, ravenous, feral lust; a love so bright and so hot it's scorching my soul from the inside out.

I show it all to him. Let it all explode through me, unfiltered and unrestrained.

I slam down on him hard, fast, and without warning. He cries out, a loud and savage shout of shock and ecstasy. “Jesus, Story!" His hands rake up my back and skim back down, and then he grabs my ass and squeezes it. "Fuck, you feel…"

"Tell me!"

"Like heaven. Like home. I don't—I don’t fucking know." He sounds shaken. "Story, god. I need to—"

I lift, swirl my hips in wide circles around his cock-head again, and then slam down, just as hard. "You need what, baby?"

"I need to move."

I shake my head. "Oh no. No way. You got to make me come five times. You're gonna lay there and let me do what I want with you until I give you permission to move."

He grins. "Yes ma'am."

The unfeigned joy on his face is everything. He's not threatened that I’ve taken over—he loves it. He seizes my hips as I grind on him, pushing my hips back and forth to work him deeper and deeper, and I hunch forward as he fills me, splitting me apart with the insane girth of his cock. He grips my ass cheeks in his hands and pulls them apart, and I take him deeper—we both groan again.

I'm only torturing myself. There's nothing I want more in this moment than to feel him let go, to feel him fill me. I know we have all the time we could ever want, but I refuse to rush this. Not when we've both waited so fucking long.

"Oh my fucking god, Killy," I breathe, shaking with the need to quit screwing around and just fuck my man to completion. "So fucking big."

"Gonna give me an ego problem, you keep telling me that."

"Good. A cock as magnificent as yours?" I lift to kneel tall, reach down and cup his balls, drag my fingers along his slick shaft. "You should have an ego problem."

He moans as I touch him. "Story, my fucking god. You're killing me. I'm so fucking close. It's taking all I’ve got to hold back." His voice is raw and shaking. "Please, honey. Have mercy. Please. Fuck me. Please fuck me. I'm begging you, Story. Please, please fuck me."

My grin is wild and feral. "I thought you'd never ask."

I collapse forward and hook my arms under his neck and nip his chin and then kiss his ear, keeping him buried as deep as he can go. And then I kiss him. Hard. All tongue and teeth, all savage need and unquenched fervor.

I nip his earlobe. Squeeze his cock with my vaginal muscles, and I get a grunt of surprise from him. “You can move now,” I tell him.

His answering snarl is the only possible response. It's primal, a predator's growl. He snags my hair in his fist and jerks my head back, rough, demanding. Takes my mouth in a hard, furious kiss. Keeps that grip on my hair, keeps kissing me like he'll die if he doesn't. And with his other hand, he grips my ass cheek, growling into my mouth as he drives his hips against mine in a small, questing thrust; I groan raggedly as a little burst of lightning sizzles through me.

He does it again, and the lightning is hotter, brighter.