Page 50 of Theta

"I'm not," I answer. "I'm exploring."

She takes my face in her hands and grips hard, fixing me with a wild, demanding glare. "Killian Harris, I'm going to snap in a second if you don't fucking touch me."

I grin. "Well, when you put it like that."

I trace my fingertip down the seam of her pussy, and she flinches, tucking her tailbone away from my touch and then relaxing. "Oh god," she whimpers. "Please."

"Relax," I murmur. "No begging necessary." I pause. "Although…it is fucking hot as hell when you plead."

“You want me to beg? I'll beg. Anything you want, Killy. Just please, fucking please, I—I'm so horny it hurts. I need to come."

I trace down her seam again, and then again—and the third time, I slip my finger inside her. She's so drenched with need, my finger slicks deep inside her tight hot channel with ease, and I cannot believe this is real, this happening. I'm touching Story Binyamin’s pussy. She's begging me to make her come, begging me to fuck her, to touch her.

"So fucking wet," I whisper.

"For you."

I fill her with a second finger, but she's too tight for a third. "So fucking tight."

"For you," she repeats.

I suckle her nipple into my mouth and flatten it between tongue and roof, eliciting a soft cry, and at the same time, I drive my two fingers deep, until my knuckles catch against her skin. I curl my fingers, and she cries out again, this time loud and shrill—she claps a hand over her own mouth and keens through gritted teeth.

“I’ve just gotten started, Story."

She shakes her head, moaning. "Killy…oh god. More. I need…oh god. I need everything. I need to come. Please help me come."

I thrust my fingers in and out a few times, and her hips buck, and she whines again, hand still tight over her mouth. "God, I wish you could scream."

Her only response is to bite down on the second knuckle of her index fingers and snarl like a trapped wildcat, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut tight; I tear my gaze away, reluctantly, from the sight of her glistening pussy swallowing my fingers. Her eyes snap open and fix on mine, mad and wild and spitting the fury of long-pent need finally given freedom. "Killy—" she breaks off with a gasp as I curl my fingers inside her again, scraping them against the inside of her sweetness. "Do that again."

I do, and she throws her head back, biting her lip to muffle another breathless wail.

Her head jerks forward again, gaze blazing even hotter, and she cups my cheeks, toys with my hair, and then clutches my head, pushes me down. "Killian?"

I let her push me. "Story?"

"Put your mouth on me. Eat my pussy. Now.” She pushes, guides, and now I'm sitting on my heels and wrapping my arms around the outside of her thighs to pull them as far apart as they'll go, and I flick my tongue up her seam. "Ohfuck. God, yes. Yes, Killy. Do you have any fucking clue how many times I’ve masturbated while picturing you, right there on your knees between my thighs, eating my pussy?"

"Tell me," I growl, and then press my lips to her sex and thrust my tongue inside her.

"Everyohhhhhhhmyfuckinggod—every fucking day for years."

"What stopped it?"

She shakes her head. "No more talking." She pulls me against her, thrusts. "Just make me come."

I laugh—not out of mirth but out of pure, unadulterated arousal and joy and wild, primal glee. And no little amount of love. "Anything you want," I answer.

"I can’t have what I want," she snaps. "What I want is your cock inside me. What I want,” and here she sounds almost angry, "is for you to fucking ruin me." She softens, tips my face up to lock eyes with me. "For now, this will do." She accompanies this, spoken in a soft, loving whisper, with a tug of her hand around the back of my head, urging me to her pussy once more.

I go eagerly.

She tastes fucking amazing.

I slick my tongue up her seam a few times, and then drill it into her clit, and she bucks, wailing between gritted teeth into her bicep. God, so incredibly responsive. It makes me crazy for her, makes me want to see what noises I can drag out of her, how hard I can make her thrash, how loud I can make her scream.

I slide the warm weight of her thick, heavy thighs around my neck, resting them on my shoulders, and she greedily curls them in, pulling me closer. I carve my hands up her stomach and find her tits, groaning into her skin as I fill my hands with the silky heat of them, the soft weight of them, the incredible fullness of them.