Page 133 of Black Light: Cured

glorious sensation.

Master Aiden quickens the movements of his fingers, but still continues the same easy pace as he

fucks me into an orgasm and keeps going as it rolls through me. The pleasure keeps going, never

stopping. Even as I wail from the intensity, he doesn’t let up. Again, another orgasm crashes over me

and then again.

It doesn’t stop. I’m helpless, powerless, unable to get away from his insistent fingers and

pistoning cock. I’m wrung out, limp, lying there as stars continue to burst behind my eyes. Eventually,

his fingers stutter, breaking the never-ending orgasm long enough that I can finally get a full breath.

His cock jerks inside me, swelling, pulsing. I feel every inch of him through my poor, abused

tissues, and somehow it sparks yet another tremor rocking through me, making my body quiver as I lie

there feeling everything and nothing at the same time.

Tears prick my eyes, but not from sadness, never that. It’s incomprehensible, indescribable. Every

inch of my skin feels alive. Again, he slides his hand along my back and keeps it there as I come back

down to earth.

Never did I think sex could be this way.

Still unwilling to move, I lie there as he drapes a blanket over me and starts to tidy up.

I must have drifted off, because the next thing I know, I’m being carried to his car, his arms firmly

wrapped around me. His heart sounds so loud against my ear, but I snuggle into his chest, pressing

even closer against the steady lub-dub that threatens to lull me back to sleep.

“All right, my little miracle worker,” he whispers against my hair. “Let’s get you home.”

CHAPTER 17

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MY HEART FLUTTERS A BIT AS I PACK A FEW THINGS IN AN OVERNIGHT BAG. I’VE BEEN AT MASTER

Aiden’s place before, but this time, it’s for more than one night—it’s for a week. Excited, I shimmy a

bit as I toss another shirt onto the ever-growing pile of things to sort through.

Glancing down at my phone, I frown when I see his name pop up on my screen. I’m not supposed

to be there for another few hours. Skimming through the text, my heart sinks. Poor guy is coming down

with something and doesn’t want me there until he’s better, which makes sense, but as his submissive,

his girlfriend, I feel the need to at least help a little.