Page 66 of A Gold Medal in Love

I regret nothing.

Pulling her hips up while I lower my face, I suction my mouth onto her cunt, beginning to eat her from behind on all of this ice. I fuck my tongue in and out of her hole as she squirms feebly,trained enough by now to know that she needs to still herself as much as she’s able when such intense pleasure overtakes her.

I drink her juices over and over, lapping her up like it’s my own Olympic event. I’m moaning into her core, delightedly eating at my favorite gourmet restaurant—three Michelin stars for Imani Gray.

She screams out into the room as she comes for a second time, and I lick her through the aftershocks, my own eyes nearly rolling back into my head at feeling her orgasm.

Flipping her over, I quickly land a hard blow onto her thigh, my hand feeling the sting of good impact, before I insert my fingers back into her. This time, I use my palm to grind against what I’m sure is a highly sensitive clit at this point.

“No, no, no. Please, Sir, no more,” Imani pants.

“No? Why not? No one has even discovered us yet,” I laugh, delighting in both her resistance and her fear.

“Shitshitshit. Can’t—take—any—more,” Imani barely gets out, her back arching beautifully as I move in and out of her.

“I don’t know, Cupcake. Time to find out how many times you can come before you hit your limit. Doesn’t that seem fun?” I accent my words by curling my fingers into the crook of her G-spot, immediately making her screech and shake in response.

“No, Sir,” Imani weakly responds, while her body vibrates with the need for release.

“Good thing you’re not in charge,” I explain, fucking her through the squirting I’ve just dragged out of her. Then I stuff my sopping fingers into her mouth. “Suck,” I order, and I don’t wait for her to obey before I use my spare hand to lift her body to mine so I can taste the fruits of my labor.

Imani is a glorious puddle, having made one of herself and the freshly slick surface she lies upon. Good thing I thought ahead and paid off everyone who helped me act this roleplay out—it’s trade knowledge what a deviant I am, so no one batted aneye. Instead, they simply agreed and pocketed their money. It’s nice when everything works out.

Focusing on painting into Imani’s clit with intense oral pressure this time, my bratty girl is rewarded (but really, who is rewarding whom?) with another intense explosion.

After eating her cum, I swap my fingers and mouth so that I’m fucking her with my hand while feeding her the taste of her with my lips on hers.

Imani moves swiftly to wrap her whole body around mine like an octopus, pressing our bodies so close I feel her rapid heartbeat against mine.

When I feel like I’ve worshiped her mouth adequately, I pull back to look her deeply in her spaced-out eyes. “I love you, Imani Gray,” I breathe with ardor.

I watch dewy drops emerge and drift slowly down her rich brown skin. “Forever?” She pleads.

“Forever, and then some,” I agree easily, slowing my fingers to move into her reverently, my thumb sweeping across her button.

Imani shudders. “Not—slow,” she protests.

“Mhm. Yes, slow. You’ve been very bad lately,” I remind her. “It’s not enough that someone might catch us, or that I want to fuck you so hard you’re absolutely wrung out with pleasure. I’m going to make love to you, too, oh wife of mine.”

“Worst—spouse—ever,” Imani glares at me, but she’s obstructed by her pants and moans that are interspersed throughout.

“Too late to annul. You’ll have to settle for filing for divorce. You can tell the judge I loved you too hard,” I grin, leaning down to bite a crescent into her shoulder.

“I’ll—say—too—hard—too—painful,” Imani cries, attempting the pretense of refusing my love even four years after we became a couple.

I smile lovingly down at her as I insert another finger into her sex. “Objection, your honor. Plaintiff is a masochist.”

Fresh tears flow into her twisted locs. “Prove it.”

“I think I’m proving it right now, Cupcake. Also, the plaintiff loves the defendant,” I point out while her cum streams onto my wrist.

Smiling and sated, Imani searches my eyes, then nods. “True. Love you—forever,” she agrees.

“There’s my good girl,” I praise her, leaning down to lick her tears away. “What about one more?” I ask, referring to the ongoing fucking between the sentiment.

“Okay,” Imani agrees dreamily.

If all the fight has gone out of her, it’s not nearly as fun. But I meant what I said—I’ll worship her until she safes out or is too gone to do so.

For today.

For forever.

THE END