Page 29 of Almost Rotten

“Ty,” I warn, but it comes out more like a plea.

He licks me again.

My pussy spasms, the little shock wave making me jolt.

As if he felt my response, he pulls my hips down once more, opens his mouth wide, and sucks my nipple and piercing hard.

“Ty,” I cry out. “Let me go.”

He doesn’t.

Thank fuck.

I don’t know why I’m wasting my breath with meager protests.

The way he’s staring up into my eyes, lavishing my breast, rocking up against my clit over and over again? There’s only one way this ends.

My orgasm is unavoidable.

He and I are inevitable.

When he switches sides, squeezing one breast while sucking hard on the other, my legs quake.

Heat shoots up my limbs. Sparks fly and fall and catch on all the broken bits of kindling they can find, lighting up every cell in my body.

“Stop,” I cry as I crest over the edge, silently begging him not to listen.

He won’t. I’m counting on it.

“Stop, stop, stop,” I chant, each word punctuated by the roll of my hips as my greedy cunt seeks more.

This isn’t enough.

There’s too much fabric between us.

I want him everywhere.

“Stop,” I cry out one final time.

He presses on my shoulders again, fucking up in a rapid, rhythmless desperation.

I detonate, and in slow motion, my world crumbles in on itself.

Stars dance behind my eyelids. Moons, too. An entire galaxy forms.

Maybe it’s habit, or maybe it’s because he’s right here with me. Either way, it’s him—his face, his unyielding gaze, with his hard-set jaw and his perpetual scowl—that takes center stage behind my closed eyelids.

Just like he always does.

Just like it was always meant to be.

He’s the nebula, surrounded by cosmic stardust.

He’s my world: My lifeline. My sanctuary. My home.

“Open those eyes,” he grits out.

Without hesitation, I do.