Page 18 of Deep Feelings & Shallow Graves

Blake

She’s standing there in nothing but a pair of tiny little panties and I’m supposed to what? Function? Speak English? Solve math?

I can’t stop staring. I think my jaw might actually be hanging open. There are entire sermons I could give on the curve of her waist, the slope of her tits, the way her nipples tighten like they know I’m looking.

Jesus. Fuck. Jesus.

And then she says, “You’re allowed to want me. You already have me.”

My body moves before my brain catches up, hands on her waist, mouth on hers, desperate. I kiss her like I’ve been starving. Because I have. For this. For her. For the chance to touch her without holding back.

I walk her backward until the backs of her knees hit the bed, and she lets herself fall back with this soft laugh that makes my knees damn near buckle.

And then I drop to mine.

She stares down at me.

“I need to taste you.” My voice is hoarse. Almost ashamed of how badly I mean it. “Please. I’ve thought about it so many times I’m not even sure it’s real until I do it.”

She goes still. Lips parted. And then she nods and spreads her legs for me like she’s giving me the fucking moon.

I press kisses to her thighs first. I want to take my time. I want to learn every twitch and gasp. She smells like skin and heat and something sweet. Her panties are soaked and when I kiss over them, she jerks.

“Blake,” she breathes.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

Yes ma’am.

I hook my fingers in the waistband and drag them down slow, watching the way the fabric peels away from her, revealing slick skin and flushed lips and, fuck me, she’s so wet.

I flatten my tongue against her and her whole body jumps. She fists the sheets and moans like she’s never been touched there before. I want to make her forget every other name but mine.

I lick her again and then focus on her clit, circling with the tip of my tongue while I slide one hand under her thigh and the other to her entrance. She gasps when I push a finger inside.

Her hips rock. She’s making the prettiest sounds I’ve ever heard and I know I should take my time, but I’m greedy. I want to feel her fall apart on my mouth. I want to keep her here until she’s wrung out and dazed and begging for my cock.

“Blake, I’m, oh, fuck, don’t stop.”

I don’t. I suck her clit, press in with a second finger, and curl them. Her whole body goes taut, thighs squeezing my head like a vice. I ride it out with her, licking her through it, fingers slow and steady until she’s whimpering from overstimulation and tugging me up.

Her eyes are wild. Her cheeks are flushed. She looks at me like I hung the stars with my tongue.

“You okay?” I ask again, voice broken.

She laughs, breathless. “I might never walk again. You proud of yourself?”

“Little bit.” I kiss her.

She moans into it, probably tasting herself on my tongue, and that does something to me.

I grind against her thigh without thinking. My cock’s hard enough to ache and I know I should slow down, give her a second, but she hooks her leg around my waist and pulls.

“Now, Blake. Now. I want to feel you.”

“Yeah?” I settle between her legs.

She wraps both arms around my shoulders and says, “Blake. Look at me.” Her eyes are soft. Open. Honest. “I want you,” she says. “All of you.”

I push in slow and careful. She’s so warm around me it borders on unbearable. My forehead drops to hers as I bottom out with a groan I cannot swallow. I’ve never felt anything like this. Like my whole body was built for this moment, for her, and every second before this was just prologue.

“Shit,” I whisper, panting against her mouth. “You feel, fuck, you feel insane.”

She moans, all soft and undone. Her nails skim down my back, dragging just hard enough to leave a message: don’t hold back.

So I don’t.

I start slow. Letting her feel every inch. Her legs wrap around me tighter, and I swear, I black out for a second when her pussy flutters around me. She clutches me like she wants me inside her forever.

“More,” she breathes. “Don’t stop.”

My hips snap harder at the sound of it. My hand curls under her thigh and hikes it higher, angling her just right so I can drive into her even deeper.

And then she says, “Fuck, Blake, you feel so good.”

I stutter mid-thrust. My rhythm is gone because holy fuck, did she just say I feel good? Me? Blake ‘Awkward Boner Boy’ Taylor? The dumbass who knocked over a shelf of lube in a pharmacy once and never recovered?

“You say that again,” I rasp. “Please.”

She gives me this slow, wicked smile like she just found my favorite button. “You feel so fucking good inside me.”

I snap my hips harder, chasing the edge of control but barely holding on. I don’t want to blow it too fast. I want to draw this out until she can’t say anything but my name.

“You’re perfect,” I growl, panting against her throat. “You’re everything. Fuck, taking me so well, baby. Like you were made for me.”

She gasps. “You’re making me… I’m close.”

“I’ve got you,” I swear, voice shaking. “Let go for me. Wanna feel you come again. Wanna feel this sweet pussy squeeze my cock while you lose your mind for me.”

She cries out, clenching around me, and fuck if that doesn’t set me off. I grind into her as she writhes underneath me, moaning so beautifully I might die from it. Her pussy pulses around me like she owns me, which, let’s be honest, she does, and the sounds she makes are carved into my soul now.

When she starts to come down, blinking up at me with that dazed, loved-drunk look, I slow my thrusts.

“You okay?” I ask, brushing hair back from her sweaty forehead.

She nods, gasping. “Better than okay. You just, Jesus, Blake.”

I chuckle, weak with it. “You say things like that, and I swear I’ll never recover.”

“Pretty sure you broke me first.”

My heart flips. She’s smiling. She looks happy.

I cup her cheek, stroke my thumb over her skin. “Good.”

I want her again. Need her. Need to see how many times I can pull her apart before I break with her. I kiss her, sloppy, deep, ravenous, and feel her fingers clutch at my shoulders like she knows exactly what’s coming.

“Can I?” I trail off, pressing my hips in a little deeper. “Can I give you another one?”

She nods. “Wreck me.”

Oh, fuck yes. “Turn over,” I whisper, voice shredded. “On your knees for me. Please.”

She gives me this smirk, dazed, cocky, perfect, and rolls onto her stomach, lifting her hips. Arching her back just enough to make me whimper.

The view hits me like a goddamn truck. Her ass, high in the air, thighs slick and glistening. Mine.

I grab her hips and groan, burying my face between her legs one more time just because I can. Because she’s messy and soaked and so fucking sweet I could drown in her.

She gasps when I lick into her again. Just a few long, greedy strokes of my tongue before I pull back and line up behind her.

“Need you,” I pant, guiding my cock through her folds. “Need to be inside you again, please, let me.”

“Take me,” she moans, voice shot. “Do it, Blake, don’t hold back.”

I thrust back into her in one slow push, and we both cry out. The angle’s deeper like this, obscene. My hands lock around her hips, fingers digging in as I set a pace that’s filthy, fast, and needy.

She’s moaning into the pillows, rocking back against me like she wants it harder. Rougher. Dirtier.

“You’re perfect,” I groan, hips slamming into her. “So fucking good, baby. You’re unreal. Fuck, look at you.”

I watch my cock disappear into her, her body welcoming me like it’s craving it. The sounds, wet, raw, addictive, are going to haunt my fucking dreams.

“You fit me like a goddamn glove,” I grit out. “Like you were made for this cock. My perfect girl. Look at the way you suck me in.”

She whines. “God, Blake, yes.”

“Say it again,” I growl, barely holding on. “Tell me how good I feel. Need to hear it.”

“You feel, so deep, so full, you’re fucking amazing.”

A broken sound tears from my throat. I lean over her, chest flush to her back. “You like that?” I whisper in her ear. “Like being ruined by me? Want me to fill you up? Stretch this pretty cunt until you forget your own name?”

She nods frantically, moaning something incoherent into the mattress.

I pull her up and wrap my free arm under her ribs, fucking her hard, deep, punishing, every stroke angled to find the spot that makes her clench around me like a vice.

Her thighs start to tremble and I know she’s close.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” I pant, praise spilling from me like a prayer. “Come for me again, give it to me, baby, I’ll take care of you, I’ll make it so good.”

She screams my name as she comes, her whole body spasming around me.

I don’t even last three more thrusts. I slam in deep, burying myself to the hilt as I come hard.

She’s quivering under me when the last wave breaks. My arms are locked around her, holding her through the aftershocks, through the mess, through the ragged gasps and fluttering moans.

I kiss her shoulder. Her neck. Her jaw. “Baby,” I whisper, “you okay? Talk to me.”

She hums something soft, and I shift her gently onto her back. Start cleaning her up, dabbing at the slick between her thighs with a shirt I don’t even remember throwing off. She flinches a little when I wipe over her, too sensitive, and I slow down. Kiss her knee. Her hip. Her stomach.

“Too much?” I ask, stroking her thigh. My voice is so full of her I can barely speak without breaking.

She shakes her head, dazed and smiling. “Not too much. Just… everything.”

My chest aches. With love. With want. With this unbearable sweetness that’s tangled itself around every rib and refuses to let go.

“Let me hold you,” I whisper, and she nods. I pull her close, curling around her, cradling her against my chest, scared she’ll vanish if I blink too long.

I run my fingers through her hair. Kiss her temple. Murmur soft things I’ll never say out loud in daylight.

She breathes steady for a minute. Then shifts. Looks up at me with a sleepy, fucked-out smile. “You’re staring,” she teases, voice rough.

“I can’t help it,” I breathe. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her smile wavers like I’ve caught her off guard. Then she tugs me down into a kiss, soft, slow, grateful.

I slide my thigh between hers, coaxing her open just a little, just enough to feel the heat still radiating from her. My cock’s hard again, already aching, but I don’t push. I just press my lips to her collarbone and breathe her in.

“I can’t stop,” I say against her skin. “I don’t want to stop.”

She arches into me, a soft gasp escaping her mouth. “Then don’t.”

I groan and roll on top of her again, this time gentle. No rush. No frenzy. Just her and me and the way our bodies fit. I push in slow, deep, and intimate. Her legs curl around my hips like she needs me just as bad.

“Oh god,” she whispers, clutching my shoulders. “You feel… so good like this.”

A shaky exhale escapes me. “Fuck, don’t stop talking like that. I need it.”

Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging me down for a kiss. “You feel like you’re part of me.”

Fuck. I moan right into her mouth.

I move with slow rolls of my hips, letting her feel every inch, every stroke. I kiss her jaw. Her cheeks. Her eyelids. “I’ll never get enough of you. Never want to stop.”

Her hands roam my back, my chest, holding me close like I’m something precious. “You don’t have to,” she says.

I make love to her like I’ll never see the sun again, whispering praise between kisses. Worshipping her with every stroke.

And when she comes again, soft and slow and glowing, I follow right after, groaning her name like a promise.

We stay tangled. Kissing. Breathing. Belonging. We’re a mess. Sticky. Breathless. Wrung out in every way a person can be. And I’ve never felt better.

She’s draped across my chest like she belongs there. One leg slung over my waist, hand splayed flat on my chest, heartbeat syncing with mine like she’s already moved in under my skin.

I stroke her back, slow and lazy. Press kisses to her temple, her hairline, the soft curve of her ear.

“I’m not gonna survive this,” I say.

She hums without opening her eyes. “Survive what?”

“You.” I grin like an idiot. “This. All of it. I’m done for, baby.”

Her smile curves against my chest. “You’re dramatic.”

“You broke me,” I say, full-on moaning. “That’s it. Normal’s dead. Bury me with my boner.”

Her laugh is quiet, smug. And god, I love it.

“Good,” she whispers. “I don’t want normal.”

I tilt her chin up, catch her mouth in a kiss, sweet, deep, just this side of desperate.

I’m afraid I’ll wake up and find out it wasn’t real.

That she isn’t here. That I didn’t just fall in love between her thighs and now have to live the rest of my life aching for every second she’s not in my arms.

But she is here. Soft and warm and wrapped around me. She’s real.

“Get comfy,” I say, tugging a blanket up over us. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Her hand slides up to my neck, fingers stroking lazy circles against my skin.

“Good,” she whispers again.

I close my eyes, heart hammering slow and deep.

Mine.