Page 26 of Duke
His cock drove in, pulled back, drove in, and with each thrust I wobbled and toppled closer and closer to orgasm, each drive of his dick pushing me higher and higher.
There was no mistaking how close I was to orgasm. I mean, it’s not hard; I’m not a difficult woman to read in that regard. I get all flushed, my cheeks turn bright red, my skin breaks out in a sweat, my pussy tightens, and I lose all ability to not make stupid porn star sounds—ohhhh, oh yeah, fuck yeah, oh my god, oh god fuck me harder, breathy erotic crap like that. Plus I’m a whimperer. I don’t usually scream, but I do a lot of gasping and shrieking and whimpering. Funny thing is, out of the dozens of men I’ve fucked, only three have ever made me come during actual intercourse, and I think all three instances were flukes.
This?
This was intentional. Duke knewexactlywhat he was doing. Each thrust was designed to push me closer. He changed his angle, the force and speed, the depth, so I never knew what I’d get, how he’d thrust into me, and the not knowing was driving me mad, in the best possible way. And then his hands cupped my tits, and his fingers pinched my nipples, and his breath blew warm on my neck, his waist gliding against my thighs.
I’d had my eyes closed as he fucked me to orgasm, but now, now I had to open my eyes. I had to watch as his cock pushed into me. My pussy was stretched so tight, and his cock was so huge, disappearing into me and pulling out. It seemed impossible that I could take all of it, but I did. And it was unbearably hot watching his cock slide into my pussy, watching his face shift expressions as he fucked me.
“You’re…oh god…you’re not fucking me?” I asked.
His grin was feral. “Not even close. I’m just getting you ready.”
“It looks like you’re fucking me, and it feels like you’re fucking me.”
“This isn’t fucking, Fancy.”
“Then what is it?”
“I just said. I’m getting you ready.”
“Ready?” I gasped as he thrust in three times in quick succession, short sharp battering thrusts that knocked me to the shuddering brink of climax. “Ready for what?”
He leaned closer, his face inches from mine, his eyes hot and fierce and wild, arrogance and lust warring in his gaze. “For this.”
Duke’s mouth crashed against mine with sudden, bruising force, his tongue claiming my mouth as his with ferocious dominance. I had no chance of resisting the kiss. All I could do was succumb, give in, be kissed senseless. His fingers found the elastic band holding my hair in place and tugged it free, yanking the bobby pins out, and then my hair was falling loose around my shoulders in a blonde cascade. The moment my hair was free, he wrapped it around his fist to control my head, and with my hands bound behind my back and his cock driving into me, I was…utterly helpless. I should have hated it. I should have been furious, or terrified. Instead, the helplessness, the fury and the mastery of his kiss…drove me over the edge.
I broke the kiss to throw my head back and shriek on a gasping intake of breath, the climax starting low and deep.
He pulled out of me as I began coming, leaving me aching and crazed and desperate. “NO! Duke, no! Please, please, god please keep fucking me!”
There was no sarcasm that time, no attitude, only raw desperation, genuine begging.
The climax lost its edge as I lost the stretching fullness of his cock inside me, as I lost the stimulation.
Duke dropped to his knees between my thighs, grinning up at me. “Beg harder, Fancy.” He touched his tongue to my clit, and a zing of heat blasted through me.
“Fuck—ohfuck, Duke, please.” I met his gaze, let him see how real I was. “Give it to me, Duke. I—I need to come. Please,please.”
As I breathed the final plea, he buried his face between my thighs and drove his tongue into my pussy and dragged it up to my clit, and I arched my back and gasped.
“Like that?” He breathed.
“Yeah, except shut up and keeping going.”
He laughed, but dove back in, and this time slid three fingers into my slit as he latched onto my clit. Two quick thrusts of his fingers, one hard suck around my clit, and I was gone. My feet planted on his shoulders, my head and neck braced against the cabinet behind me, my thighs falling apart, my head tipping back, a stacatto series of shrieks ripping out of me as he worked my exploding orgasm into a frenzy. His fingers pumped in and out of my channel, and his tongue lashed my clit in a furious onslaught of side-to-side movements, drawing my shrieks into breathless gasps. He shifted tactics then, slowing his fingers, curling them against me high inside, massing some point just behind my clit inside my pussy, his mouth suctioning around my clit, his tongue moving in slow circles.
The abrupt change of pace and tactic should have ruined the orgasm, but somehow it didn’t, instead made me come all the harder. I was struggling against the shirt binding my wrists, thrashing against him, hips pumping, shrieking and gasping as he ate my pussy with such skill that I couldn’t seem to stop coming, could only continue thrashing, orgasming, wave after wave wrenched out of me.
“Untie me,” I whispered, as soon as I was capable of speech. “Please. Let me touch you.”
“If you can talk, you’re not coming hard enough.”
He stood up, lifted me off the counter with one arm under my knees and the other around my shoulders. Half a dozen steps, and we were at the futon. I was tipped backward, his face over mine, his lips glistening with my essence. He set me down and then stood in front of me, his cock erect and still wet from being inside me.
“Lick me,” he ordered. “Taste your pussy on my cock.”
And, like the desperate slut I was, I obeyed him. I leaned forward, hands still bound behind me, and licked up the side of his cock, tasting my pussy mingling with the salt of his skin.