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Rhodes---Brink of Madness

She is glorious. I watch as she chases that high, wanting little more than to fall over that cliff. She’d get to…eventually. Her muscles strain against my forearms, her swollen pussy glistening. Her body is speaking without her having to say a word. There is a strength in her submission, a grace that I cannot explain in the way she yields herself to me. She is like the wildflowers bending in the summer breeze, the moans and soft mewls her siren song.

Her body is a temple, and I am here to worship this goddess laying before me.

My tongue finds her clit, flattening to broadly lick her, drawing another whimper as I then change my rhythm. I waited until she was just at the cusp of an orgasm before stopping, my grin resting against her thigh.

“One.” she sighs, her frustration evident.

I resume, my mouth attaching itself firmly against her clit and sucking hard. Her breathing changes, becoming faster, shallower. And over and over again, I plan to repeatedly bring her to the edge just to deny her the sheer exhilaration of falling.

“Two.”

“Three.”

I feel her hands weave themselves into my hair. Oh, kochanie.

“It is a shame you know,” I murmur against her pussy, listening as her excuses become caught in her throat. She knows she’s been caught.

“I’m sorry,” she starts.

“Tsk. And to think you were doing so well. Move your hands back, start over.”

I see the defeat reach her eyes, a fire lit within them.

“Please.” Gods, I love it when she begs. She does it so prettily.

“Hands, Amelia. I won’t repeat myself twice.”

She moves her hands back above her head, watching warily as I move off the bed, shucking the worn denim off to reveal my cock. Her eyes widen and her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip, but not once do her hands move.

Good girl.

“Let’s try again, shall we?”

I drape my body along hers, my erection finding her pussy and teasing it. A moan escapes her, my right hand running along the curve of her side, over the Medusa tattoo, before finally hooking under her knee and drawing her wider.

“Stay there,” I whisper, ghosting my hands inward, reaching the place she wants me most. “Tell me, would you be satisfied with my fingers, or does your cunt want to be filled?”

I shove one finger into her, her back bowing and those grey eyes drifting shut. I add a second, curling them until she starts to squirm. Her legs begin to drift together, and I push them wide open, fingers stilling and I smirk. Amelia Conte would be beautiful bound by my belt.

She mewls, hands flexing above her head. Every muscle in her curvaceous body is taut and primed to explode.

“One,” she breathes.

I position my cock at the entrance of her wet pussy and slam into her, moving her up the bed. I piston into her, punishing and unrelenting. Her body breaks, and she loses control.

“Such a good girl, Amelia. Such a good fucking girl.” I growl, my voice dropping as I bring her higher and higher. I am right there with her.

“Sir, please. Please. I’m so close.”

I contemplate edging her one more time, but I won’t last if I keep this up much longer.

“Come. Come like my good fucking girl,” I say, shoving her body up the bed with each well placed thrust.

She detonates and I feel her squeeze my cock, her shattering trying to milk me dry, and I am in awe of the sight before me. I gaze down, seeing her melt as she comes back to reality and the look of her face is everything. I erupt, stilling as I fill her. While she is floating in pleasure, I pull out and go to the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth.

I softly come back to the bed, waiting and brushing the hair from her face. Gently cleaning her, I toss the cloth in the hamper, and then snuggle in next to her. Placing a kiss on her head, I wrap her up in my arms.

“Good girl, kochanie .”

Amelia doesn’t say anything in return. She just nods, a satisfied smile slowly draws upon her lips, and I kiss her hair. I know that she’s had a rough time navigating setting up this showdown with Medina, and I haven’t made things easier. Amelia has been pulling the curtain back more and giving me a chance to offer insight, which I also know isn’t the easiest thing to do when you are used to running things alone.

The meeting with Medina is set at a neutral warehouse that belongs to Seamus O’Donnelly. Amelia had said that the man was hesitant to offer space but when he was informed that Medina had threatened Parker, there was a change in his tone. I’ve been assured that Duncan will be able to reach Amelia should things go south, but I cannot let her walk into this alone. I’ve seen the way Amelia approaches things when she is working. The woman is methodical, leaving no stone left unturned. From the way she checks that her blades are on her before leaving the house, to her weekend routine, to her corner table at The Morning Medusa and the order of booths visited at the farmer’s market, every component of her life serves a purpose. But in her methodology, Amelia has left no room for error and it is driving her to the brink of madness. Her attempt to keep Parker and myself safe is enough to make me pause and make plans of my own.

I run my fingers through her dark tresses, her purple highlights now faded to lavender. I never want Amelia Conte to feel like I don’t trust her ability to handle her shit. She can. She has.

But I will ensure that someone has her back…even if it makes her an angry hellcat.