“Deeper,” he urged, barely aware of what he was saying. “Just . . . urrggghhh . . . little more . . . please baby, take it all. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t . . .” He couldn’t what—he had no idea. He couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t let go. He couldn’t stand it anymore, this unique mix of pleasure and pain as he struggled frantically towards his climax, yet fought against taking her in the way his instincts demanded.
She rubbed her hands up and down his trembling thighs, over his abdomen, soothing him as he struggled to hold still for her.
“Agghhh, oh God, Marie . . .” He was whimpering, bucking his hips just a little to urge her to speed up. That was okay, right? Just a little? It had to be okay, because pleasure was rocketing up and down every nerve in his body now, and this was much more than okay. It was good, perfect, absolute bliss.
He didn’t think it could get any better—until it somehow did. Marie rubbed his stomach one more time, then took his entire length and swallowed around him. He saw stars.
And then he was coming. “Rrrrrgghhh! M’rie! Rrrrrggghhh! Ahhhh! Oh God, GRRRRRRGGGHHH!” It went on and on. He couldn’t remember it ever lasting this long, as he growled and spilled himself into her over and over again.
When the last shudder went through him, he collapsed in the chair, utterly spent. Holy shit. He’d never taken such a passive role in sex before, yet he was exhausted.
Marie slowly eased off him, biting her lip with a smile. “You liked that, huh?” she echoed his words from earlier.
“C’mere,” he grunted, trying to catch his breath.
She crawled on top of him again, rubbing his chest in slow circles. He pressed a kiss to her lips, growling in satisfaction as he tasted himself on her, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him and breathing her in. It was heaven.
“S’go to bed,” Logan mumbled when he had finally regained the strength to scoop her up in his arms and stand.
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