Chapter 29: Again and again
The first thing she felt was warmth, a slow, lazy heat unfurling low in her belly. Svet swam up from a deep, dreamless sleep, the edges of consciousness soft and blurry. The second thing she felt was wet. A slow, deliberate stroke. A flicker.
Her eyes flew open.
Early morning light, pale and dusty, cut through the blinds. She was on her back, the sheet pooled around her hips. And Joe was between her legs, his broad shoulders nudging her thighs wider, his head bent in total concentration.
“Joe… what…” Her voice was a sleep-ravaged croak.
He didn’t answer with words. He answered with his tongue. A long, flat, devastating lick from her opening all the way up to the swollen bud of her clit. It was languid, appreciative, like he was tasting something exquisite. He circled her entrance, dipping just inside, before returning to her clit with focused, rhythmic flicks.
“Oh, God.” Her head fell back onto the pillow. This was different. The night had been about possession, about frenzy. This was... worship. Slow, deliberate, wet worship. Her hips twitched off the mattress, seeking more pressure.
He gave it to her. He sealed his mouth over her, his tongue lapping at her, then spearing inside, fucking her with it in a mimicry of what was to come. His big hands slid under her ass, lifting her, giving him total access. He groaned against her, the vibration traveling straight to her core.
“You taste like me,” he muttered, his voice ragged and dark with sleep. He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with her. “And you. And us. It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Then he dove back in. He added a finger, sliding two inside her with obscene ease, crooking them, finding a spot that made her back arch off the bed. He worked her with his mouth and his hand in a devastating tandem, building a coil of pressure so intense, so fast, she was gasping within minutes.
“I’m gonna… Joe, I’m gonna come…”
Just as the first tremor began to gather, as her muscles clenched around his fingers, he stopped.
He withdrew everything—tongue, fingers—and sat back on his heels, watching her. His chest was heaving. His cock stood thick and angry against his abdomen, a bead of moisture pearling at the tip.
Svet cried out in frustration, a raw, aching sound. “Don’t stop. Why did you stop?”
“Because I can,” he said simply, his eyes burning into hers. He leaned forward again, but this time just blew a cool stream of air over her throbbing, wet flesh. She jerked violently. “I want to see how many times I can bring you to the edge. I want to learn the exact moment you break.”
He didn’t wait for her to recover. He descended again, his technique changing, becoming softer, more teasing. He licked around her clit, avoiding the direct contact she craved. He sucked gently on her inner lips. He pushed three fingers inside her now, stretching her, filling her, but his movements were slow, almost casual.
He built her up again, masterfully, mercilessly. This time, when she was clawing at the sheets, her pleas a stream of broken “please, please, please,” he stopped by flattening his tongue and applying just enough pressure to keep her hovering, teetering on the brink without release.
“Fuck you,” she sobbed, tears of frustration leaking from the corners of her eyes.
He chuckled, a low, dark sound. “That’s the plan.”
The third time, he used only his mouth, suction and flicking tongue working in a rhythm that was pure torture. She was chanting his name, her thighs trembling against his ears. The halt this time was a sharp nip of his teeth on her inner thigh, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to shock her system, to shatter the building climax.
He did it six times.
Six times he brought her to the screaming, sweating, pleading edge. Six times he denied her with a cold, calculated discipline that awed and infuriated her. Her body was a live wire, every nerve ending exposed and screaming. She was soaked, aching, completely at his mercy. The room smelled of sex and salt and her desperate need.
“Please,” she begged finally, her voice shattered. “Joe, I can’t… I need…”
“What do you need?” He was kneeling between her legs, stroking himself slowly, his gaze fixed on the wreck he’d made of her. “You have to say it.”
“I need to come. I need you to fuck me. Please, just fuck me.”
A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face. “Since you asked so nicely.”
He didn’t move to enter her. Instead, he leaned down, positioned his cock at her entrance, and began to rub the engorged head through her slick folds, over her oversensitive clit.
“You’re so wet for me,” he grunted. “Soaking. I could drown in this.”
Then he pushed inside. Not the brutal, claiming thrust of the night before, but a slow, inexorable invasion. She was so sensitized, so swollen, every millimeter of his advance was a seismic event. He filled her completely, a stretching, perfect fullness. He held still, buried to the hilt, letting her feel every ridge, every pulse.
“Now,” he whispered, his breath hot against her neck. “Now you can come.”
He began to move. Deep, grinding rolls of his hips. Each stroke dragged against that spot inside her that felt like a live wire. The coil, wound impossibly tight from six denials, snapped almost immediately.
The orgasm didn’t crest. It detonated.
It tore through her with a violence that stole her sight, her hearing, her breath. A guttural scream ripped from her throat it was unlike anything she’d ever felt. It was deeper, wetter, a total systems overwhelm. And as she shattered, as her inner muscles convulsed around him in frantic, rhythmic pulses, something else happened.
A hot, gushing rush flooded out of her, soaking his pelvis, the sheets beneath them.
Joe froze. For a split second, shock registered on his face. Then it was replaced by pure, unadulterated awe. He didn’t pull out. He drove into her once, twice more, as the jets continued, his eyes wide and fixed on where their bodies joined.
“Holy shit,” he breathed. “Svet… are you…?”
He pulled out suddenly. The release, now unimpeded, flowed more freely. He didn’t hesitate. He dropped his head between her legs, his tongue lapping at her, drinking her in as she continued to pulse and tremble through the downpour of sensation. He moaned, a sound of pure greed, his hands gripping her hips to hold her still as he consumed every drop.
When the last tremor subsided, she was boneless, trembling, her mind utterly blank. He crawled up her body, his mouth wet, his chin glistening. He kissed her, deep and searching, letting her taste herself on his tongue.
“That,” he said against her lips, his voice reverent, “was the single hottest thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life.”
He was still rock hard. He slid into her again, her slickness making the passage effortless. He fucked her through the lingering aftershocks, his own control gone, his movements becoming ragged, primal. He came with a shout, pulsing inside her, collapsing atop her like a felled tree.
For a long time, the only sounds were their ragged breaths slowing into sync. He rolled, taking her with him, arranging her limp body over his.
He traced the line of her spine. “You okay?”
She managed a faint nod against his chest.
“I didn’t… I mean, I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never…” He sounded uncharacteristically flustered. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” The answer was immediate, true. It had been shocking, overwhelming, but not painful. A total surrender. “It just… happened.”
He held her tighter. “It was beautiful.”
They lay in silence for a while, the sun growing stronger, painting stripes across the room.
“You’re a cruel man, Joe Alt,” she mumbled into his skin, her energy returning in a faint trickle. “Six times.”
She felt his chest vibrate with a silent laugh. “You have no idea the control that took. I wanted to let you go the first time. But I wanted to see…” He trailed off, his hand splaying possessively over the small of her back. “I wanted to see what happened when I pushed you. And fuck, Svet. It was worth it.”
She kissed the center of his chest. The words were there, in her throat, but they still felt too new, too fragile to say in the clear light of day. I love you. She had only said it once, in the dark, half-asleep. He had said it multiple times, a steady, sure mantra. The imbalance should have felt dangerous. Instead, it felt like a promise she was slowly walking towards.
Her stomach growled, loud and obnoxious in the quiet room.
Joe laughed, a real, full-bodied sound. “Come on, my love,” he said, effortlessly using the term that had started it all. He shifted, preparing to get up. “Let’s feed you. You need your strength.”
“Why?” she asked, a sly smile touching her lips as she looked up at him. “You planning on breaking me again?”
He looked down at her, his brown eyes soft, but with that dark, possessive edge lurking in the depths. He leaned down and kissed her, slow and deep.
“Not breaking,” he corrected quietly. “Learning. Every time. I’m just learning you.”
He swung his legs out of bed and padded, magnificently naked, toward the kitchen. Svet watched him go, the soreness between her legs a persistent, thrilling reminder. He was learning her. And for the first time, with a clarity that was both terrifying and exhilarating, she realized she wanted to be an open book. For him.