Chapter 37: Again
Joe’s arms tightened around her. “Fuck off, Lex!” he yelled, his voice rough but laced with fond exasperation. “Give us a minute!”
“You’ve had all night!” came the sing-song reply. “And all morning, by the sound of it! I’m leaving the coffee out here. It’s getting cold, and so am I!” They heard her retreating footsteps, then the distant slam of the sliding deck door.
Silence rushed back in, filled only with their breathing and the distant crash of surf. Svet tried to move, to get up, but Joe’s arms were like iron.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he murmured into her hair.
“Coffee. Clothes. Dignity,” she listed, but she made no real effort to disentangle herself.
“Forget all that.” He rolled, fluidly reversing their positions so she was pinned beneath the comforting, massive weight of him. The evidence of their night and morning was sticky between her thighs. He looked down at her, his brown eyes dark and focused. “My turn.”
“Joe, Alexa’s right out—”
“She’s gone. And she won’t come back.” He dipped his head, kissing her slowly, thoroughly, until her protests melted into a soft hum. When he broke the kiss, his gaze was predatory. “You wrung me out. Three times. I’m empty.” He nudged her legs apart with his knee. “Now I’m going to fill you up. And I’m going to take my time.”
He slid down her body, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire. He took his time at her breasts, suckling each nipple until they were hard, pebbled peaks, then biting just hard enough to make her gasp. He moved lower, over the gentle curve of her belly, his big hands spreading her thighs wide.
The cool morning air hit her wetness, a contrast that made her shiver. He knelt between her legs, looking at her. Really looking. Her instinct was to close her knees, to hide, but he held her open, his expression one of raw reverence.
“So fucking pretty,” he breathed, his voice husky. “All swollen and wet for me. Mine.”
Then he lowered his mouth to her.
The first lick was a slow, flat stroke from bottom to top. It was teasing, maddening. Svet’s back arched off the mattress, a broken sound escaping her throat. He did it again, and again, establishing a lazy rhythm that built a slow, throbbing heat in her core but went nowhere near enough.
“Joe… please…”
“Please what?” he asked, his breath hot against her.
“You know what.”
He gave a low chuckle. “I want to hear you say it.”
She bit her lip. “Lick me properly. Fuck me with your tongue.”
“Good girl.”
This time, he got serious. His tongue circled her clit, not touching it directly, a tormenting orbit. He plunged two fingers into her without warning, curling them, finding that spot inside her instantly. She cried out, her hips bucking.
“There it is,” he growled against her. He began a ruthless rhythm, his fingers pumping, his tongue now flicking rapid, relentless circles over her clit. The orgasm built like a wave, fast and terrifying. She was panting, her fingers clutching at the sheets.
Right as the crest was about to break, he stopped. Completely.
He removed his fingers, lifted his head. She whined, a desperate, animal sound, thrusting her hips up into nothing.
“One,” he said, his voice calm.
She stared at him, dazed. “Wha—?”
“You heard me.” He leaned down again. This time, he focused entirely on her clit, sucking it into his mouth, applying just the right amount of pressure. He added a single finger, sliding it in and out of her soaked entrance in a slow, shallow rhythm. It was a different path to the same cliff edge. The tension coiled, tighter and hotter than before. Her thighs began to tremble.
He stopped. Pulled back.
“Two.”
“You bastard,” she gasped, her chest heaving.
He smiled, a wicked, beautiful thing. “Your bastard.” He pushed her legs back further, spreading her wider, and buried his face in her. This was no finesse. This was filthy. He ate her with loud, sloppy strokes, fucking her with his tongue, lapping at her like she was the only source of water in the desert. Three fingers now, stretching her, filling her. The sound was obscene. She was so close she could taste it.
He stopped.
“Three.”
This went on. He became a virtuoso of her pleasure, learning every gasp, every twitch. He used his fingers deep, then shallow. He circled her clit with maddening lightness, then pressed down hard. He’d bring her to the very brink, her body bowing, every muscle taut, screaming for release.
“Four.”
“Five.”
“Six.”
By the seventh edge, she was crying. Real tears streaked from the corners of her eyes into her hairline. She was a live wire, every nerve ending exposed and screaming. Pleasure had crossed into a kind of agonized need. “Joe, I can’t… please, I need to come. I need it. Let me come.”
He crawled up her body, kissing her tears, her lips. His cock, hard again and leaking, rested heavy against her thigh. “You can take it. You’re the strongest person I know.” He kissed her deeply. “And this sweet, greedy pussy is mine. It comes when I say.”
He slid back down. The eighth edge was the cruelest. He used only his mouth, sucking her clit with a steady, rhythmic pull while his thumbs rubbed firm circles on her inner thighs. She was babbling, begging, promising him anything.
He stopped.
“Eight.”
She sobbed, a shudder wracking her whole body. He soothed her with kisses on her inner thighs, her stomach. “One more. Give me one more, Svet. Then I’ll give you everything.”
He didn’t wait for permission. He draped her legs over his shoulders, lifting her hips off the bed. He drove his tongue inside her, fucking her with it, then sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked, hard.
It was too much. The overstimulation, the relentless climb and fall. The ninth peak rose, a tsunami now, unavoidable. She shook her head, her hair fanning out. “I’m… I’m gonna…”
He pulled back. Looked her dead in the eye, his lips glistening. Her body was frozen on the precipice, shuddering violently.
“Nine,” he whispered.
Then he surged up her body, gripped his cock, and drove into her in one solid, deep thrust. It was the final trigger.
The orgasm didn’t roll. It exploded. It shattered her. A raw, piercing scream ripped from her throat as her vision whited out. Her internal muscles clamped around him in violent, endless pulses. She couldn’t breathe. She could only feel, wave after wave of pure, convulsing sensation tearing through her.
He fucked her through it, his own control breaking. His thrusts became frantic, pounding, chasing his own release. “That’s it, baby, let it go. Fuck, you’re milking me… I love you… I love this pussy… I love you…”
His words pushed her over another, smaller crest. With a final, guttural roar, he slammed into her, crushing her into the mattress, and came. She felt every hot jet, the profound pulsing of him deep inside, mixing with her own aftershocks.
For a long time, there was only the sound of their ragged breaths. He collapsed beside her, pulling her halfway on top of him, his heart hammering against her ear. She was boneless, liquefied. Spent in a way she hadn’t known was possible.
He stroked her hair, his touch infinitely gentle. “Okay?” he whispered.
She couldn’t speak. She nodded against his chest.
“Look at me.”
With effort, she lifted her head. His eyes were soft, his expression open and vulnerable. “I love you,” he said, for what felt like the hundredth time.
This time, the words didn’t scare her. They felt like a warm anchor in the storm he’d just pulled her through. She swallowed, her throat dry. “I love you, too.”
He kissed her, sweet and deep. “I know.”
From the other room, Alexa’s voice carried, louder now. “Okay, seriously! The coffee is glacial! If you’re not decent in sixty seconds, I’m selling pictures to TMZ!”
Joe sighed, a contented, weary sound. “We should probably save her from herself.”
“Probably,” Svet mumbled, making no move to get up. The smell of salt air, sex, and him filled the room. Somewhere downstairs, a pool ball cracked against another. The real world was waiting. But for now, in the tangled sheets of the creaking beach house, they were the only two people in it.