Page 6 of Desperate Measures

“Please!” she cried as passion rode her hard despite the lack of direct contact to where she burned for him. His venom had erased all control, all dignity. She had to have him.

“I smell a hungry little cunt,” he whispered as he nuzzled her pubic curls. “I smell a delicious cunt. Should I taste it?”

“Yes!”

“Should I lick every luscious inch of your gorgeous, wet, swollen pussy?”

“Yes!”

“Should I eat this pussy until you come screaming and creaming on my face?”

“Sweet prophets, yes, yes, yes!”

“Who am I to deny you when you’re reduced to blasphemy?” His deep chuckle rumbled her bones.

He moved so fast, she neither saw nor felt the change in position. All at once, she found her legs draped over his massive, scarred shoulders. He must have let go and regained control of her wrists to pin them again, but Cheryl had been unaware of it. Nor did she care, since his lascivious smirk hovered inches from her clamoring sex, which was left open to him.

His first lick was leisurely, starting from the bottom of her slit, then moving up to scoop her wetness on his tongue. She felt every bump of his rough, hot flesh as it carefully abraded her tender inner petals. Cheryl forgot how to breathe as excitement rushed her to the peak in a matter of the three or four seconds it took for him to reach her clit.

His tongue stroked the engorged nub, and she detonated.

Exquisite ecstasy crashed through her in waves. She arched and pealed a high-pitched scream as white blinded her vision. Another blast as Besral continued his deliberate licking, each lap culminating when he paused to suck her clit. Her feet kicked the air at the tremendous surges. Besral kept at her despite her frantic jerks, demanding more.

He only quit when he discerned she was reaching the point where pleasure approached agony. Somehow, he always intuited where the line was between delight and too much intensity, when continued contact to her clit approached pain.

As Cheryl gasped in the aftermath, her muscles slack and useless, Besral settled in for a long interlude of eating her pussy. His tongue reached deep as she trembled from numerous and extended climaxes. His breathing, the wet sounds of his tongue fucking her, and the slurps and happy moans as he devoured her juices were a lullaby while she drifted in the warm aftereffects of incredible release. It also meant arousal, while greatly lessened, continued to hum in the background.

He indulged his enjoyment until, once again obeying uncanny instinct, he paused to lick and suck her clit. Though the effects of his bite’s venom had been eradicated during the profound release, Cheryl gasped when a jolt of bliss woke her nub. How Besral knew the timing of her recovery better than she had always perplexed her.

He was as unerring as ever. He prodded her toward rapture. When she trembled, he returned to hungrily mouthing her entrance.

He’s so good. He drives me crazy, and I love every second of it.

When he returned to her clit, he gathered her wrists in an enormous paw, holding them prisoner on her stomach. As his tireless tongue stroked her clit, two fingers dove deep in her pussy. He found the sensitive place inside and rubbed it. Excitement leapt, and she moaned under his manipulation.

When her sex clutched a warning, his fingers continued to fuck her, but he released her sensitive nub. He dropped a soft kiss on the blatantly swollen red flesh before gazing up at her. “My most precious,” he breathed. “How I love seeing your eyes glazed from pleasure while I fuck you as you were meant to be fucked.”

“Besral,” she moaned, his name a benediction. His words were crude, and she often thought she shouldn’t like them, but they excited her. He knew it.

“I worship this cunt. I love how it tastes. How it feels when it grabs my tongue, my fingers, my cocks when they’re in you,” he growled.

She shook her head, but her sex clenched on his fingers as they drove in. Her heels dug in the comforter, creating shallow ruts as heat built.

“That isn’t all I love,” he said, and his lips enclosed her clit again.

As a surge of bliss leapt from his wicked kiss, he pulled free of her pussy. She offered no resistance as his slick fingers eased into her back passage, preparing her for what would come next.

The ache of being filled there was negligible, more an old friend than irritant. It was fully in the background as he lavished attention on her clit, until the invasion became agreeable. Then enthralling.

When her pleasured whimpers grew in volume, Besral halted his luscious assault. He rose and pulled her onto his scar-patterned thighs, so her ass rested there as he knelt. His cocks were livid exclamation points, slick and eager for her. He adjusted them with one hand, the other continuing to imprison her wrists.

He wasn’t rough, but he enjoyed making her helpless. When they’d initially become intimate, Cheryl had found to her surprise it excited her too. After enduring abuse at her first husband’s hands, she’d been beyond surprised. She’d been astonished.

Besral hadn’t given her any reason to doubt her welfare was ever at the forefront of his interests. Trust had been instinctive for some unknown reason, but she’d made him earn it, nevertheless. He’d set out to do so eagerly. He loved challenges, and he’d seemed to take delight in having to win her for his own, no matter the obstacles her rocky past had put in his path.

Her legs were still draped over his massive shoulders, holding her open for him. He guided himself to her warmth and effortlessly slipped in. Cheryl groaned a welcome at the double impalement. The fullness meant he rubbed her inner spot with fierce strength, no matter how carefully he proceeded. A blast of pure elation sang through her core, and she cried out as orgasm approached.

Besral sighed as he embedded himself in her and joined them as a single entity. “My Matara. My only love.”

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