Page 56 of Lagoon

He pushed that into her, too.

Now, there was pressure everywhere, all up against the parts of her inner clitoral wings that could be stimulated from sexual intercourse, and a long stiff line all the way into her, right through her now-sensitive cervix. She felt gloriously full, deliciously penetrated.

“Tell me I’m not hurting you,” he murmured, gently rutting into her body, peering down at her with an awestruck expression on his face.

“No, not even close. It’s good, so fucking good.”

“Thank God,” he breathed. “Because I’m about to… I mean, I’m going to give you your first egg now, Riley. That’ll be good for both of us, don’t you think?”

She nodded. “Want it. Please, Jonathan.”

He kissed her. “It’s coming. Fuck, it feels good. I can feel it working through me, into you—”

“Oh, I feel it, too,” she gasped, because she did, little ripples moving through her cervix, and it felt divine. She felt another orgasm beginning to build, just the edges there.

He moved in and out of her—both his rigid cock and the rigid stinger—gasping at the edge of each thrust. Then he groaned and went totally still, muscles in his neck going corded.

She felt it, the egg, inside her, lulling around in her, a deep feeling of fullness. She gasped. Her orgasm was closer, but she didn’t come.

His mouth moved urgently on hers.

She sighed against him, feeling taken and filled and good, so good, joined to him, accepting him, a receptacle for whatever he needed.

“Riley,” he said in that rich voice of his. “You can take a few more.”

They’d only said one, but… she knew he was right, and she knew it would feel good, and she was riding an orgasm here and… “Not too many. Don’t hurt me.”

“Not too many,” he agreed. “But more.”

“Yes,” she said. “More.”

“Good, that’s good,” he said, kissing her hard, working his cock and the long, rigid length of him inside her. “Good girl, Riley, take my eggs. That’s right.”

She writhed into him, liking that for whatever reason, liking the praise, liking being told to take things from him. “I want your eggs, Jonathan.”

“Yes, you do,” he gasped. “Because your pretty pussy is made to take them now, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” she sighed.

The next egg rubbed her closer to her climax, and the next even closer.

There were five in her when she finally came, gasping out his name, “Give me your eggs, Jonathan, please, please.” And the orgasm was like the eruption of thunderclouds on a meadow in summer, all crashes and sparks and a driving rain.

In the wake of it, she was wrung out and exhausted.

“More,” he said to her.

“No more,” she said, shaking her head up at him.

He hesitated and then nodded. Carefully, he extricated himself from her.

Her abdomen was a little swollen, a sign of the eggs that were inside her. She ran her hand over her belly, and he did too.

“Whoa,” he breathed. “That’s insanely hot.”

“Scary,” she said.

“That, too,” he said. “But we didn’t… it wasn’t too many, was it? You’re okay. They all fit.” He caressed her belly.

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