Page 116 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

It’s a fuck it moment for me. Using my hands as leverage, I plunge back, impaling myself on his cock. Our shouts ring out in unison, but I don’t give myself time to think. It’s sharply intense, but my endorphins are flowing. I work his cock like I’m channeling a porn star.

His grip is light on my hips, allowing me full range of motion, and I use all of it, sliding up and down the thick pole of his cock, relishing the burn when my ass hits his lap and groaning with every stroke of his crown on my sweet spot. I swivel, I grind, I work myself into a dripping sweat.

“Easy—” he gasps. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“So good,” I argue, shaking my head. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Mmm…” he moans, like he can barely take it. Itisa tight fit—genuinely feeling like my hole is choking his cock. Even I can tell I’m not stretching like a woman can, but the pain gets me off, too. I move faster, jerking my cock and relying more on my legs to keep me in position.

My body has a mind of its own—seeking him out with laser precision as my pleasure builds, sending liquid heat up my spine and down my legs, pressure mounting in my groin in need of a way out. “Close, close, I’m close…” I pant, now pounding his lap.

A growl rips from his chest, and he spasms inside me. As he comes, he wraps his arms around my waist, holding me with his cock fully seated as it continues to throb and gush. With two more strokes of my hand, cum shoots from my dick, spaying my chest as I milk myself for every drop. My hole spasms around him, and he lets out a sharp gasp.

I can’t control it. My orgasm bleeds through every cell and muscle fiber. My brain goes offline, leaving only static and ecstasy, elevating my existence into a realm I’ve never visited.

And then, as the aftershocks begin, the burn in my ass returns,and my processing speed picks up, I’m positive I did, in fact, hurt myself.

“Fuck, you’re bleeding.”

Yeah, I kinda figured.

Damnit.

“Easy, easy,” he says, slowing me down as I try to rise off him.

“Sorry,” I tell him. Because I truly am. I don’t know if going slower would have changed the outcome, but still, he wanted to be careful, and I couldn’t manage it.

“Give me a minute, and I’ll get you taken care of.”

I stumble forward onto the couch, not realizing until it’s too late that my legs are useless. “Is it bad?”

“Not too bad. Lie down, and I’ll be right back.”

I watch as he stands, removes the condom, and ties it off before crossing to the bathroom. He returns shortly with his shirt off and a towel around his waist, a damp cloth in his hand.

He sits on the edge of the sofa, his hip against my outer thigh, and presses the cloth to my hole, holding pressure. It’s warm. I close my eyes, rest my head on my folded arms, and sigh.

“This is going to be a process,” he says.

“Apparently.”

“We’ll go slower next time. If…”

“Yes, Gibson. I want there to be a next time.”

His relief is evident in his next breath. “We don’t have to force anything if?—”

“Hey,” I cut him off before he can spiral. “I’m willing to work on it.”

He doesn’t say anything for at least a minute, and when he does, his voice is thicker, and I realize I touched a nerve. “That means a lot to me.”

Because I’m me, and awkward comebacks are my brand, I quip, “I hear kissing it makes it better.”

“What the fuck are you doing to me?”

I don’t know, but whatever it is, I really like it.

33

---