Page 61 of Lamb

I moved up and down and felt traction with each pull, his skin tugging against mine. I was not moving as smoothly as I liked. I needed moisture. I needed lubrication.

A thought filled my mind, and before I could comprehend what I was doing, I had already slipped my hand loose. A growl confirming my other thought rushed out of his chest, but the moment his eyes moved to my hand and saw what I was doing, he quickly shut up.

My fingers were smaller, and my entrance a little tender from his early touch, but I managed to slip in easily, my own moist wetness coating my fingers in a shiny, slippery coating.

I pulled back, not feeling the same sensations as I had from Lamb, but that mattered little. Instead, I studied his face, his black abyssal eyes focused tightly on my hand as I moved my newly wet fingers towards his cock.

I was not sure I could even hear him breathing as I slid my fingers back around his shaft and smeared myself across him. Satisfied with the shiny sheen I had left behind, I wrapped my hand around him and picked up where I had left off. The new lubrication worked delightfully as I built up a steady rhythm up and down his dick. Each ridge and vein slid beneath my touch, and I got acquainted with each one.

Fascinated by my actions, I had almost forgotten Lamb above me until the towel slipped down my back and dropped to the floor. His free hand slid down over my waist, and he expertly manoeuvred his hands straight back to my core and slipped his fingers inside.

“Lam—“ I gasped, but his voice overtook mine.

“Don’t you dare stop,” he commanded, the vibrato travelling through my ear and straight down to my core, the noise meeting his fingers as he built up a fast, rapid movement to match my own.

I turned back to his dick, an intense struggle to concentrate enough to move my hand while his fingers turned my insides into a burning, tingling inferno.

My legs quivered as if I had not just come a few moments ago, and my wrist ached as I matched his punishing rhythm. My hand rapidly wrenched up and down his shaft as his fingers worked me inside and out, his thumb coming around to the front and finding my tender, swollen clit.

I found myself tipping over the edge, but I fought fiercely not to fall. I worked him harder and faster, and I knew the moment he was about to explode. His breath hissed through his teeth, his hips bucked, and his dick seemed to strain against him before a sharp stream of cum burst out of him.

I had no chance to feel the satisfaction as Lamb pushed a third finger inside and pinched down hard on my clit, throwing me hard and fast over the side.

A loud cry burst from my lips as my hands lunged for his shoulders, holding onto him as I rocked through the fireworks exploding from my vagina and rippling across my body. It was faster and more intense than the first had been, and stars danced across my vision.

I was keenly aware of Lamb’s arms wrapping around my waist, pinning my body against him, as I rode out the waves of pleasure ebbing from within.

My breathing was hard and laborious, but it began to calm as the waves settled and thoughts crawled through the thick, soft blanket of pleasure. I also became keenly aware of the warm, wet sensation between mine and Lamb’s abdomens and knew it was not just sweat.

I arched my back just enough to peer down and see where Lamb had coated himself across my skin, and I, in turn, had coated Lamb back in his own cum.

He did not seem bothered. His head was hung, his breath calmer than my own, and his eyes stared down at my face. His eyes were no longer black, but a honey brown, glistened and calm, as they flittered back and forth across my face.

Lamb reached for the cloth and dunked it into the cool water of the tub. He wiped down his abs but was hesitant before doing my own. He moved the cloth tenderly, making sure not to miss a single piece. The cool water was welcomed against my hot, throbbing core, and I was careful not to lean into his hand, scared to start something else I had no energy to finish.

Lamb guided me, still naked, into the bedroom, where he tugged open the sheets and pulled me in before climbing in tightly beside me.

“What? No cuffs?”

Lamb wrapped his hand over my waist, his fingers absently trailing across the surface of my waist, his head buried into the back of my neck. “Not tonight …” he murmurs, sleepiness lacing his voice.

The man was more spent than I had expected.

He pressed tighter against my back, and soon, I could feel his soft, sleepy breaths against the nape of my neck. He was out.

I was not long behind him.

Streetlights filled the darkness with ambient warmth, and I watched the treeline of the woods bordering the town rock in the chilling autumn breeze. Many had lost their leaves; branches bare as winter crept along the horizon.

I wished I could see them clearer, reminiscent of the woodlands that surrounded much of the British countryside estate I had once called home, but all I could make out in the dark night with my reduced vision was brown blurs speckled amongst the jade winter green of the firs.

A few years ago, perhaps I had been able to make out the closest tree or two, but now they were nothing more than a soft blotch of colour in a dark world.

My memories were similar, and as I sat on the small, cushioned chair, knees tucked to my chest, and eyes wandering the empty darkness, I sifted through the fraying pieces of a dull old world I had once lived in.

I heard a muffled shuffle of the silk sheets, and a few moments later, a supernatural warmth washed over my skin. I knew his eyes had found me. It had only been a few hours, but it was longer than I had slept in a while. It had been peaceful and dreamless, which was even rarer.

I waited a while, listening for his sleep-laced voice, but it never came. Lamb was lurking quietly in the darkness, watching and waiting.

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