Page 146 of Mine

“Oh fuck,” I moaned.

I took him with ease, his fingers brushing against my G-spot. The spot he always found with confidence and knew how to tease so well. I was so incredibly wet.

“I feel so full,” I whimpered.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

With the vibrator, everything was a thousand times more intense. My nerves popped and snapped, every part of me drowning in the sensations.

The mounting pressure was different this time. Every time his finger circled my G-spot, the pressure grew and grew. I recognized the same feeling I'd had the first night he and I were together.

“Salt,” I gasped. “I might squirt. Stop before I squirt.”

“We're not stopping,” he said. “Not stopping for anything. Let your body do what it needs to do.”

“Salt,” I cried. My cheeks flamed. “I don't want everything to get ruined.”

His palm slapped my ass. “Come,” he demanded.

There was no possible way I could come a fourth time. Right? There was no way, and yet every muscle started to tremble as the pressure grew again.

He maintained the rhythm, never faltering, never stopping.

A sob left me. I was shattering, my mind overwhelmed.

I loved it.

My voice cracked as I cried his name, begging him to stop. I knew he wouldn’t. I didn’t want him to.

This time when I came, my entire body seemed to go with it. This was the closest I’d ever get to heaven. Liquid gushed from me, dripping to the floor, squirting everywhere. Salt thrust his fingers into me faster, sending my body into a frenzy.Am I screaming?I wasn’t sure of anything except my hellish climax.

This was the type of pleasure I’d been missing out on my entire life.

My body went limp, everything floating…drifting… My pussy was raw, my throat parched, every muscle spent. The vibrations stopped as tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Good girl,” Salt purred. “You did so well for me. You’re so pretty when you’re my little mess, baby. I love seeing you like this.”

I heard his words and smiled, but that was all I could do.

“Let’s get you out of these ropes.”

I whined as I felt the tug of them. My eyes drifted open and then closed, catching glimpses of him as he untied me—glimpses of the dark roses that inked his neck and the thorns that trailed down his chest.

This was my church. This was where I’d kneel. His eyes were stained glass windows, his body a temple, and he was a god I wanted to worship. A kinder god than the one I’d been raised to love.

His arms cradled me as I was lowered to the floor. I smiled up at him, watching as his brows knit together.

He always did that when he was worried. Always broody. Always thinking.

I wondered what that scowl would look like in twenty years. What would he be like? What wouldwebe like?

“Baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing my forehead. “Talk to me. You’re being quiet right now.”

“I feel so good,” I croaked. “I feel drunk.”

“It’s the endorphins.”

---