Page 115 of The Twins
Me.
He half pulled out then blasted back in. The sofa creaked and shifted beneath us. “Ah fuck, yeah…” he moaned and shoved into me some more.
I adored his big cock and the way it stretched me to the point of discomfort, his root expanding my entrance and his tip pushing at my insides. I groaned and bucked.
He set up a fierce rhythm, drumming in and out of me. Driving us both crazy with need and longing for each other. My body was alive and greedy for him, my former frustration and anger lifting me to new heights of desperation.
“You feelin’ it?” he grunted.
“Yes. Yes. Oh…don’t stop.”
Our flesh slammed together as we met halfway on his lunges, his cock driving ever deeper and my clit getting ready to fly into release. We were wild, primitive, and had only one focus.
Then my line of sight settled on the family portrait. This was the room we’d sat in formally with many visitors over the years, and now I was getting thoroughly fucked by my professor on the sofa.
That was really fucking hot.
Was I deranged?
Probably?
I gripped his ass cheeks with both hands now and drew him closer. “Andrew…I’m…I’m…coming.”
He grabbed my hair and angled my face to his. “Come, come now. Squeeze my fucking cock with your pussy.”
He kissed me, his tongue searching for mine, and I toppled into bliss. Holding my breath, I let the sparks of my climax wing around my body, shaking my limbs and thrilling my nerve endings. I became a convulsing orgasmic wreck and cried out, the sound taken into his mouth.
He was coming, too, his release turning his body to granite and his breaths a storm raging from him. He flooded me with wet warmth and stared into my eyes.
I cupped his face and kept my concentration on him. My pussy clenched and unclenched around his pulsing cock.
“Ahh…” he said, his eyelids fluttering a little. “You feel so…when you…ah…yeah…”
I held him tighter, never wanting to let him go. This complex, dangerous man who loved me as much as I loved him had become my everything. Sure, he was a bossy risk-taker, perhaps with delusions of grandeur when it came to saving the world, but I couldn’t stay mad at him. I understood him, and it seemed, he understood me.
“My love,” he said, kissing me softly and slowing. “Promise me something.”
“Anything?”
“You’ll never walk away from me again like that, in the garden.” He paused, caught his breath. “It fucking hurt.”
“As did my spanking.” I frowned.
His mouth tightened. “A result of hurting me. Don’t do it again, okay?”
I pushed a lock of hair from his brow. “You’ll be careful, though, going forward.”
“Galahad?”
“Yes, Galahad. You have to be sure, every time you kill, every fucking time.”
“We will be, we always have been.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “That won’t change.”
“Good.”
“But you’ve changed me,” he said. “I can’t do this without you.”
“What? You can’t do what without me?”
