Page 44 of Fruit
“Jesus, fuck,” I say, but the motherfucker isn’t done.
He lifts my dress with his unoccupied hand. I help him get it off me, half distracted as he catches my nipple in his mouth, dragging his lips against it before scraping his teeth against my sensitive skin just slightly.
“Holy—fuck,” I cry out. His fingers are still moving against me, sliding more wetness up, relentless, flicking two fingers alternately in quick succession against my clit, each a tease, together a rising tide of pleasure. I wish he had hair to hold onto because, Jesus Christ.
It’s not that I’d thought he’d bebadat sex, but I didn’t think it would be like this. This ruthless scrape of teeth and moving fingers. I didn’t expect to burn so hot so quickly, as if I can’t catch my breath, dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the warmth of him.
I start undulating my hips, rubbing myself against his fingers, pressing his hand down against his hard cock still trapped in his jeans. His other hand moves down to my ass again, squeezing in time with the movement of my body.
I try to open my legs a little further but I can’t, and there’s something delicious about having my panties around my thighs, about having my bra dangling around my waist, about having my dress still on and haphazardly over Sebastián. The impatient rush of it belies that slow first kiss.
“Come up here, come on,” I say, pushing at his shoulder so that he sits back. I kiss him roughly, biting at his lips and licking into his mouth. My hands frame his face, nails scraping down his scalp, and I love the little trapped noises he makes, hot breath between us.
His other hand goes down between my legs. He slips two fingers inside me without pausing the slide of his other hand against my clit. He doesn’t pump them in and out like an idiot. Instead, he hooks them up and rubs them harshly against my wall, as if he wants to reach my clit from the other side.
“Yeah, fuck, yeah,” I say, and I can’t help but move my hips, fucking myself on his fingers. It almost throws off his tempo, but he just follows my movements.
I can feel the heat of pleasure build in my hips, in my toes, in the pit of me. I clench around his fingers, and, God, I want him to fuck me for real, but I’m not going to complain about coming like this first.
I break the kiss, needing to breathe, and Sebastián presses his forehead against mine. I open my eyes, and he’s all a blur, but I can see him watching me, a glitter of black and brown.
“Jesus, don’t stop,” I say. I’m so close. Everything is heat—heat and Sebastián, at the core of me.
I close my eyes as the pleasure crests and then tumbles me over the brink. Everything is a rush of light. I moan against Sebastián’s lips, my toes curling. His fingers continue moving against me, dragging the pleasure out and thinning it until it’s a razor’s blade.
“Ah, Sebastián,” I cry, overstimulated. He drops the fingers away from my clit but leaves the ones on his other hand inside me.
I open my eyes and look at him. This could easily turn into him fucking me, and usually I wouldn’t hesitate. I’m a demanding partner in bed, and two orgasms are a standard minimum for me. Now, however, I want to see him come apart, unimpeded by the haze of pleasure. I want to memorise the gradual destruction of his barriers until his expression is raw and mine to keep.
I push his hand down as I lift up, and there is a momentary ache of emptiness as I slip my panties up again. I grab his hand and raise it to my lips, taking his fingers, wet with me, into my mouth. Guys love that shit, and Sebastián is no exception. It’s always been a bit of a power trip, seeing someone’s expression being taken over with want. Sebastián’s darkens further with deep intent, his mouth parting, the skin around his eyes tightening as if he’s restraining himself. He wants to reach for me, I know, to grab at me and pull me close, but he resists, just watching me.
His fingers press against my tongue, and I release his wrist and practically rip his jeans open. I let his fingers drop from my mouth as I kneel up to yank his pants and underwear down his thighs, twisting for a moment to get them over his knees before sitting on his bare thighs.
I look down and, fuck, that dick looks good. It’s thick and long, the head peeking out of the uncut foreskin as it strains upwards. As I watch, a bead of precum pearls at the slit and drips down. My fucking mouth waters, but I can’t be bothered to find a condom right now. I’ll have to leave tasting for a later date.
Right now, I’m not doubting that there will be a ‘later date’.
I lick my palm and fingers and wrap my hand around the base of his cock. I glance up at his face to see him looking at me intently before my gaze drops down again. I watch as my hand moves up slowly, the tight grip making the foreskin slide up slightly, but he’s too hard to have it come over the head. I twist my hand, sliding my thumb along the vein running across the underside before pressing just under the head, rubbing there.
Sebastián groans slightly, shifting on the couch. His hands come up to hold my hips, but he doesn’t move me. I quirk my lips up at him before I leave the games behind.
I squeeze my hand up and down his cock, and the sudden stimulation has him twitching again. Precum drips from his slit, and he’s getting himself wet enough that I don’t have to pause to lick my hand again. I jerk him off quickly, just at the edge of tightly, and his hips start moving so that he’s fucking into my hand.
I look up and watch his face. His head is tilted back, breaths passing parted lips quickly. There’s a flush to his dark skin. His eyes, almost closed, are glowing. He swallows roughly, and I can see the vulnerable stretch of his throat bob. I can tell he’s getting close. His eyes are lost in pleasure, the hands on my hips clenching and unclenching.
Abruptly, my hand stops moving around him. His hips jerk and still in surprise, his hands holding me tightly as he groans. I slide a tight fist up his cock slowly, and I watch him watch me as I rub against where his foreskin folds down and then up to the slit at the tip of his cock. His hips twitch again as if they’re not sure if they want to come closer or shy away from my hand.
I let go of his cock, and his eyes open fully to watch me. I lift my hand and trace his open lips, lush and slick from our kisses, getting them even wetter with his precum. His tongue comes out, licking my fingers, and I smile. I push my fingers into his mouth and a shiver goes through me as he sucks on them.
My hand drops down again, wrapping around his dick once more as I lean forwards to kiss him. I pick up the pace, but the kiss is slow and thick like honey, and just as sweet.
I break the kiss to watch him approach the edge. He closes his eyes, tilting his face up. He’s a moving work of art, all of the little muscles in his face tightening, his lips parting, and in that panting moment, as I see him break apart, he opens his eyes.
“Iva,” he says, moans, breathes. The cracked, dragged-out tone of his voice goes through me like his orgasm is mine. His hips move as he comes between us, striping his shirt in white. Jesus, I didn’t even undress him, I was so desperate to get my hands on him.
Watching the aftermath is just as sweet. I let his cock go, placing it on his thigh when he starts twitching with overstimulation. He’s slumped against the couch, eyes closed as he catches his breath. His hands are still gripping my hips as if he’s anchoring himself.
I look until his eyes flutter open. I can’t help but lean forwards, kissing him softly at the tail of one of his eyebrows, on his temple, the edge of his lips. He tilts his head, and I capture his lips in mine. We kiss, syrupy sweet and slow.
