Page 86 of When It's Us
“Again,” I say. “Green. More, please.”
His lips tip up in a smirk. “Since you asked so nicely.”
He brings the belt down across the same breast and then immediately across the other, and I swear I almost come. My skin screams, white hot desire flooding my veins, my body shaking, wetness slick between my thighs.
When my eyes leave his to track the movements of his hands over the tender flesh of my chest, I can see the red marks the belt has left. My pussy clenches on nothing and I let out a moan when he leans over me, his long hair and the weight of that silver pendant around his neck tickling my skin, to take a swollen nipple in his mouth.
When he pulls back, he’s wearing that signature smirk that drove me nuts days ago but now makes me dizzy with want. He’s still half dressed, with no shirt and jeans open at the waist, letting the tiniest sliver of dark boxer briefs show. I remember what his cock looks like up close, the metal piercing, the impressive length of him, the heaviness of it. Still even bared only halfway to me, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
His eyes dip down to between my thighs.
“You’re drenched, California.”
There’s a desperate edge to his low voice, and it shakes a little with every breathless word. He runs the leather over my tits, alternating that with barely there taps against my skin.
I’m out of my mind with need, the slow drag of the belt, the soft slaps that leave me aching, arching my back, wanting him to increase the force but loving the slow torture, the expectation of that next stinging snap of the belt making me moan.
“I know.” I nod, no shame in sight.
“I think…” He trails off, dragging the belt over my chest and down my stomach. “I could get you to come,” he goes on, dragging it over my hip and down to my knee, “just,” he places a kiss on my hip, “like,” one just above my pubic bone, “this,” one to the inside of my knee.
His breath ghosts over my clit, his nose brushing the curls above it as he breathes me in. “What do you think, filthy girl?”
I whimper at the faintest touch and rock my hips up, desperate to get his mouth on me. I crave the skill he wields with that tongue, and I want it.
“Please,” I manage to say.
“Please what?” Hutch asks, moving up my body, his tongue blazing a hot trail over my hip, up my stomach, and between my breasts.
When his face is directly over mine, and all I can see and smell is him, his long hair loose, dark beard, and deep blue eyes.
“Make me come,” I beg.
Moving back down my body, he places a series of quick hits, one across my chest, one to my abdomen, and one to my inner thigh. With each strike, my skin sings with pleasure and my clit throbs with need, breath hissing out between my teeth. Anticipation bubbles in my veins, and my toes curl waiting for the final strike that I know will undo me.
His eyes connect with mine, and with a final flick of his wrist, the sharp sting of the belt snaps against my clit.
My vision swims as my orgasm rips through me. My legs shake, my back arches as I cry out, searing pleasure mixing with pain as wave after wave of desire rolls through my body. I’ve never come so hard, never felt this good. It feels like I’m outside of my body, hovering somewhere in warm delirium. I’m vaguely aware of a sheen of sweat coating my skin and I shiver.
“Jesus fucking Christ, that was hot,” I hear Hutch say.
When I open my eyes, slowly coming back down from the glorious high he just catapulted me into, I take him in. He’s still in the same position, resting on his knees, belt gripped loosely in the hand resting on his thigh, the other he uses to squeeze his cock through his jeans. His chest rises and falls as he watches me, eyes roaming over my body before coming back to rest on mine.
It takes effort after the complete destruction of my muscles through the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life, but I manage to push up onto my elbow and reach for his hands still roughly tied with my own panties. I grip him through his jeans, before working his boxers down past his tip.
A groan rumbles in his chest when I wrap my hand around his length and give a short stroke. He pulls my hand out, unties the panties around my wrist, and pushes to stand in front of the bed.
Moving to my knees, I help him work his pants and boxers down his hips and legs. He steps out of them, and for the first time in six months, I’m met with the most glorious view as I stare up at him.
He grips my head in his palm and leans down, taking my mouth in a bruising kiss, all tongue, taking exactly what he wants from my mouth. I reach up and take his cock in my hand, giving him a couple of long strokes, which elicits a delicious moan into my mouth.
“Please tell me you brought condoms,” I murmur against his lips.
He stills. “Hell yes, I did.”
“Oh, thankGod,” I whimper.
He straightens, pressing a big palm to my chest. I let him push me back until I’m lying flat on my back again, him kneeling between my thighs.
