Page 86 of Pragma
Yep, definitely the only one.
The skin slapping against skin, the feel of body on body, the veins bulging over his muscles and smooth skin. How can I possiblynotcrave him?
“I imagined rubbing my cock over your face and unloading on your chest, shooting on these rosy nipples, covering these sexy pecs, and rolling down your hard abs,” I confess, yielding to the urge of sucking his chin.
His blue eyes turn molten, and he lunges for my mouth. He sucks. He bites. He kisses me with utter ownership.I nearly sob with satisfaction. My hands go into his hair and hold his face to mine as I take control of his mouth.
He rams into me, over and over, and unlike the grip on my throat, the thrusts of his hips are bruisingly strong. I feel so unbelievably wanted as his lips brush against my hairline, his hot breath, his grunts loud and harsh. It’s all so damn perfect.
“Finish inside me, sir,” I beg him, as my dick leaks on my belly.
It only takes a few more seconds of him rutting into me, and then he roars and his body jerks violently. I get that glorious sensation of him unloading inside me.His warm jizz fills me up as I squeeze my inner walls around his thick cock, draining it of all it’s got. Each jerk spills more cum inside me. The hot jets filling me make me purr with satisfaction at the rightfulness of it, of having this man inside me. With me.
I own him wholly, with my body, with my heart, and with my black soul.
He suddenly presses his front to mine, and using his abs, he starts stroking my aching cock. His cock is battering my ass once again, while his hard, smooth skin strokes against my length.His hand slides down and pulls at my balls, while the other one plays with my sensitive nipple.
He’s attacking me on every front.
“Shower my chest with cum, baby, come on,” he says, remembering what I told him earlier. This man. He always gives me what I want.
I cry out, and once again, ropes of cum leave my tip as I feel like shattering into a million pieces, floating around to surge with his to tie us forever into one.
I sink against the table, exhausted. Dopey smile in place.
A little while later I open my eyes to stare into his beautiful ones. “Fuck, don’t pull out just yet,” I complain when he starts to move.
We’ve been doing it so many times in the last month that it’s more natural for me to have him inside me than out.
He doesn’t look away. “Wasn’t about to. Just wanted to show you my cum-covered chest,” he teases me. But it is a beautiful masterpiece. He is. He has his hair in a bun on the top of his head. He never covers his left side anymore. People still stare, and I still flip them off or cut them. But I like this new carefree River.
Our faces nearly touch with him bent over me, our bodies still joined as his hand eases away from my dick. He licks the jizz off his palm, sending a shiver down to my toes, and then brushes his fingers over the bunny earring.
“What is it, baby bunny?”
He’s looking at me so intensely. He responds, placing his lips on mine. I quickly found out River loves to make out. And he has an entire repertoire of kisses.
The soft kisses that he randomly plants on me when we are at our place, watching cartoons, eating, planning the demise of my enemies. The teasing ones to rile me up while we are sparring. The long, exasperated ones to shut me up or make me forget something. The hot ones that he doesn’t seem to be able to resist giving me while we shower. The horny kisses that are designed to make me lose my mind and end with my ass being filled up with dick. The ones out of jealousy and possessiveness—those are my fucking favorite. And kisses like the one he’s giving me now, needy and warm. They make me feel as though I did it. I found out the meaning of life, ofmylife. And it’s River.
“From today forward, I’m yours and you are mine, until we die,” he whispers possessively, licking between my lips before pulling back.
“Nonsense. We’ve always belonged to each other,” I retort, because it’s true.
He grins, and I feel the need to poke the bear. “Is it okay for me to miss your ornery self?”
He raises a brow at me, “Keep talking, and he’ll be back in no time.”
“If you love me...” I add.
He cuts me off, “I’m starting to question that.”
I smirk at him. “And the ornery bunny is back! Aww, you do love me.”
He shakes his head and then pulls out of me a little too fast. I wanted ornery…
Ourmontsuki—the Japanese man’s wedding formal wear—are hanging on the rack near the window. Mine is a white silk kimono to his black, both with the river snakes, the familymonon the back and sleeves, paired with gray silver pleated pants. I wanted to use a bolder color for mine, butAne-sanforbade it.
I dyed the tips of my hair white for the ceremony as well, which will start very soon. Fuck!
