Page 70 of Screwed (Dad Bod Contracting 4)
Then, he can’t kiss me any longer, because he’s out of breath and beyond control. He moves—pushes, thrusts. His thrust is powerful, slow, measured. He drives into me, and I realize that as full of him as I am, I didn’t have all of him inside me. He thrusts, and I take more and more and more of him, so much it’s impossible, and with each inch I take, the more breathless I become.
So…fucking…much.
I don’t need to breathe—I clash my mouth against his and sip his breath, a ragged whimper escaping once I have enough oxygen in my lungs.
His hands cup my ass, lift me, pull the cheeks apart as he lifts—and I help, tightening my thighs around him and pushing up with arms and legs, driving him out of me. As if I am weightless, he lifts me, his hips pulling down and back to draw himself out of me, and now our eyes meet, gazes locking in the moment of hesitation, right before the next movement.
“Nova…” He nips at my lip, holding the moment, keeping me up, waiting to push in. “I—I can’t be gentle.”
I shake my head, dragging words out of my belly. “Please—James. Oh god, please…” I dig my fingers into the ropy cords of muscle along the ridge of his shoulders. I claw at him. “Don’t be.”
“I don’t want to—to hurt you, or scare you.” He’s speaking through gritted teeth. “I just…I can’t—”
I grasp his jaw in fingers shaking with need, gripping hard. “Do I seem delicate to you, James?” I breathe, writhing against him.
“No,” he gasps, the word a short sharp sound. “No.”
“I’m not.”
He rolls his hips in a shallow movement, and I whimper at the teasing glide, the too-little thrust of him inside me. “You make me fuckin’ crazy, Nova.”
“Then give me the crazy,” I say. “Stop talking and show me.”
He keeps his eyes on mine, hesitating another half second more, and then he drives into me. His hips crash against mine and his cock slams into me, thrusting fully into me.
I can’t help but scream, and it’s a scream of pleasure like I’ve never known—pleasure isn’t even close to the right word, but there are no other words to encapsulate how I feel in this moment.
He’s bare inside me, and I can feel every massive inch of him, splitting me open and pushed so deep. I have no idea how I’m taking all of him, but I am, and it’s absolute bliss, pure heaven. Almost painful, but not quite. A burn, an ache as I stretch around him, pulsing and hot. I reach down between us and trace where we’re joined, gasping and whimpering at the hugeness of him inside me. He’s plunged so deep inside me there’s no further he can go, but there’s still more of him. I can almost wrap my hand around his cock at the base, and he’s fully inside me.
I almost laugh at the absurdity of it, but then he starts moving, and I can’t breathe all over again. All I can do is take him, cling to him, hold on as he draws back and thrusts in. The movement makes me shudder, shake. He groans, head hanging now.
“Nova,” he snarls. “Fucking hell, Nova.”
I bury my face against him, my lips at his throat. I nibble, and then bite. “Ohhhh god. Oh god—James.” That’s all the coherency I can muster.
“Is it okay? Are you okay?” So much concern. As if he doesn’t realize I need more. So much more.
I nod jerkily, and writhe on him as best I can—but he has me in his control, his hands on my buttocks holding me up. “Yes!” I gasp. “More. More.”
He lifts, pulls out of me, and thrusts in while lowering me—he does it slowly, carefully. Gently. “Like that?”
I nod, and kiss his throat, nip at his shoulder, and then bury my fingers in his beard and try to kiss him with a shuddery mouth as he repeats—lift and pull back, lower and push in. I can’t sustain the kiss, because I’m too shaken by what he’s doing to me. Keeping my lungs working takes all I have.
I cling to him and whimper.
I try to work with him, move with him. He does his lift and lower routine again, and I find a rhythm in it, move my hips to the rhythm, clinging to his neck with desperate strength, burying my face in his chest, and gasping and nipping until I’m sure he’s going to have hickeys and bruises, but I have to find a way to show him that I want more when I can’t speak.
I’m too full of him to speak. I ache with such delicious fullness. Throb with it. My clit pulsates, and each time he thrusts in his shaft stutters against it, and I shake with it, shudder with it, toppling toward the edge of a world-ending orgasm.
