Page 62 of Shade
I can’t move unless he tells me to. And he doesn’t allow me too. I’m forced to stare at my vagina being jack hammered by a cock and you know, I still have absolutely no complaints. You know what I do have a good view of?
His balls. By the way. . . they’re shaved. Nice and clean.
This position is not only complicated, but it’s also good for me. In fact, I come. Twice. I don’t know where those orgasms originate from because there’s no stimulation against my clit. I can only assume this has something to do with his piercing.
Shade takes complete control, losing himself in me, his breathing ragged, his cock setting a firm rhythm, his intensity catching me by surprise. With his feet flat on the mattress, legs bent, lifting his hips up and down, his hard thrusts let me feel exactly how much he wanted this.
I’m afraid to make any noises because I want to hear what he’s saying, if anything. He doesn’t though. But you know what he does do?
Moans.
Downrightfuckingmoans.
You heard it, too, didn’t you?
Does it affect you the same way it did to me? Does it send your heart rate sailing like mine?
Folded like a pretzel, my muscles screaming at me, Shade finally releases his mouth from my shoulder about the time his body begins to shake.
Had he bit me again?
I hadn’t noticed. Probably from the lack of blood to my brain. His hands unclamp from around my neck, then legs, and my limbs fall around him like a pile of noodles dropped on the floor. I know one thing. I need to do more yoga. I think I pinched a nerve.
He pants against my shoulder, his entire frame shaking as he stops, mid-slide and moans into my skin. Fuckingmoans. “Move,” he says.
I twist my head to look back at him, still completely sheathed inside me. “What?”
“Get off me,” he demands, need blatant in his taut, strong face.
I try to catch his eyes, but he doesn’t allow it and pushes me off him, his message clear. He’s constantly pushing and shoving and demanding and is exactly what I expected.
I’m somehow flat on my back again and he’s on his knees on the mattress, stroking himself with the condom still on, his hair falling in his face disrupting my view of his eyes, though he’s yet to let me see them.
Why’d he pull out?
His entire body stiffens, his strokes frantic and determined as a grunt emerges, pushed past his gently parted lips, and he thrusts upward with his hips into his hand once more. His stomach tightens, and his shoulders tremble along with the rest of his body twitching and moving all the while, his pace frantic on his cock.
Damp, matted hair frames the right side of his face, but his eyes are closed in pleasure.PleasureI’m not giving him.
What. The. Fuck.
I don’t know what to do. I panic a little, blinking rapidly at what he’s doing.
What is he doing? Getting himself off? This isn’t how it’s done, damn it!
He throws his head back and then he comes, hard, cursing lowly, hot bursts of cum filling a fucking condom, his entire body jerking forward as a grunt emerges from deep within his throat, an upward twitch of his hips into his hand.
I don’t know whether to bite the end of the condom and suck like I’m extracting poison from a wound, or watch his face, head thrown back in pleasure when he comes because um. . . hello! Shade Sawyer just fucking had an orgasm in front of me.
Without my help.
What the fuck just happened?
With alarming abruptness, he scoots away from me and swings his legs over the side of the bed, propping his forearms on his knees, breathing heavily.
The hunch of his back indicates reality has set in and maybe he doesn’t want me here any longer. There’s only silence, uncomfortable and uneasy.
I fix my mouth into an easy smile, remaining stubborn and naïve. “You could have finished inside me,” I point out, unsure and on the verge of tears. I won’t cry though. No fucking way. “You didn’t have to pull out.”
