He’s adorable when his patience snaps. I want to watch his control dissolve nightly for the rest of my life. He’s a flurry of arms and kicking legs as he trades his underwear for latex protection. I’m just as frantic as I struggle to wedge my booties through the holes of my panties. Bratty lacy frills catch on everything!
“Last chance,” he says with a punishing grip on my hips. My weeping entrance is a centimeter from her prize, but he’s too strong for my leg muscles to drop my weight. “Say the word. My blue balls and I will cuddle you to sleep. We don’t have to do this.”
“I want what’s mine,” I growl. My aggression startles him into lessening his grip. I slam down on him, lodging him firmly inside me.
No one breathes. We stare at the place where our sexes join.
He doesn’t bump my cervix or burn my walls like the massive toys I own. I’m full. I’m complete. My walls ripple along him. My inner temptress dares to squeeze my pelvic floor muscles. His answering groan is music to my ears. The bottom of his chin is pointed at me.
“Is this, okay?” I ask with a slight bounce on him.
“I’m in heaven,” he groans. “I’m sorry I don’t vibrate. Your fiancé doesn’t have a battery compartment.”
“That’s why marriages aren’t a solo venture,” I purr.
I draw my elongated tongue from my hackle, unfurling the proboscis like a moth. When the wet tip flicks against the base of his shaft, his sharp intake of breath pricks at my confidence. I learn his musky flavor with small licks as he teases my nipples. Sex with a partner means twice the hands, twice thesensations, and a thousand times more pleasure. My body sways with overload.
“Oh, sweet heaven, please move! Sitting inside you without thrusting my hips is killing me!” Awkward as a table with a shortened leg, I rock and bounce before finding a smooth glide.
“You like?” I’m not sure if I’m asking about the movement, my proboscis, or me…
“I love everything about you,” he whispers.
His words electrocute the pleasure center in my brain. Orgasm becomes my sole focus. My inhibitions flutter to the ground below us. I wrap my tongue around his shaft tight and vibrate. The tip bats at my clit with each pulse. My buzzing fills the nest as if a swarm of monarchs’ calls for mates. My vaginal walls clamp down on him as my brain floods with endorphins.
He curls at the waist. The new angle squeezes my tongue between us. His head rubs against my g-spot with delicious strokes. I’m cuddled close by his hand pressing between my wings as he suckles at my breast.
When I open my eyes, our gazes meet…
…and I detonate.
His cries of ecstasy sound miles away. My body goes rigid in hyper focus. The pulse of his orgasm inside me intensifies the waning orgasm that seems to go on forever. I’m rocking as he lifts me from his body. My limbs flop like a rag doll. I recoil my proboscis against the sandy texture of my dry mouth.
My scream echoes in the silence of the forest. Not even the crickets dare to chirp.
“Let me recuperate before you jump me again,” he says before gulps of air.
“We get to do that again?” I ask in a soft, drowsy voice. I think I lost my bones somewhere. I’m a blob of jelly.
“Oh, my beauty, my brain spins with the ways I can serve you,” he whispers.
“How about you be the big spoon? You’ve plum wore me out.”
“Anything you want.”
Chapter 13
Horus
“Come in,” I shout from my office within the conservation center. Who knew sexting with my prissy wife-to-be could be so fun? I imagine a flush blooming on her cheeks and creeping down her dress like perverted vines. Her reprimands are foreplay with kissy emojis at the end. My hands itch to touch her again. I think I’m dying from withdrawal.
Time crawls to our wedding in four hours. I kept my promise to Matthew to stay out of the forest this week, but not seeing Millie unraveled my calm veneer by the day. She dominates my thoughts and haunts my dreams. I’ve done nothing at work. No new coal fly data means the bulldozers stay put, and Millie’s treehouse is safe. Plus, no one can follow me to the treehouse if I’m not commuting from there to here. To expose her to danger when we are so close to freedom would be a tragedy.
They say parting makes the heart grow fonder, but I’m starving for her presence.
“Wow, this place is neat as a pin,” Amber says, as she drags a white garment bag into my office. “Why does your Carter office look like a war zone if this office is shipshape and tidy?”
“Because this office I care about,” I grumble without thinking.
