He growls, wordlessly, feral snarl of masculine pleasure, and his hips buck. I moan at this, loving his response.
He knots his fists in my hair. "Noelle—fuck. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Your mouth. God, your sweet fucking mouth."
"Mmmmm…" I moan. "Mmmm-hmm?" Pull away, the tip popping free from my lips with a sound like a bursting bubble in a cartoon. "Tell me how it feels, baby."
Baby?
Where did that come from?
He groans—at my stroking hands, perhaps, or at the term of endearment. Or both. “Heaven. Feels so fucking amazing. Hot, wet, tight mouth. Soft lips. Soft hands. My god, Noelle. Please, fuck, please don't stop."
"Mmmm-mmm," I hum the negative, kissing the fat round head again, licking, tasting. "Never. Not until you come for me."
"Almost," he murmurs. "Sofucking close."
I fill my mouth with him. Dare more—slide my lips around his jaw-stretching shaft and then back to suckling around his tip. This makes him jerk, shoving his hips helplessly upward, driving his length into my mouth again. I let him—and even drive downto take more of him as he thrusts. He gasps in ecstasy, shocked, ragged, and wild.
"Oh god, Noelle. Oh god." His fists clench hard in my hair, tugging at my scalp with a delicious tinge of pain.
I let my hands both wrap around him, then, plunging down and sliding up, faster and faster, while my mouth suckles around his tip, pushing down inch by inch, swallowing as much of his cock as I can take.
His hands spread to gently cradle my head, and his heels dig into the mattress, pushing his hips up, and he groans, long and low.
Faster.
I taste sweetness and musk, tang and smoke. Moan the flavor of him.
He growls, my new favorite sound—my core spasms with arousal as he cuts loose a vicious, ripping snarl of ecstasy, and every muscle in his great, massive, mighty body quivers, lost to the mercy of my two little hands, my mouth.
Me…
I'mgiving him this.
I feel him shake, tensing all over, the growl becoming a breathless, wonder-filled gasp. "Noelle!" For a split second, his fingers tighten with merciless strength around my head, but in the same instant he releases me and his touch returns, delicate and gentle.
How do I tell him I like it a little rough, that I like a little bit of a bite with my pleasure?
A worry for later.
At this moment, I crave his release. His utter, abandoned, pleasure.
"Noelle," he grates, his voice raw and raspy. "Gotta come. Fuck—fuck, fuck. Oh god, Noelle.Noelle."
I have no idea what to expect when he comes. I've never done this before. I fantasized about it, daydreamed of it, fingered myself while imagining it. I understand, mentally, what's going to happen, but the real, physical experience of something is never equal to the idea of it.
I'm scared, for a second. What if—
I push the doubts away. Bear is gasping my name on repeat, chanting my name as he nears his release. He's all the matters. This moment. This connection. This act that I can give him.
I taste his essence on my tongue, and I feel his cock pulsing in my hands, throbbing against my lips. I cradle his balls in one hand and stroke his length with the other, lips wrapped around the head, tongue swirling, lapping, flitting, smearing.
"Ahhhh god, fuck, Noelle—" he thrust off the bed, a wordless roar torn out of him as he finally unleashes his orgasm.
A hot flood washes out of him, filling my mouth. I taste him, the flavors of his seed exploding on my tongue as I swallow and swallow and swallow frantically. He arches, hands shaking on my head as he bellows again, another rush overwhelming my mouth—I can barely swallow it all before he comes yet again, and now I can't take it all. It leaks out of my mouth, trickling down my lips to my chin.
Again and again, his hot, thick, pungent seed fills my mouth, shockingly intense, and seemingly endless.
Finally, the flood ends, and he's gasping, groaning, panting raggedly. I keep going, desperate to milk every last droplet of his pleasure out of him as I can. As I continue to stroke and suckle, he spasms yet again, and this groan seems almost broken, shattered.
