Chapter Fourteen
Cliff’s hands went to the small of Taylor’s back and his golden-brown eyes went wide as she wriggled astride him and took his cock in her hand, guiding it into place so she could sink down onto his throbbing shaft. With three sharp movements she had him buried balls-deep, and his pupils dilated as if he were drugged. She felt that way too – like she was high on him. Not just high, but addicted. Like she’d do anything to get her next hit.
Her skin felt hyper-sensitive. She didn’t know whether it was from the spanking, something to do with her new werewolf senses, or just because she was so unspeakably aroused, but she seemed to be aware of every tiny sensation. The upholstery of the couch was rough against her knees. The fabric of her skirt was bunched up against her spine. Cliff’s shoulders were firm and supple under her fingertips, and just barely damp with sweat. She could even feel the crisp curls of his pubic hair against the crease between her thigh and her pussy, and when she began to move…the feeling of his cock sliding against the slick, grasping walls of her pussy was agony and bliss.
Taylor slid up and down on his thick, pulsing erection, feeling the delicious burn in the muscles of her thighs, and Cliff let his head drop back against the back of the couch, eyes closed, breath coming in shallow pants between slightly parted lips. Taylor couldn’t resist pressing her mouth against his, and he slid his hands up her back, growling with frustration when her rucked-up skirt got in the way of his questing fingers.
He started to work on the buttons of her bodice, but when she rolled her hips as she sank down onto his throbbing dick, he groaned helplessly and dropped his head to suck her erect nipple through the fabric of her dress. The nub sang in response, furling into an achingly tight point. He moved to the other nipple, massaging it through the damp cotton with the flat of his tongue, then drawing on it with his lips.
She moaned and trembled, digging her fingers into his shoulders, and suddenly he was frantic, yanking at her clothes, wrangling her dress over her head, desperate to have her naked. As soon as she was, his mouth was all over her breasts, licking and biting. He grazed her erect nipples with his teeth. He teased her areolae with his tongue. He drew as much of the soft white flesh into his mouth as he could and sucked it against the roof of his mouth, all the time exploring with his tongue.
When he drew back, he was gasping, and the intensity in his eyes had her clenching helplessly around his cock as she rode him. With one arm around her waist, he twisted on the couch so he could ride her down, pushing her knees up so he could thrust deeply inside her, his movements wild and dominating.
She couldn’t have fought the orgasm if she’d tried. It hit her like a ringing slap, driving her breath from her and making her gasp and arch helplessly towards him, taking him deeper still as her pussy clenched hungrily around his pounding cock. She cried out with each wrenching spasm, moaned with each throbbing pulse, whispering harsh curses, murmuring his name, regaining her senses as he withdrew from her. He sat back on the couch, chest heaving, cock thrusting proudly from his lap and glistening with the slick juices of Taylor’s climax.
She sat up, limbs weak and shaky, pussy pleasantly sore. Her heart was hammering hard and fast in her chest. She pushed damp bangs out of her eyes, then ran her hand up Cliff’s naked thigh, her eyes locked with his and a faint smile on her lips.
His dick twitched expectantly as she slid her hand towards it, and he murmured, “Oh God…” as she wrapped her fingers around it and ran them down the length of his shaft and back up again. Then she lowered her head and, just as she’d fantasized, took the fat, dark-colored tip of his cock into her mouth and sucked on it, swirling her tongue to gather up the pearl of precum that was trembling on the tip. She settled on her knees on the floor, between his parted thighs, and bobbed her head in a rapid rhythm, sucking and licking in counterpoint to the motion.
“Taylor, no, I’m gonna come…” Cliff twisted his fingers in her hair and tried to pull her head away, but she just smiled, mouth full, and slid her hand underneath his balls, gently fondling the delicate globes until she felt them harden and contract in her palm.
Cliff was panting now, and he released her hair to fist his hands in the couch cushions, spine rigid and thighs trembling with the intensity of his reaction to her mouth on him. Faint sounds that could have been desire or distress escaped him with every breath, and she knew he was torn between the onrushing bliss of his orgasm and the desire to fuck her again.
Just as Taylor felt him begin to twitch in her mouth, she made a ring with her thumb and forefinger, grasping the base of his cock to hold back his climax. She withdrew and looked up at him, breathing heavily, turned on beyond measure by the look of wild, desperate need on his face. His remarkable eyes were glazed with passion, pupils so dilated that they almost swallowed up the whiskey-brown of his irises.
Releasing the pressure on the base of his cock, she stroked him from root to tip and back again, squeezing her thighs together to ease the ache there as he squirmed, then tensed, and came, shooting silky streams of semen over her wrist and her breasts.
Somehow they ended up back on the couch, tangled together, Taylor draped over Cliff’s chest as he stroked her hair and twirled the strands around his fingers. They were sweat-drenched and sticky and exhausted. Taylor’s hair looked like a bird’s nest, she had a bite mark on her boob, and she thought she might have rug-burn on her knees. And she’d never felt more beautiful.