Jess
Thorn was surprisingly gentle when he kissed me, and I could tell he was giving me plenty of time to pull away, if that was what I wanted to do. I appreciated that level of respect from him. Underneath it all, I could tell that Thorn wasn't really a bad guy, for all of his machismo and seeming lack of moral inhibitions.
I whimpered into the kiss, wordlessly begging for more. My hands roved over his pecs and out to his biceps, fingertips digging into his muscles as I tried to find something — anything — to ground myself with. I felt practically consumed by fiery passion, though, as though all the bickering and tension of the past few days was culminating in this moment. As one of his hands slipped down my side and landed against my lower back to pull me even closer, I groaned, dropping my forehead down to rest against his collarbone.
“I want to take you apart, until you're practically screaming my name,” Thorn growled, pushing me back so that I lay flat against the bed as he crawled on top of me. He settled over me, catching the hem of my shirt in his hands and tugging it unceremoniously up over my head. He grinned down at me, catching a handful of my breast and squeezing it through the bra. “That's a pretty bra you have on, considering that you were practically kidnapped...”
I blushed a little and squirmed beneath his touch, already desperate for more. I bit my lip as he reached behind me and deftly unhooked my bra, pulling it away to reveal my pale boobs. He leaned down to nibble and suck at the nub of my left breast. I couldn't help the gasp that slipped out, and I arched against him, wanting so much more. He grinned up at me and moved to the other breast, repeating his ministrations until both my nipples were puckered and pert.
Belatedly, I reached up to undo the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel skin-on-skin contact. But the buttons kept slipping from my shaking fingers as he explored the area between my jaw and my breasts using his tongue, teeth, and the rough pads of his fingers.
Finally, he pulled back, laughing a little, and began removing his own shirt, revealing plane after plane of tanned skin and solid muscle. I licked my lips, feeling the sudden urge to taste every inch of the skin that he uncovered. “Like what you see?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
I stared unabashedly at him, not even sure what words to use to convey just how much I liked what I saw. I could feel my panties becoming wet, though, and I was sure that would be indication enough, if he would ever quit teasing my areolas and move someplace lower.
Suddenly unable to take it anymore, I moved my hands to my own jeans and started to undo them, needing to feel more than teasing touches through the fabric. But Thorn caught my hands and pinned them up above my head. “I don't think so,” he said, leaning in to murmur against the shell of my ear. He trailed the very tip of his tongue down to the earlobe and grazed his teeth gently against the fleshy bit of skin there, making me writhe against the sheets.
“Thorn,” I whimpered, twisting my wrists in a vain attempt to free them. “Please, I need more. Please.”
“How long has it been since a man touched you like this?” Thorn asked, grinding down against me and igniting my need even more, if that was possible.
I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut. “Please,” I tried again.
“How long?” Thorn repeated, pulling back almost entirely, so that the only points of contact between us were his hand pinning my wrists and his knees on either side of my hips.
“Eight months,” I finally gasped, even though I was embarrassed by the admission. “I haven't ... in eight months.”
“Emmanuel not interested in it?” Thorn asked, sounding surprised.
I shivered a little. “I wasn't,” I told him. “Emmanuel wanted to ... a couple times. But I wasn't...” I could feel shame taking over my expression, but Thorn leaned down to kiss that away.
“Good,” he said gruffly. “I figured you must be smarter than all of that.”
I giggled a little, hardly believing when the noise came out of my mouth. But almost as a reward, he moved his mouth down, trailing it below my navel and spreading my thighs. He lingered there for a moment, tasting the skin between my navel and my core, making me tremble with desire. But finally, he reached for the closure of my jeans and swiftly removed them, replacing the warmth of my panties with the warmth of his mouth.
“Oh fuck,” I gasped, surprised by the touch. “That feels...” I trailed off, pressing my face against my arm but still keeping my wrists pinned up above my head. I whined, wanting to touch Thorn. But I wasn't going to go against what he wanted…
“Oh yeah?” Thorn asked, grinned wickedly up at me.
He continued to flick his tongue over my nub, trailing his fingers over the sensitive parts that his mouth wasn't touching. Just the very tip of his tongue breached my entrance, and I whined, needing more than that. But he continued to take things slow, to draw hushed noises of pleasure out of me.
Suddenly, it was all too much, and I shifted my hips desperately, suddenly wondering how much he wanted me to lie there and take it and how much he wanted for me to fight against him, show him the pleasures that he deserved to receive. There was, of course, no denying that he wanted me to come before the night was over, but that didn't mean that was all he wanted.
I looped my feet behind him and urged him back closer, trying to slot my lips to his. This kiss was more frenzied than the previous ones that we had shared, and I wondered if underneath it all, he was just as turned on and over-stimulated as I was.
“Yes,” Thorn suddenly hissed, his voice low and needy-sounding as I ground up against him.
I couldn't help my amusement, my face twisting into a grin as he ground down against me, trying desperately to get the same angle, where I could feel his hard, thick length pressing in between my folds. “Take these off,” I whispered, tugging at his pants.
Thorn pulled back for just a moment before complying, pulling a condom out of his pocket before revealing first his boxer-briefs and then his naked form. He was every bit as impressive as I'd expected him to be, and I couldn't wait to feel him inside of me, now unfettered by our layers.
I pressed my head against the pillow and reached for my own panties, pulling down the flimsy, pink thong before he even had a hand on it. “You have no idea how badly I need you,” I informed him as I flung my panties carelessly off to the side.
“Oh yeah?” he asked, dipping a hand down between my legs.
“Yeah,” I agreed breathlessly, pressing down against his fingers. No matter how much I willed my hips to stay still, I seemed to have met my match, faced with his thick fingers plunging towards my core. He was hitting all the right spots, making me whimper and gasp with need. I could come easily like this, I realized, with his fingers scissoring ruthlessly inside of me.
And he kept changing up the angle, the rhythm, the feeling, every time I started to get used to the feeling of him there inside of me. I couldn't help moaning against the sheets, digging my heels in as I shivered against him. “Could come so easily,” I informed him breathlessly.
He smiled down at me, looking pleased with himself. “So come for me,” he murmured, lips ghosting along my jawline. He changed the rhythm of his fingers one final time, dragging them down the walls of my pussy, and I cried out as my climax washed over me in wave after wave of pleasure.
Before I'd even managed to string together a coherent thought, he was there, pressing the tip of his member up against my hole, pushing slowly in. I could feel my sheath shuddering against him already, trying to accommodate his wonderful girth. He finally bottomed out, and I reveled in the feeling of having him there, all around me and filling me from the inside too.
He paused like that for a moment, and given the look on his face, I didn't know if he was giving me more time to adjust to the breach or if he was pausing to give himself a chance to calm down a little so he didn't come right away.
When he actually started moving, beginning with just a few slow movements back and forth, sliding easily through my slick passageway, we moaned almost simultaneously. He pulled out until just the very tip of his penis was still inside of me and then shoved back inside, and I arched against him, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to. I clung to him as he repeated this movement, increasing the pace until it was almost too much for me to bear.
My body drew taut with pleasure, and my soft pleas grew louder and louder. With one final, quick push into me, he sent me spiraling through yet another climax. This time, when I orgasmed, he did as well, his hips jerking against mine as he lost the rhythm and then stilling as he spilled.
He collapsed down onto me, but I didn't mind the weight. I enjoyed the closeness and the warmth, and it grounded me a little, brought me back to where I was. Finally, he pulled away, and I blinked muzzily up at him. “That was—”
Before I could finish the thought, he put a finger over my lips, shushing me. He carefully arranged us both under the covers, pulling me back to rest against his chest. “That was sex,” he told me. “Nothing more, nothing less. Just sex.”
Something inside of me ached at hearing that, but I knew that was true. Once these packages were delivered, I definitely was never going to see him again, and I was going to make every effort to make sure he couldn't find me even if he wanted to. This was just sex. Just lust, just attraction, just getting out some tension. Just sex.
I fell asleep with those words playing through my head. Just sex.