Twenty-Eight
Zoe
I reached up to unbutton Archer’s shirt, slowly admiring his arms, studying the ridges, the little cliffs and mounds. They signaled hard work and fortitude, years of nothing but honing his mind and body. The result was the beast sitting before me, with his legs spread and his cock pressing against his fly.
He sat back and let me do the work this time. I was glad he did. It was my turn to prove my devotion. His wasn’t in question. I’d done something terrible, and I needed him to know that it wouldn’t happen again, that I wanted to be with him and spend every day trying to make up for pulling away. How could I not? He was such a good man. He’d never walk away from me, not after all the time that we’d spent together. A man like that was worth cherishing—worshipping.
I let him pull his shirt off so I could take in his monstrous form. I was going to memorize every part of him, every scar, every strip of ink, every fiber of his skin. I wanted to burn the image into my mind so that I could remember that this man was real. He cared, and he wasn’t leaving. If I forgot that, I’d take him for granted.
He pulled forward, lifted my chin, and pressed his lips to mine. Then, he grabbed me by the collar and threw me back. He crawled on top of me. It wasn’t about my body. It was the way I sighed when he pressed his tongue through, and the fluttering breath that left my lips when he pushed his hands under my bra so he could cup my breasts, flicking his thumb back and forth, back and forth, over my nipples.
His touch started a chain reaction. Every caress caused another shiver, adding fuel to the fire that spread out from between my thighs. He lifted my shirt up over my head and leaned down to kiss my neck, my chest, and my stomach.
He was already working on the clasp on my bra. It snapped open, fell off, and he feasted. One thumb still danced over my nipple while his tongue circled the other, moving faster and faster, kindling the blaze that got hotter every second.
I reached up to wrap my arm around his back, bracing myself against the heat from his breath, flowing down my body, covering my breasts. It was invigorating knowing that he would forgive me after what I’d done, and that he was so happy that I’d come back.
He moved his hands down my sides, then bit down on my lower lip. He’d been working on the button on my pants, and I’d barely even noticed. He rose up, pulled them off, and threw them beside the couch. I ran my fingers up his stomach, his chest, and his nipples. Archer laughed, low and deep. It was just what my body needed. The heat between my thighs was unbearable—desperate. Nothing could put out the wildfire growing inside me.
His fingers stroked my thighs, moving upwards, edging toward the spot between my legs. His eyes gazed down at me, studying the way I struggled to hold them together, thinking that I could contain the firestorm. He ripped them open and stared down at me.
“Wet and ready,” he said. He slid his finger over my lips.
The heat was excruciating, coupled with an incorrigible desperation. I tried to close my legs again, but he held them apart. “No,” he laughed. “Come here.” His breath poured in, his tongue soon after. Then he pressed my clit between my lips so he could dance his tongue over the tip.
His finger slipped through. He knew where to go now. There was no searching or fumbling around. He got right to the point, moved back and forth, all while licking around my clit. It became a game to him. He matched the movements of his finger and tongue together, moving them both to the same rhythm, faster and faster. I could see him smiling from between my legs.
The throbbing, the heat, and the wetness, all combined, created a torrent of sensations. That feeling moved of its own accord. There was no way I could stop it. I didn’t want to, but I wasn’t sure I could take the shock.
Archer pulled his head up and pinched my clit. “O-o-o-h,” I moaned. Whatever it was that had been growing inside me took hold. It reached out from between my thighs, sending the heat exploding outwards in every direction. I stared up at Archer. He was watching it play out while he stroked his now exposed dick.
He pulled it up and rested it on the space between my lips. Then, with a laugh, he slapped it down hard. The heat rose up again as if it’d never dissipated. “You ready for a second round?” he asked.
I nodded my head.
“If you think you can take it.” He pressed the head of his cock through, then pulled it back out.
“Hey.” I pushed forward to take it in.
He pulled back and slapped his dick down. “Ah.” I jolted up.
“Atta girl,” he laughed.
“Do it.”
“You want me to?”
“Put it in me.”
“Okay.” He pressed his cock through a little further, this time deep enough to get my body pulsing, then pulled it back.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He slapped his dick down again.
“Jesus.” My whole body shot up. He slammed in, slipping deep, past my lips, through to my spot, then back again, always returning back to the place that sent sparks flying through me. His movements, once a consistent wave, became a powerful force, full of passion and careful devotion.
He rested his eyes on mine, digging deeper and deeper, in and out, never once stopping to catch his breath. I pushed into it, hoping to get a reaction out of him. He responded by grabbing my ankle with a roar and lifting it up.
“Ah.”
He hit my spot hard and a sphere of warmth burst out. He wasn’t done, though, and neither was I. He was closing in, his lips pressed to mine while his hips swung up and down, faster now, and with a force that I’d never felt before.
He was claiming me, and I was giving myself to him. We melded together, our bodies and minds intertwining. The moment was coming. I could feel that circle of warmth starting to grow. It became a fireball, scorching flesh and bone, met with a burst of pressure that fueled us both on.
He slipped deep and a stream of hot wetness filled me up, quenching the fire, turning it into a rush of power—blissful, succulent, and overpowering. I wasn’t me any longer, and he wasn’t him. The energy between us had changed all of that. We were the pleasure that was flowing through us.
He stood up and swept me off my feet so he could carry me into the bedroom. We laid down together, and I rested my head against his. The moment felt sacred, like we’d finally let ourselves get close to each other for the very first time.
“I’m sorry that I pulled away from you, Archer.”
“Don’t ever apologize,” he said.
“No, I mean it.” I sat up to look at him. I couldn’t help but kiss his gorgeous face. “I decided something.”
“What’s that?”
“You can’t get rid of me.”
“I should hope not.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m staying here with you. I want to go get some clothes from the apartment so I don’t have to leave again.”
“You don’t need clothes.” He kissed me.
“Maybe not, but what would Mona say?”
“We’ll worry about that in the morning. You’re stuck in bed with me where you belong.” He closed his arms around me, holding me steady while I listened to the sound of heart pounding against my ear. I started to get caught in the rhythm, pulled in by his breath, and I felt myself drifting off.