“Why am I so wet there?” she asked.
He made a choking sound, then said, “Because your body wants me. It is preparing for my entry.”
“Oh.”
“Can you guide me into your body, sweetling?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll help. Raise yourself up a bit.”
He placed himself at her entrance, but she knew… she just knew… his massive size would never fit in her. She was right. Only the head went in.
She looked at him with dismay.
But Toste, still leaning back on his elbows, was staring with carnal concentration at the place where they were partially joined. Then he reached one hand forth and used his forefinger to strum that bud which was apparently exposed by her widespread thighs.
She saw stars for one brief moment and her inner muscles clasped and unclasped him, pulling him in halfway.
“That’s a good girl,” he encouraged her. “I don’t want to hurt you. Go slow. Just a little more.”
She had no idea how to go fast or slow. She was obeying her body’s commands at this point.
He tweaked her nipples, and she took more of his manpart.
He spread her thighs wider, and she took a bit more.
He tap-tap-tapped her woman-bud with his thumb, and she screamed as her body began to peak.
With a roar of frustration, Toste flipped her over on her back and thrust himself into her, up to the hilt. She winced at the pinching sensation, but he made soothing sounds in her ear and did not move. Only when her body relaxed did he pull out slowly, almost all the way, then go in again, very slowly.
She sighed.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Am I hurting you?”
She shook her head. “Am I hurting you?”
He laughed. “Only in the best possible way.” No more talking after that. He took her ankles and pressed them up against her buttocks, then spread her knees wider. For a long, long time then, he stroked her, long and slow. Then he got faster and faster and shorter and shorter, till she was wailing and peaking almost continuously. Was it possible to die of too much pleasure? She loved the friction of his plunging on her inner walls. She loved the way the base of his manpart hit her woman-bud every time he came home. She loved the fullness of him imbedded in her.
When it seemed she could take no more pleasure, and Toste was gasping for breath, he raised himself on straightened arms, his neck thrown back. Like a Norse god he looked. Blond and glorious. Then he thrust himself into her one last time and roared out his triumph. She rippled around him in yet another peaking.
After that, he slumped over her body, completely sated. In truth, he might have fallen asleep for a moment.
When he raised his head finally, he gazed at her in wonder, leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips, and murmured, “That was good.” Then he grinned and remarked, “One down and ten more to go.”
Esme glowered up at him, as if he’d given her a painful reminder of their punishment pact, but in truth she did not mind at all. Sometimes, “punishment” was not such a bad thing.
It’s hard work, but someone’s gotta do it…
Toste awakened after midnight with a smile on his face. And not just because he smelled like a bloody rose.
He should get up and put more wood on the fire. The room was cool because the fire had burned down to embers. He did not get up immediately, though. He was too comfortable with Esme curled up on him like honey on a hot rock. He chuckled to himself at that apt description. She made honey like a busy little bee, and he was definitely hot and rock-hard.
Already Esme had chipped three days off her confinement. And though she would never admit it, she had enjoyed the process immensely, as much as he had… or more. Holy Thor, his almost-nun had taken to lovemaking like a harem houri. The second time she’d made love to him, she’d ridden him like a horse. And a fine rider she was, too. The third time she’d licked him till he was the one to surrender, even though she’d avoided that most important place of all.