Decisions VI

His heart pounding, his cock hard and aching, desire and love rushing through his veins, Bill turned his head, rumbled over his shoulder to the bare-skinned beauty clutching and pressing herself to him, “I’m yours, baby.”

And he meant it. He was hers, every bit of him, and he thrilled that she was openly and boldly laying claim to him as a lover. He wanted that, wanted to be hers in every way, for her to take him with the wild and greedy desire she exuded as she held to him, her hands moving over his chest and belly as if declaring sovereignty over his flesh.

He felt her rise against his back, heard a possessive “mine” fell from her lips and he echoed it instinctually with a “yes, yours.” She trembled and clutched to him again, sank her teeth into his shoulder, marking him. He moaned and his cock leapt in his trousers at the pulse of pain then pleasure as she bit then suckled his wounded skin, slow and hard while her nails bit into his pectoral muscles.

Frak, he welcomed that, her claiming, her marks, given with just that purpose, and resolved that whatever she wanted to do to him tonight, he would allow … he wanted.

When she commanded him to turn, her voice a throaty whisper against his skin, he turned.

Her gray-green eyes fixed on his with an intensity that took his breath away, her raw emotions, raw desire and need buffeting him almost hard enough to bring him to his knees.

Then she was kissing him, her mouth hot against his, and yet surprisingly soft, almost tender, love tempering the hardness he’d expected. Languid and lingering, her lips moved over his, with his, with a soul-deep hunger.

He put his arms around her, and pulled her hard to him as her hands slid over his shoulders and up into his hair. She held him to her, humming when he lifted her up onto her toes, flattening her breasts against his chest. Her nipples scored his flesh, piercing, hot points that he wanted to suckle until they were red and swollen and throbbing.

“Laura,” he rasped when she pulled her mouth from his to catch her breath and tell him, “I want you.”

She eased down from him and back just enough to run her hands over his chest once more, gently at first then boldly as she scraped her nails over his nipples on her way down, down to his belt.

She unbuckled it, her eyes downcast, her breaths coming in audible gasps and pants, much like his own. He listened to her. He scented her. He touched her hair and her face, pressing his thumb against her tongue when she captured the digit between her teeth. She suckled it slowly while she unbuttoned his trousers then lowered his fly.

Her eyes returned to his, held deliberately as she pushed his clothing down enough to cause his cock to spring free. It bumped her belly, leaving a trail of wetness on her trembling skin. He held his breath when she took him in hand and stroked him base to tip and back again. It felt so frakking good that he wished he could stand there the rest of his life and let her touch him like that, wished he could stay right on the edge with her, where every thought and feeling and sensation was magnified a thousand-fold, where he felt so keenly alive and connected with her.

Bill shut his eyes, relishing the smoothness of her skin against his own, the firm but gentle grip of her fingers, the cradling warmth of her palm as she pulled his length on each upward stroke, milking drop after drop of precum from him. He moaned for her. He trembled and shuddered. He responded to her, just for her and he loved it, being in her hands, being hers. That she knew it…

“You’re mine,” she whispered as she pushed his thumb from her mouth. It was not a boastful declaration, but an acknowledgement, a deep-seated knowing, and it came with the laying of her hand on his chest.

“Yes,” he breathed, eyes opening to find her looking at where her hand was playing, smoothing along his collarbone to the rise of his pectorals. Her thumb brushed gently over one spot then she leaned slowly in and placed her mouth on his skin.

With a rumbling sigh, Bill sank his hands into her fiery mass of curls as she kissed and suckled, the gentle pull of her mouth matching the easy slide of her hand over his cock and undoubtedly marking him once again. He wanted that, would wear her marks proudly. He told her so, bowing to murmur in her ear his want of more as he cuddled her to him, reveled in the sensual suction and sleek caress of her tongue, the love he felt in both.

Bill sensed things changing, the urgency melting away into something deeper and stronger, no less hungry or primal, but more powerful and moving as love made itself known. It surged through him from her, as her mouth slid upward and her hand cupped his cock against her belly, holding it there to weep as she marked his neck, as she dragged the nails of her other hand across his back, just hard enough to make him shudder with their bite.

It made him want to frak her, to take her and lay his own claim. But this was her time and he let her have it, let her brand him with her mouth and nails, with her teeth. He let her have him, let her do what she wanted and needed to do. He gave himself over to her, following her lead when she took him to the bed and finished undressing him, laying back as she moved over him, closing his eyes and caressing her wherever he could reach as she marked his inner thigh, his hip, his arms and chest once more.

Then she was taking him in hand again and positioning him and he watched her as she sank down on his cock, taking him in with a hum of triumph, her head thrown back as her hands gripped hard at his chest.

“That’s it,” he breathed as he slid his hands up her arms then reached for her breasts, filling his palms with the soft mounds, rubbing them as she began to ride him, easy at first then harder and faster, with a desperation that made itself known with gasps and moans, pleading whispers and urgent murmurings of “please” and “mine” and “Bill.”

In his long years, he had never been taken so earnestly, so honestly … with so much love. He watched her in wonder, fascination, with pride and humility as she let go, her hips hammering his into the mattress, until the slap of flesh was almost as loud her vocalizations. Her hair swayed about her face as she sometimes bowed her head and other times threw it back as she lost herself in the pleasure of dominion.

He tweaked her nipples, plucked them, urged her on with caresses to her breasts, arms and neck, to her belly and then her swollen, throbbing and slick clit, rubbing it with his fingers with a gentle firmness, loving the look of ecstasy that came over her, loving the deep, throaty moan that filled the air between them.

“Gods, I love sex with you,” she confessed then descended to kiss him, hard and deep, quick, breathing into him almost anguished, “I love you so much, Bill.”

That’s all it took for him — a confession of love in the maelstrom of passionate need and he was well and truly hers, utterly and completely, shooting his seed hot in her and hugging her to his chest as her cry of joy at feeling it reverberated in his ears.

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