Phera steadied her as it receded at last, pushing her back onto the chair with a gentle kiss. Aryn opened her eyes, panting, exhausted and saw the flash of fire in Phera’s eyes once more. Oh, no. No more. Her head was shouting it, but her mouth would not, and Phera took her again, growling into her with exuberant sounds of delight as she suckled and thrust without mercy, bringing Aryn to a howling maelstrom of climax again and more, boiling over, the heat unbearable, until at last Aryn fell forward against her, sobbing and grasping incoherently at her mica-littered hair.
The demon dancer untangled the pants from her feet and pulled her down into her lap, letting Aryn cling to her until the sobbing ebbed. She kissed Aryn with her own smoldering scent, her face sticky with Aryn and rolled with her onto the pillows as Aryn quieted, dragging a blanket of silk across their bodies as they tumbled, limbs threading in their own elaborate dance.
It should have been freezing in the attic room, but Phera’s body was warm and humid against her. Phera lay back, her dark hair snaking across the pillows, candle and moonlight turning the adorned tresses into a swell of dark, rippling waves that hinted at the power she had drawn from Aryn’s body, and sighed. Her dark-tipped breasts were heaving as if she too were depleted and scarce of breath.
“I’ve never even met a demon who would sit still for that,” gasped Phera, sounding pleased and a bit amazed. Aryn could only hum against her shoulder in answer. Phera curled her body around Aryn’s and pulled her back against her, brushing her fingers along Aryn’s thigh as she rested her head in the hollow of her collarbone. “Well, sweet Babe,” she murmured sleepily. “You’ll have to show me how well you suckle in the morning. You’ve worn me out.”
Aryn was drifting toward unconsciousness, her body so relaxed that it might have melted into a puddle, when Phera sighed and spoke once more as if in her sleep. “Don’t fly away, little angel,” she mumbled against her nape, her arms tightening around her. “I haven’t had a chance to punish you yet for being naughty.”
A QUICK FUCK IN A SHADOWED CORNER
Sinclair Sexsmith
The club is dark enough that no one can tell Kristen is on her knees in front of me. She found a particularly shadowed corner. Her back is to the wall, my hands up against it and my head dipped down to watch her lips close around the shaft of my cock.
Her short skirt is pushed up on her thighs. I run my hands through the short hair on the back of her head and straighten my neck to see a friend approaching me.
“Sinclair! I haven’t seen you in…” She stops a few feet away and I twist my head but not my body, keeping my hand on the back of Kristen’s head. She hears my friend and starts hesitating, but I keep my grip firm and catch her eye, just for a second: Don’t you stop.
She doesn’t. She swallows me even deeper and brings her hand up to my thigh for leverage. I keep my hand on her jaw so I can feel her open and full. I try not to groan.
“Uh, hi,” I manage to say, looking back to my friend. “Can I find you later?”
Wide eyed, she chuckles a little, says, “Sure, man,” and backs off, glancing over her shoulder as she disappears back into the crowd.
“Good girl,” I say, caressing Kristen’s hair and cheeks with my fingers. She’s taking me deep, looking up every so often, her lips closing around me and sucking. She takes me almost to the base, deep, then slides it out of her mouth and lets her tongue lap all the way down the length of it. My hips are moving, grinding against her gently; I want more, want to pull out and fuck her up against the wall, bend her over the pool table on the other side of the room. I can see other butches with sticks hitting balls across felt in precise angles by the lamp swaying. Everyone is going along with her Saturday night, not noticing this dark corner we’ve found.
“I want to fuck you,” I say quietly, fisting her hair for grip. “You get me good and hard, and I will.” She buckles a little, a jolt goes through her body and she ripples, I can feel it. She wants it now, but she’ll have to wait.
She flicks her tongue around the crown, then wide on the underside of the shaft as she takes the head in her mouth again, keeping her mouth stretched wide, and I rub it against her tongue with a little shift in my hips. She lets me slide it all the way in, pressing her shoulder against the wall with my shin and holding the back of her head again, filling her mouth up.
Kristen knows how. She’s damn good at this. Sometimes she goes too deep and it gets hard for her to breathe; she pulls out and gasps, then goes in to swallow me again, deeper, tighter. I feel her throat close around my cock, tongue pulsing, and I thicken in her mouth, my hips start tensing, and that’s it, I have to have her, here, now.
I pull out fast, pull her up with my hand still on her jaw, kiss her hard against the wall as I push her skirt farther up, shove the fabric aside and find her slit. I keep her pinned between my body and the wall.
“Oh, please, I want it so bad,” she whispers next to my ear. I keep a tight grip on her shoulders, my forearm against her clavicle, gripping her thighs, my knee bent and under hers, holding her legs apart. “I want your cock in me,” she gasps.
“Damn right you’ll get my cock. After you made me all hard like you did? With that sweet little mouth of yours? You’re going to get it.”
Tiny moans come from her mouth. She’s waiting, hands clawing at my shoulders, hips writhing. I find her slit with my fingers and tease her lips. She’s so wet I can feel it just on the outside, sticky-sweet, and I can’t stand the wait; it’s making my eyes blur and my head spin. I grip my cock in my fist and circle her lips and opening with the head.
She moans, louder.
“Shh,” I say. “Someone could come over here any second. We’re barely concealed.” I should be faster, this should be just three thrusts and it’s over, we’re in public for goodness’ sake, in a room full of people, barely concealed by shadow.
But I’m waiting, again, now. I want to hear her beg. I want her tongue working again with language like it was just working against my cock.
“Oh, baby, I want it so bad,” she breathes in my ear, pressing with everything she’s got against me. “I need you to fuck me, come on, you fuck me so good.”
I keep circling, teasing the open hole of her cunt with my cock, and bring my thumb up to her mouth to circle and tease her mouth the same way. She gasps, gulps, tries to take it into her mouth, but I won’t let her.
“You know I’ll do it. I’ll fuck you right, right here, against this wall, with all these people watching,” I growl low against her neck as I bite a little too hard, and she gasps, gives in. “You don’t even care that they can see, do you? You need it so bad.”
“Please,” she says, and looks me right in the eyes, that look bordering on desperation, eyes wide, lips parted, a hint of a smile and so much wanting. “Please,” she says again, drawing out the vowels, and I give in.
I murmur, “Yes, yes,” soothing, and slide inside her slow, so slow, but strong and all the way, tip to balls.
The first stroke takes the longest and she’s moaning already, a long low sound that corresponds to my progress, and she breathes in when I get to the base, both of us tight, clenched, pulsing. She wants it hard, she wants it fast, and I know just how she likes it, but I’m taking my time, giving her every delicious inch, just how I like it.
I can feel her everywhere.
I pull almost all the way out, a little faster, and she gasps. I cover her mouth with mine in more of a controlling move than a kiss, to quiet her a little, but I don’t really care if people hear, or see, anymore. My hands are on her hips and I control how fast she moves against me; she’s writhing, trying to ride me faster, but she can’t; I keep her inches away from me, keep her shoved against the wall, hard, and control the depth and speed.