Hard Beat

So I don’t.

Instead, I bury myself all the way to the hilt, all trains of thought overwhelmed by the physical sensations, and all sense of self lost because there is no me and no her; no, there’s just us. A feral groan fills the room; even though it’s my voice, I don’t even realize I’ve emitted it when I start that slow, slick slide out so that just the tip of my dick is allowed the pleasure of her. Talk about torturing myself, but the little sound she makes begging for me not to stop is worth it. So I give her what she wants. I use my hand to hold my dick still, rub the ridge of my crest up with an added pressure over that sweet spot I can feel just inside her. I tease and taunt her like she’s been doing to me since we started this way back on night one, but this… This is just so much more.

Once she starts lifting her hips and squeezing tightly around me, I have to hope my willpower will hold long enough so that I can give her what she needs. Because I know once I bury myself in her, I won’t be able to stop the freight train of desire bearing down on me.

When I look into her eyes again, there is no mistaking it as she nears her orgasm. I watch her come undone – bit by bit, moan after moan, muscle by muscle. And I know she hasn’t finished coming yet, but fucking hell, I feel like a vise is wrapped around my balls, that deep, sweet ache so damn intense, my fingers begin to dig into the toned flesh of her thighs to try and ward off the carnal need to plunder.

But it’s futile.

Because the first time I look down and watch her pussy lips stretch around the thickness of my shaft as I slide out, the most delicate of flesh bringing me the most intense of pleasure, my control snaps. I press harder on her thighs to give me an unhindered view and the access to take as I please as I rear back and thrust into her until I bottom out. Then I groan out in ecstasy, balls buried so damn deep that I can feel her warm wetness coating me and turning me on something fierce. I grind against her, my dick as deep as it can possibly be, and it feels so good, I let my head loll back as I begin to really move.

The room fills with the sound of sex and pleasure, pleas and moans, passion unleashed and needs unfurled. And my God… talk about drugging a man into a coma. Everything about her forces me to concentrate so fucking hard on the moment that I’m losing so much more than a physical release to her.

Her muscles begin to pulse around me as the sounds of skin against skin heightens everything about the moment. I’m fixated on getting us both there, hips thrusting, fingers gripping her, and neck taut with my impending release.

And then the bed frame starts squeaking with each and every drive in to the point that even though I’m so pent up, so addled with need for release, it’s so damn loud that when I look down and meet Beaux’s eyes, I can see her laughing.

“We’re breaking the bed,” she pants out with a soft laugh that ends on a sharp mewl as I grind my hips into her again, sparks gathering at the base of my spine and readying for the onslaught of sensation just beyond the horizon.

But the bed’s not the only thing that seems to be breaking; I think a tiny little piece of my heart just did too. There’s no way in hell I’m telling her that, though. I hide behind the thought by flashing a devil-may-care smirk that lasts long enough to catch her eyes lighting up before I return to concentrating on getting us back in the moment, squeaky spring and all.

It doesn’t take long to propel us onto that edge where lust and desire reign, want and need merge as one. With our bodies still connected in the most primal of ways, I lean down and slant my mouth over hers, the action driving me farther into her addictive pussy when I thought I couldn’t go any deeper. And with my mouth on hers, her every breath mingling with my own exhalations, both my tongue and cock savoring and demanding all at the same time, I coax her over the precipice, swallow her moans as she falls, and enjoy the rhythm of her muscles as she contracts around me.

And then she does this little thing, this lift of her hips in a motion chock-full of greed that tells me she wants more to prolong her release as long as she can, and the action, the motion, of her gripping me in intervals pulls me into the vortex of ecstasy.

I crash over the edge, muscles tensing, dick pulsing, thoughts annihilated by the white-hot heat streaking through me and exploding in bursts of warmth. I can’t weather the pleasure with my mouth to hers, can’t handle the rush of fiery heat followed by drowsy bliss that courses on a pumped-up kick in my veins, so I rear up on my knees, eyes closed tight, and her name a broken cry in the air as I empty myself.

Our labored breathing is all I can hear when I look down at her, a half smirk on my lips at the satisfaction on her face – flushed cheeks, lips swollen from mine, eyes hazy – before pulling ever so slowly out of her, immediately wanting to do it all over again.

Well, after I recover some, because damn… all guys might need a recovery time but this, her, what just happened, have drained me in every sense of the word. And it’s a new feeling, to be drained emotionally, physically, sexually, and not want to lie back and close my eyes and succumb to the exhaustion like usual. I don’t want to at all. I want to lie down next to her, prop my head in my hand, and admire her, talk to her, and just breathe her in.

Shit. I think the paradox this time around is that, rather than my slipping down the slippery slope from lust to love, Beaux and I just experienced something unique to us. We bonded during the adrenaline-fueled action of the raid, the worrisome fear over each other’s safety, and then the agonizing wait to see each other face-to-face. Hell yeah, we bonded, so I’m allowed to be a little in awe of her right now.