When you came in the air went out and every shadow filled up with doubt

She went limp, finally moving her thighs from their vice grip around my head. I looked up at her, taking in the irregular rise and fall of her breasts with each ragged breath, the way the dim ribbons of light gave her ghostly white skin an almost iridescent sheen, the way her back was still arched and head thrown back; there are very few sights as beautiful as a woman who has just orgasmed and even fewer vantage points better suited to experiencing such a wonderful view as from between her legs. I was far from done with her. All the teasing, the flirting, the little affectionate gestures, hell, the two blowjobs (at least one of which wasn’t work related)… I’ve previously waxed poetic about our canine brethren, and this may be out of place here, but a wise man once said that the only difference between dogs and wolves is two meals. I was done being the dog. Tonight I was the wolf. And the wolf was hungry.

I was changing for gym class in high school before I learned that not all guys walk around sitting at least half mast all the time. Maybe it’s the fae genetics, or maybe I’m just a freak, but when I’m getting action on the regular, I’m literally always a second away from the soldier being at full on attention. Along with this comes the added oddity (which I didn’t learn about until much later)… I don’t cum if I don’t want to (outside of extenuating circumstances). So as I began the slow languid crawl up Anwyn’s body, you could have used my dick to drive nails into a two by four.

My face came in line with hers, seeing those shocking grey eyes gazing up at me. I smiled down at her and held her gaze for a long minute before she broke the silence.

“Hey there sailor.”

“You taste good, Babygirl.”

She reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck, drawing me down into a warm but passionate kiss that lasted fucked if I know how long, before pulling back and grinning. “Hell yeah, I do.”

I chuckled, and I doing so my cock brushed against her lower lips, sending a shudder through her whole body. “Do you want more?”

She bit her lip and nodded enthusiastically enough that it could be made out in the low light. “Take me. Fuck me like you own me.”

I pushed into her, finding her to be wet as a waterpark, hot as an asteroid on atmospheric entry, and tight as a glam rocker’s leather pants. She let out a soft hiss at the penetration, and I admit to sighing out of sheer relief at being inside her. I could feel her pussy stretching to accommodate me, molding its silken walls around my girth. Fully sheathed within her, I leant in again and pressed my lips to hers before starting to thrust with my hips. Lust, tinged with maybe a little bit of fear, shown from her eyes as I gazed down into them, my forehead pressed to hers. Positioned as we were, and not willing or able to turn my eyes from hers, the length of my strokes into her were limited to a shallow pistoning in and out with most of me staying locked up tight in the velvet embrace of her warm wet depths. I found my rhythm for this, and those slow thrusts found their power.

Her second orgasm of the night crested just like that, our eyes locked together, each staring into the other’s soul. One of the few sights more thrilling than a woman recovering from an orgasm is one right in the throes of one. I stayed with her through it, continuing to thrust through her rippling contractions as she rode out the electrical storm in her synapses.

I pulled out of her just as those fires were falling into a burning hot ember, and rolled her over onto her belly, entering once more that holy temple that was her magnificent bare cunt.

She had been all but silent throughout the missionary sex, but now she writhed and moaned as I plumbed the depths of her. Finally she managed to gasp out “doggy”, so I pulled her back up to her hands and knees. And then I really started to send it. The sensation and sound of my hips smacking against her ass filled me as I filled her, driving me to continue to propel myself forward like a steam engine barreling through a mountainside tunnel.

Orgasm number three hit her like that steam engine, leaving her a floppy mess that could barely keep herself upright. Not to be deterred, I dropped to my side, pulling her into a side fuck that basically ragdolled her. Remembering what had put her over the edge that first time, and how turned on she’d been by being choked out by my cock, I wrapped a hand around her delicate lily white throat and started squeezing with a moderate amount of **** as I reamed her. I felt her ripple around me as her fourth orgasm approached and squeezed that much harder, hissing into her ear as I did. “Cum for Daddy, baby.”

That was enough to send her over the edge again, and I stopped fighting my own release, pumping out a gigantic load into her sloppy, sodden cunt.

We laid there for a few minutes like that, me softening slightly inside her, my hand around her neck, waiting for our breathing and heart rates to regulate a bit. Eventually she rolled over, causing me to slip out with an audible squelching sound. She grabbed me by the cheeks and kissed me again. This one was soft, sensual. The hunger there was sated. “Daddy, we are doing that again. Soon.”

Lady Hargreaves, as she had once styled herself, stood in the airport terminal, in line as her plane boarded. She could have flown first class, but one thing she’d learned a long time ago was to always keep some things secret, in this case her wealth. She wondered what her errant employees were up to, and hoped the new guy was stepping up.

(Title: “Bad Things” by Jace Everett)