Chapter 53: Chapter 53
In my hazy sleep-drunk state, I wonder if I should open my eyes or pretend I’m still asleep.
Maggie shifts against me, wiggling one of her legs between mine. My muscles ache and protest, bringing memories of the night before. The biting. The licking. The coming. The love.
As I wake up a little more, I keep my eyes closed and fight the smile that wants to spread across my face. Her body is in front of me, lush curves of her breasts against mine, and the smooth skin of her hips kisses my own. Soft, even breaths escape her mouth and warm my cheek. Blankets surround us, keeping our bodies cocooned in our private haven inside of her bedroom, her house.
“I want to play a game,” she whispers at my ear, clearly able to see right though my feigned state of sleep.
“I’m going to put my hand between your legs and we’ll see how long I can spank you with my other hand until you’re wet.”
I recognize the statement as similar to something I read once and smile.
She slides her slim arms underneath mine, pressing our bodies tightly together. The tips of her fingers play in the hair at the nape of my neck as she kisses me intently, with certainty and passion and confidence. The kind of confidence I wish I could wear. She scrapes her teeth lightly against my neck as her fingers wrap around my hair, tugging once before she pulls away slightly. The air that gets sucked into the blankets when she moves to sit up combines with her words swirling in my brain and makes me shiver. I open my eyes.
“Please.”
I’m begging with my eyes, with everything I have, praying and hoping she isn’t teasing me, as she’s prone to doing. She answers with a smile, relieving my fears.
We’re both naked, having exhausted ourselves together the night before. We demand so much of each other and drain ourselves of everything. There’s never an ounce of pleasure or effort left in either of us, having given and taken so fiercely.
With her help—touching and guiding and teasing me on the way—I’m quickly bent over her lap. She moves her fingertips to play over the flesh of my pussy before she begins, stroking and pinching my lips, and I think this game won’t last very long; surely she can tell I’m already
wet from her words, her body, everything about her. I worry that I’m going to be too wet too fast, bringing an end to our game before it really begins.
Still, she proceeds, and her fingers rest against my pussy. She moves her fingertips in tight circles against my clit. I want to protest at how unfair it is, how she’s not even following her own rules, but when the sting begins as her first spank lands, I’m flying, lost in the air above us.
She shifts and moves her other hand beneath me. At first, I think it’s so she can support me and hold me in place, but it becomes clear that it’s so that her fingers can glide in and out of me. She fucks me as deep as she can from the angle she’s at, making me squirm and moan. Unfair, my brain chants again, against my body’s sheer hope that she’ll continue even though she’s already made me wet. Swollen and achy. Full of need for her.
“Already?” she says with a half chuckle.
My heart sinks, thinking our game is surely over. I slide into feelings of shame at my own inability to better control the way I respond to her. My body automati- cally begins to pull away, an instinctual need to curl into myself taking over, but her hands steady me. Ground me. Hold me in place, in every sense.
I’m surprised by the even sharper sting of her wet fingers against the swell of my ass, and the sensation makes me gasp. Her continued attention is only part of the shock; the swirling mix of pleasure and pain make up the rest. My eyes close so I can focus on the sensations.
She takes turns landing her palms and fingers against my ass in sharp spanks. Sometimes she smacks directly on the round swell, which makes me squirm, thankful for her attention. Sometimes, it’s a sting in the areas with less padding, making it hurt more, but still I am thankful. I love them both, love the distinct way it feels if she’s using the tips of her fingers to make it sting, or if she’s used her entire hand to impact against my body, making the burn deep and hot.
I lose count of the number of spanks she’s given, grateful she hasn’t required me to keep track so I can focus only on the pleasure and heat building. The fingers she has inside of me wiggle and play, provoking more wetness and sounds, from the source and from my mouth.
She continues this torture, which really isn’t, until I’m writhing. We’re moving in time with each other, her hands synchronized and rhythmically bringing me higher. She’s spanking and fucking and flicking and pinching, and dear god, did she somehow grow more hands? I can’t keep track of her movements as she pushes and pushes, and I’m suddenly on the brink of my orgasm. I try hard to shift my focus and hold it at bay, needing more of her.
My head is heavy, neck resting against her legs, and I’m kind of nuzzling her as she loves and gives to me. Without thinking, I bite her calf—not hard, just a nip. Just a thank-you. Just a please, don’t fucking stop.
She doesn’t stop, but she does laugh very lightly,
and it’s a much-needed reassurance. She knows me well enough to know these nonverbal cues. Her palm lands even harder and I bite back another loud moan. Now she’s in the moment, and I know if I look up into her face, I’ll find concentration mixed with passion. This is when Maggie is her most gorgeous, although she’s always beautiful. It’s a shame I can’t see her, can’t watch her deepest in her element.
She strikes harder against my skin. I imagine the pink blossom, imagine the way my skin swells infini- tesimally in its attempt to reach out for her. Small noises of exertion come from her, mixed with soft moans and needy breaths. Her knees part farther, her body seeking contact with mine, and I gladly shift to provide it. Her pussy is wet against my outer thigh. The very first lift of her hips and she exhales in a gorgeous, erotic sigh, and I’m conflicted about focusing on pleasuring her or the pleasure she’s bringing me.
She moves her hand, fingertips again reaching to my clit, and lands several quick, stinging slaps directly on top of it. They make the throb swell, and everything intensifies. I’m moments away from coming, whether from the hand she’s spanking me with or the one that’s fucking me, it doesn’t matter.
The spanking stops, both of her hands preoccupied with bringing me only pleasure now, and my whole body starts to tighten. Now, now, now, my brain repeats, and I let go.
As if I had a choice.
I come hard, harder than I can remember ever coming in my life. Loud, foreign noises leave my mouth, and I am powerless. Boneless. Bodiless. I can hear her, too, her wetness slipping and sliding, and her muscles tighten beneath me as she gasps, coming against me.
Once I can think again, I realize I’m panting, my body desperate for the air it was deprived of when I began to crest into my orgasm. For a brief moment, I’m embar- rassed at the way I lost all control over myself. Usually, even when I come, it’s controlled and quiet. This time, it was wild abandon and reckless passion. Loud, both of us, our voices, our bodies together. There was nothing at all controlled about it, and I smile wide.
I think about how my whole body will be sore later, especially my ass, but it will be a good sore. The kind of sore that will make me smile even wider. I know Maggie will take every opportunity to remind me, remind us both, of our morning. She’ll press me against the counter in the kitchen, her hands wrapping around my waist and sliding down to pull against hot, pink skin. When we’re out in public and we sit at a table for dinner, she’ll smirk at me, knowing.
When my breathing has slowed to match hers, I curl up on her lap a bit, needing her reassurance. She pulls me to her, and we’re stretching and sliding against each other as we spread out our limbs. We move to the pillows, tangled and wrapped in each other and it’s perfect. Just like she is. Just like we are.