Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 06

He lowered his eyes to her breasts and waited, not giving her the chance to read him.

Her nipples tingled where his gaze lingered and she traced an invisible line down her body where his eyes marked her flesh, ending at her pubic mound. Engorged, she felt the heat flickering through her, tiny flames that scorched her skin and left a trail of devastating need in its path.

Isabelle gave up all pretenses and moved to her knees on the bed, altogether too eager for his lovemaking. She positioned her rear in front of him and arched her back, knowing he could see how swollen her pussy lips were and the dampness seeping out.

A stinging slap reined down on her bottom. Instantly her body clenched in relentless desire, her flesh tightening with urgent demands for more. Her mind screamed for more but she knew Dillon would ignore her needs as surely as he was ignoring his own.

She stayed in position, waiting for another slap on her bottom, waiting for a slap that never came. She glanced back at him to ascertain his next move and found him gazing at her damp pussy lips with a dazed look in his eyes.

Now, Dillon, please.

Moving as if in a trance, Dillon lowered himself to his knees behind her. Strong, warm hands gripped her buttocks, lifting and molding the rounded cheeks.

A strangled moan escaped even while her bottom jutted out to meet his probing hands.

Lips so soft, so warm, so foreign and yet so familiar met her weeping pussy lips with a ferocious hunger, sucking and biting her opening in an attempt to retrieve the grapes nestled inside. She blossomed for him like a flower budding for the first time, slowly and tentatively at first, then once the glory of the sun was felt, spreading her petals wide.

Three.

His clever mouth was going hunting again. Oh fuck, she didn't know how much she could take. A long finger joined in his quest, delving and scooping in and out of her already liquid center. A knuckle brushed her walls and her body formed a tight fist around his finger and the remaining grapes, making it necessary for him to push further into her warm channel to reach his goal.

Deeper he went, casually searching for the lost fruit as if he had all the time in the world to complete his task.

Arching back towards him, she experimentally circled her hips, a belated effort to help him reach his goal.

He pulled away, his finger slipping out of her despite her low moan of protestation. Dazed lust quickly turned into desperation as his mouth resumed its quest, his tongue warm, wet, and probing as it slid into the spot vacated by his finger.

She knew the exact moment he seized upon his goal, a surge of his mouth against her lips, a deep flick of his tongue as he curled around his prize and a vague sense of male satisfaction that pervaded her mind as her body pulsed for him.

Isabelle remained in place, mesmerized by his complete command of her senses. She wanted to feed him grapes with her body all the time. She wanted his mouth locked onto her mound at every opportunity and she desperately wanted to cover his sweet tormenting tongue with her juices and then kiss him while his lips tasted of grapes and pussy. Her pussy.

Isabelle reeled at her thoughts. Desire for Dillon had warped her beyond redemption. As long as Dillon never stopped what he was doing, she figured she could live with it.

Four.

Please....

In time, my love.

She waited, his words running over her like a lovers' hands, wicked, tantalizing, and oh so clever in their knowledge of her needs.

He worked at dislodging another grape, pulling and sucking on her insides until one slipped down her passage walls, his tongue expertly guiding it to his waiting mouth. It was the sounds that proved to be her ultimate undoing, the soft release of her lips as the grape slipped out to plop wetly in his mouth, his wicked mouth closing over it and savoring her flavor mixed with the sticky sweetness of the fruit, the rush of her breath as it left her lungs, his soft growl of contentment. It was all so indescribably erotic her insides clutched repeatedly while her legs shook and her head thrashed from side to side, moans of pleasure rolling off her lips.

Delving back in, he licked her walls, reaching deep for the remaining fruit held tightly in her sticky grasp.

Five.

Dillon, I can't wait...

You will wait.

Biting her lip, Isabelle closed her eyes as sensation after sensation crashed through her system. Every sweep of his tongue set off a maelstrom of shock waves. Every time he languidly chewed the fruit soaked by her desire, her level of tension grew to unbearable proportions. His brutal splaying of her pussy lips should have slowed her arousal, instead she found herself wanting to be spread even wider, to give him anything he wanted and the access he needed. Anything to get him to finish what he started and give her what she needed.

He retrieved number five with the skill she had always associated with him, plucking it from her body and leaving an unbearable ache in its absence.

Her eyes flew open as Dillon took possession of her hips and flipped her over. His hard body shifted to cover hers, his cock angling into the soft notch between her thighs, eliciting a tortured moan from her and a tight scowl from him.

She took in his granite hard mouth, full lips set into a stern frown of concentration, his chiseled cheekbones showing the strain he was under, and his eyes burning with need. For her.

Leaning down, he nibbled at her mouth until she opened for him. He dropped a grape onto her waiting tongue and watched for her reaction.

Knowing he was waiting, she managed to cover her surprise and slowly chewed the grape soaked in her juices.

Her nostrils flared as the grape exploded on her tongue, salty sweet and reeking of their mingled flavors. The force of their passion took her to another place; a place where rules didn't apply and where nothing was sacred, where Dillon would take her on sensual journeys beyond her wildest expectations, if she'd only let him.

He nodded in approval, her thoughts pleasing him, satisfying the possessive male inside demanding her acquiescence.

Dillon lowered his head and claimed her mouth. This was no soft kiss of love. No, this was a kiss of possession, of greed, gluttony, and ownership. A kiss she returned with equal fervor, their mouths fused together as their bodies strained closer.

He pulled away after a few minutes, his breathing labored and eyes storm cloud grey with emotion.

He abruptly sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, pulling her astride him, her back to his front, in one smooth move. He covered her breasts with his hands and raised her nipples up ruthlessly, fingertips flicking over the turgid peaks until they were stiff and upright.

Arching in anguish, Isabelle felt his throbbing cock at her backside and stilled at the exquisite torture, to be so close and not get what she wanted was a lesson in patience she never wanted to learn.

Dillon leaned closer, the molten muscles of his chest against her back, and whispered in her ear.

"This is my sweet pussy, Isabelle. Your pussy knows its rightful owner. Look at how it responds to my cock. So wet, so tight, and all mine. But that's not all I'm going to claim. I'm going to fill you and you're going to take every fucking single inch. And you will love it and beg for more."

She opened her mouth to reply but it was pointless. He wasn't paying attention. His hands were claiming every inch of her body, cupping her breasts before moving down the length of her body and ending at her hips.

He gripped her and pulled her hard against him. His cock lodged in the cleft of her buttocks, shocking her with his angry arousal.

She wiggled her hips, anxious to feel his hot length scraping her skin before he stopped her with a single word.

Six.

Ohhh. Yes. The last grape held snuggly in her walls. Number six. Such an innocent number, such an innocuous label for the most erotic experience of her life.

She idly wondered how he planned to retrieve it. He wasn't exactly in the best position to do so.

"You're so transparent, Isabelle."

Dillon's amusement echoed wickedly in her ear.

He nibbled a path down the smooth column of her neck, sending shivers of delight dancing down her spine. His hands remained occupied with rolling the pebbled tips of her nipples between his unforgiving fingers and owning their taut weight in his palms.

Wrapping a hand in a tight fistful of hair, Dillon pulled her closer, "I love how you think, how your body responds to my touch, how you make me feel. You were made for me, Sweet Pussy."

Isabelle groaned, low and deep in her throat and pushed back, eager to be closer to her him, to feel his chiseled body against hers, to have his length pushing deep.

"Now, I better get that grape."

Her entire body tensed in curious anticipation.

Releasing his hold on her hair, Dillon's hands resumed their possessive trail over her skin, his fingertips like branding irons, marking her as they went, scalding her in spots where he lingered a little too long. Like her belly button, where he traced the smooth outline before exploring the soft hollow. Or the inside of her thigh where he drew ever maddening circles that grew close to her center but never close enough. And the heated cupping of her bottom splayed over his lap for his pleasure.

Isabelle was sure she was going to go mad waiting for Dillon. She wasn't entirely sure she wasn't there already. Her entire world had narrowed to this one moment and she felt as if she would surely perish if the fire burning inside of her wasn't doused soon.

Please, Dillon. Please.

Isabelle begged. There was no other word for it. This was no gentle giving of her body or willing surrender, no, it was a plea borne out of desperation, out of a desire she had no control over, out of a fiercely devilish compulsion to submit to him and by extension, herself.

Smug male satisfaction rolled over her in waves. She prayed it was enough.

Nerves already frayed past the breaking point jumped as Dillon's teeth sank into the soft skin at her nape. His hands probed her entrance, impatiently pushing her lips aside as if they were responsible for his dalliance.

Long, questing fingers slid into her opening, four of them spearing her, invading, and delving into her channel mercilessly.

Isabelle cried out and clamped down hungrily. He violated and took with little thought given to her needs so focused was he on pursuing his quarry.

She endured his endless forays into the recesses of her body, biting her lip at the incessant grazing of her sensitive flesh, her mind anxiously seeking a toe hold into his thoughts.

He provided none, simply continued to stroke and search, purposely missing the grape on more than one occasion.

Isabelle recovered enough to look down. The dampness seeping out of her covered him to his wrists and wet her thighs while he pierced her over and over again with practiced casualty.

His mouth worked a path between her neck and shoulder, kissing, nipping, and when she didn't respond the way he liked, landing a sharp bite. She knew it was a matter of seconds before she lost all semblance of control.

Mmmm, yes, Isabelle.

Dillon....oh, Dillon.

Watch.

Isabelle obeyed, never once questioning his motives. She watched the mesmerizing glide of his hand as they surged upward and into the deepest crevices of her womb, the excruciating downward slide to her opening where he would hover for a beat too long before again riding upward in a violent claiming of her sheath. It was unbearable to see and impossible to look away.

He taunted her senses until she could take no more, until her walls screamed in protest, until her entire body surrendered with soul-stealing, tempestuous submission. To him.

Mouth open in a silent cry of abandonment, Isabelle gripped Dillon's hands as she spilled out for him, her body moving on its own volition, up and down, up and down until she could take no more.

His harsh groan and the tensing of his hands inside her were his only acknowledgment.

She slowed her movements as her fluttering insides calmed, the utter despair of earlier dissipating, allowing her a moment to regain her wits. What was left of them.

Dillon removed his hands, but surprised her when he held a perfectly naked grape up to the light before popping it into his mouth.

"You taste so sweet, Love."

Her insides squeezed.

The insistent flesh of his cock attempting to push between her legs diverted her attention from thoughts of him slurping down a grape soaked in her juices.

Can't let my fingers have all the fun. Open that pussy for me, my Belle. I need to fuck you. It wasn't enough to have my hands in you. It wasn't enough to have you coating my hands in your cum. It will never be enough. Open for me.

Without a second of hesitation, she widened her legs and positioned her slit above his bulging cockhead.

Dillon wasted no time surging upwards with his rigid length until he filled every corner and crevice.

With one hand guiding her hip and one hand tangled in her hair, Dillon drove into her, his thrusts measured while his ragged breathing was anything but.

Isabelle gave into the crowd of sensations buffering her from every direction; the excruciating push of his cock stuffing her pussy full, the ruthless grip on her hip guiding her, the tightening hold on her hair driving her to the brink of madness. They refused to be ignored, each one battling for her attention until her focus narrowed to one thing and one thing only, Dillon's pleasure. It was suddenly as necessary to her as the very air she breathed.

Not content to let Dillon run the show, Isabelle took control of the tempo, rising and falling as she saw fit, circling her hips around and around on his cock until they both moaned in surrender.

It wasn't enough to merely ride him; she wanted to possess him as he possessed her. It may have been sick, it may have been delusional to want him to surrender to her that way, but she didn't care. He demanded her submission, now she was demanding his.

She flexed forward, experimenting with the way he moved with her, waiting to see if he would attempt to pull her back. He didn't and she stretched out her forward momentum until his tip threatened to slip out. Then she slid down in excruciatingly slow increments, loving every delicious inch she took.

Dillon moaned, low and deep from behind her and she smiled. Good. It was about time he got some of his own back.

His grip tightened on her hair and he used the leverage to grind his cock against her walls.

It seemed he had heard her.

Isabelle rose up and slid back down, setting a languorous tempo to their lovemaking. Although she wasn't sure it could even be called lovemaking, more like an animalistic marking of one's mate. The need was so intense, so beyond her reasoning, it completely erased all logic and replaced it with a bone deep craving she wasn't sure could ever be satisfied.

Over and over she rose over him, his cock pulsing inside her with every downward glide until she landed with a muffled thud, her center meeting his ever thickening head.

It was heaven and hell all at once.

Izzy, you're killing me.

Payback is a bitch, Dillon.

Vixen.

Isabelle felt the warmth emanating deep in her heart at his words. Yes, she was a vixen, his vixen and she always would be.

She needed to see him, to see his eyes watching her when he submitted to her, when he drilled deep and heated her womb with his seed.

Rising up and reluctant to let him go for even a second, she quickly turned around, settling her opening over him, her heat enveloping his slick rod.

He watched her with hooded eyes full of smug contentment.

She couldn't blame him, not really. One look, one touch and she became a mindless drone to his needs and her own.

Smiling, she drew her fingertips over his navel, laughing when he sucked in a breath at her touch. Good to know she had the same effect on him he had on her.

His cock twitched.

She squeezed in reply.

His lips quirked at the corners, but it was one of those scary, I'm-going-to-get-you smiles, the kind that promised sweet torturous retribution.

I can take it.

Yes, you will.

She flicked a fingernail over a nipple, watching in fascination as it puckered up.

Hmm, Dillon needed a taste of his own medicine.

Leaning down, she caught his nipple between her lips and teased the tip with her tongue. She loved how his chest rose and his cock bulged inside her when she did that. It was like a chain reaction of the best kind.

I'm warning you...

Shh, I'm busy.

Isabelle.

She ignored him, focusing her efforts on loving his nipples, nibbling, tasting, owning.

He thrust upwards, his hands gripping the flesh at her hips as he pumped deep and then deeper still.

She almost lost it. He was so deep, so impossibly thick and damn, he felt so good, like he belonged there.

Forcing her attention back to the task on hand, she reared up and seated herself more fully onto his shaft.

Air hissed between his teeth. Hers, too. The sensation was so exquisite, so filling.

She peeled his hands off her hips and laced her fingers through his.

Rising slightly, she placed their interlinked hands on either side of his head.

Smiling, she placed a soft kiss on his collarbone before sliding up, riding his cock upwards until her mouth met his fully.

His eyes said more than the myriad thoughts running through both of their heads. They blazed with emotion. She had always known he wanted her, but this was different, this was him naked and vulnerable to her like never before. They were still linked, but only brief jumbled thoughts broke through. She could no longer tell who they belonged to anymore.

She nuzzled his lips and the fire burned brighter, hotter. He thickened and this time it was she who jumped.

He smiled into her mouth and she rose up, gliding up his body, then down, her nipples grazing his chest, over and over she rode, their mouths fusing and holding with every rise.

She welcomed him into her body and into her heart. And she knew she was offering both forever.

Yes, Love, always.

Dillon surged up, pushing their hands behind her back and forcing her to sit up. He took over, increasing the pace, driving into her with teeth jarring intensity.

With nothing to balance herself on or anything to hold on to, she was forced to take him deeper than she'd had before. Her insides clenched and tightened. God, she was teetering on the edge and he was determined to push her over.

Give it to me, Sweet Pussy.

Dillon...? She reached out.

Now, love.

He pushed up again and again, filling her to the brim before retreating, his mouth worshipping her neck, her breasts, and her face along the way.

It was too much. Little shock waves reverberated from her core and grew until they traveled to every nerve ending. She exploded with a cry, her body rising and falling of its own accord, as the molten heat poured out of her and covered his cock in a thick coat of her desire for him.

Dillon shouted and buried his cock deeper, until she felt the liquid fire pouring from him and into her weeping sheath.

She trembled as the aftershocks echoed through both of them, too weak to move, even if she had wanted to.

He released her hands and she was stunned to realize they were asleep. How hard had he been holding her and why hadn't she noticed? Oh, right.

Stretching out over him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, making sure to keep his cock firmly lodged inside her. She wasn't ready to give him up just yet.