Saor Alba

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SWinters
SWinters
30 Followers

His mouth left her as he looked in her face just in time to see it: heat, confusion, desire, fury at her own helplessness, wanting to want to fight him, wanting to kill him, wanting to fuck him blind this instant and never ever stop.

He raised his thigh up harder beneath her, pushing his foot higher up the wall behind him, lifting her more, and as her toes lost contact with the floor her fingers dug convulsively into his shoulders; her eyes widened, pupils dilated, he nearly came in his jeans right there; he'd never wanted to fuck a woman so hard and so deep in his life. His hands were down the back of her pants, her ass filling his hands; he pulled her up harder against him and she wrapped her legs around his hips as he stepped off from the wall and he was thanking God the flat was so small because otherwise they'd have never made it to the bed, and he needed her on the bed, needed something soft and forgiving beneath her because he couldn't be gentle, not now, not after that look and those sounds she was making.

Letting go of her for a moment, he pulled back the covers and she was shucking off her jeans and panties, toeing off her socks; he raced to get rid of his own trousers and boxers, grabbing her around the waist before she could move away and pulling her shirt up and off, taking the open bra with it, feeling her shudder and writhe as his mouth closed over her breast, her body against the length of his, her fingers in his hair. She shuddered again as his tongue moved on her, tried to push him away, to slow him down but that wasn't happening now, the time for slowness and patience was long past. He buried himself in that softness, lost himself in her passionate response, relentlessly drawing torturous pleasure from that small, screaming bundle of fiery nerve.

He felt her moan, low and long. He raised his head, looked in her face, dove to her mouth, tasting, claiming. Another moan filled his mouth and he drew her body more tightly against his.

"You're shaking again," he breathed in her ear.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are," pressing his hand into the small of her back again so she arched against him.

"If you try to get up and make me drink tea again right now, I will beat your brains out."

"Will you now?" growling, rolling her onto her back and pinning her beneath him.

"Yes," gasping, "I'll be back in the States before they find your body," her legs spreading wide, hips angling up for him, her body open and demanding, she was driving him insane. Fuck, he loved her resilience, her cleverness; it made him crave to strip all of it away from her, peel back every exquisite layer covering the vulnerability he knew lay beneath. He stopped just at her entrance and was rewarded with her impatient whine, face contorting in a frustrated scowl.

"Morgan..." when she felt him shift, sliding a hand down over her belly to find her.

"Hm?" his lips moving back to her neck, to that place that made her shiver and surge as his fingers stroked into the wetness, circled around her clit, never quite touching it, running over all the sensitive sweetness, impossible heat rushing to his hand.

"Morgan," gasping again, she couldn't breathe, those fingers, ceaseless, reaching in, into her, she was writhing and panting now and if he made her beg she really would kill him... but... oh "... please" it came out like a breath, like a thought, "want you... in me, now, Morgan"

"Yes," he said, "yes..." reaching deeper, his thumb so gently coming straight up to her tight swollen bud, "yes, sweet Pen, you'll have me, I want you to come for me first, come for me, like this," pressing, so sweet the pleasure taking her breath and her words, her body giving over, she couldn't stop it, could not hold on to any part of herself "come in my hand, come, come to me, that's it, come to my hand, yes, come when I call you, Pen," shrieking soundlessly she was shining liquid pleasure pouring out and then he was there, there, the heavy heat of him filling where she had emptied everything out for him.

It wasn't that he was so massive in girth or length but gods, he felt huge entering her; the tension thrumming through her body, even after orgasm, was such that she feared she wouldn't be able to take him but he slid through her as though she were made of water, high, high up inside and tight and hard and moving like... like... she didn't know what it was like she couldn't think or see it was... it was...

Everything.

Everything she was, right there in that place. He was deep, deep inside, fucking, invading, opening that place where she was so endlessly soft, that place she kept so carefully guarded and covered over, not because she didn't like it or was ashamed of it but because it was precious and sweet and defenseless and she valued that part of herself too much to ever be casual or careless with it.

He was taking it. Taking her. Taking her.

She let him take her. She gave herself to him as he took her, and something opened, something inside her unlocked and unfurled, catching the wind, expanding into light.

She was free.

He felt it, felt the softness suddenly give way, all the way, felt her give up all around him, drawing him down into unbelievable heat in the center of something untouched and he roared into her, feeling his balls winding up tight, tight, lightning unleashed flashing driving harder deeper blasting up and out and in, in, in, coming, pouring into her.

Locked around him, arching up off the bed, an unbroken wordless howl like no sound he'd ever heard, he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her, coming down to rest on his side and pulling her with him, still buried in her, his other arm behind her shoulders now, cradling her to him, feeling her shudder with aftershock, still spasming around his cock. Felt her mouth open against his chest as she caught a sobbing breath.

"Oh," she said, and "oh."

"Yes," he said, hearing his heart still hammering. "Quite." She laughed the next sob, her body trembling, and he stroked his hand over her back in a long slow track, hip to shoulder and around and down, over and over, moving more slowly with each pass, her breathing beginning to calm, deepen, grow quieter, only the occasional hiccup now.

He thought he should get them some water, or maybe some of the cold tea, but her hands on his hips clutched at him. "Don't-" she started, then stopped herself. "It's all right," he told her, "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere," and she buried her face against him.

"Sorry," she mumbled, then cleared her throat. "You can get up, it's ok, I'm sorry--"

"Pen," gripping her upper arm, giving her a quick shake, "don't. Do not. If you start apologizing right now, I will beat your brains out."

A startled laugh, muffled against his chest. "Will you now?" her voice a little shaky, but starting to sound more like herself. "Yes," he said, "it would be a terrible shame. There are so many things I'd rather do with you than hide your body."

She laughed again, finally raising her head, though not quite meeting his eyes. The light from the kitchen fell across her hair, her face in shadow.

"I'm going to pull the blanket up, ok?" and she nodded. He reached down and pulled the covers up over them.

"Morgan?"

"Hm?"

"Do you... have to get up in the morning? Go to work? Or anything?"

"I have some things to attend to tomorrow, yes. Not early, though."

"Should I let you get some sleep? I mean... should I go? It's not a problem, I'm all checked in, I can go--"

"You can try," he answered, taking a handful of her hair. "Best of luck."

"I just mean... you know..."

"I don't care what you just mean. Really. Try and leave. It'll be fun."

That got her looking at him, at last. She held his gaze for a long moment. Then she gave a great, bone-deep sigh, and settled into him. "Maybe later," she said.

Sinking down into sleep, two random, unrelated thoughts scudded over the surface of her mind: that singular, shining moment of utter freedom that had caught her up as she gave herself over; and that phrase he'd spoken hours earlier, the one he'd declined to translate for her.

She hoped she'd remember to ask him about it in the morning.

SWinters
SWinters
30 Followers
12
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10 Comments
SimonBrookeSimonBrookeover 2 years ago

Jings, I'd forgotten how utterly awsome this story is! I cannot think of a better expression of simply outrageously hot sex. Congratulations once again (and you, like me, should write more).

KingCuddleKingCuddleover 3 years ago
A Whole Lotta Serious Literacy going on here!

I feel privileged to be present in it.

SWintersSWintersover 13 years agoAuthor
mea culpa

You're absolutely correct, Anonymous. That should read "exegesis." Good catch! and thanks. :)

--SW

AnonymousAnonymousover 13 years ago
Hang on --

The 'exigesis' should have included some advice on spelling.

AzanianHeatAzanianHeatover 13 years ago
Brilliant

This is the first submission of yours that I've come across - and I loved it. Can't wait to check out the rest of your work!

Five stars,

AH

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