Between Want and Need Ch. 02

Cheyanne's breath left her in a soft sigh. Her eyelids lowered slightly and an answering smile hovered over the corners of her own mouth. As though at a signal, Jerome bent and gave her a slow, meltingly sweet kiss.

She opened her mouth for his lazy lancing tongue. The sinuous contact with her own tongue made her writhe in pleasure and spread her legs under him. Wrapping her thighs around his waist, she arched her back in naked invitation.

"Now," Cheyanne said, her voice a plaintive whisper.

"Hold up," Jerome whispered back. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut as the anticipation mounted to unbearable levels. Beyond her labored breathing, she could hear the tear of foil.

"Hurry," she panted, arching upward again. He caught her by her hips and positioned her to receive him.

Cheyanne's eyes snapped open when the throbbing tip of his cock touched her sodden folds. He really was a big guy, a fact that seemed all the more obvious now more than ever.

Her slightly worried gaze met the implacable hazel of his own, and she swallowed the plea for patience that she'd been about to blurt out. He was obviously in no mood to wait.

All the same, Jerome seemed to notice her concern, because he entered her slowly, so slowly but at the same time so very fully, she couldn't restrain an ecstatic cry.

"Alright, sweet pea?"

Her face against his throat, Cheyanne heard the gruff note of concern in his query and nodded quickly. "Don't stop!"

Jerome murmured something she didn't catch; the delight that exploded with his careful thrusts made his words irrelevant. She needed more. Even as she appreciated his cautious regard for her body, she ached for faster, harder friction.

His restraint was a goad, inciting her to madness as eventually she grew comfortable with the sheer size of his cock. She wanted him more than ever, wanted him to drive into her with deep, merciless strokes. He had other ideas though, and when she had pleaded herself hoarse he just chuckled and silenced her with a passionate kiss.

For all her impatient demands, Jerome was very, very effective at making her come. With his undemanding, steady pace, he managed to make her squirt for him again and again. Lights flashed, fireworks exploded behind her closed eyes with every soul-shaking climax. He took her again and again, and in so many positions, her entire body grew slightly sore from their seemingly endless exertions.

Jerome watched her with the same enigmatic smile while she stared up at him in panting astonishment. She was still recovering from her last orgasm when she grew conscious of the hard length jutting against her inner thigh with the heat of a brand.

Gasping, Cheyanne struggled up on her elbow and looked down. Sure enough, it was his erection, still hard and expectant, as if they hadn't been fucking like two wild animals this whole time.

Not quite, she amended ruefully. The only wild animal tonight had been her; Jerome had been the soul of self-control, a fact that was made indubitable by the sight of his cock, still hard and ready to pick up where they'd left off.

Cheyanne considered the composed patience of his face and her teeth chewed her bottom lip. She didn't know how much more she could give.

"What?" Jerome whispered. His hand pushed a damp lock of brown hair off her cheek. "Tired already?"

"No!" The denial was instant. "I just...I'm just-"

"Exhausted," he finished for her, his smile shaded with resignation.

"Catching my breath," Cheyanne corrected forcefully. There was no way she could pass out now, and leave her lover, so incredible, so generous, with an ungratified hard-on. She reached between them and collected his dick with both hands. Latex snapped noisily as she took off the condom.

She was aware of the faint tremor that passed through his body when her unsteady fingers began to stroke him. But it wasn't enough for her. Looking into his eyes, she said, "I want you to come for me again, Jerome."

Satisfaction flickered over his features and he released a deep breath. "Sure thing, Chey," he whispered. "I just need a little favor in return."

"What?"

Jerome looked her straight in the eye. "Give that ass up to me. That's all I ask," he answered, the softness of his voice charged with finality.

Cheyanne froze in anxious uncertainty. For a second, she was tempted to turn him down. Anal sex was not what she had had in mind. She had meant to suck his dick, swallow his come, presuming that that would be enough for him. It seemed she had thought wrong. He wanted a lot more; was she ready to give it?

She'd never had anal sex before. But so what? Hadn't she wanted to please him, reward him for such a magnificent performance? Why then, should she deny him what he had specifically asked for in return?

Cheyanne drew a deep breath then gave him a smile that was sincere but nevertheless quivered slightly at the corners. He smiled back and eased himself up to a kneeling position. He didn't make any move to place her how he wanted her. Clearing her throat, she came up to her knees, giving him her back then lay her head down on the pillow.

Her heart pounded in her breast as she felt him move behind her. She heard the rustle of his clothes and surmised he was removing something from his pockets. Was it a butt plug, she wondered wildly. She now suspected that this was no spontaneous turn of events, that he had come prepared for anal sex, had deliberately put her in a difficult position to deny him when he asked for it.

Cheyanne started when she felt him dribble a generous amount of liquid along her crack. Lube, she thought, and forced herself to relax. Of course he wasn't going to just shove himself into her tightest hole without lubricant. She could trust him, she told herself as she swallowed hard. She could trust Jerome.

She lifted her head and looked behind her and saw his ebony cock, coated with lube and latex, aimed at her virgin ass. She whipped her face forward again and put her head down on the pillow. Another peek like that and she would lose her nerve.

His cock touched her ass with gentle firmness. Cheyanne stiffened at once. A slippery finger made contact with her clit and massaged. Her breath caught and she pushed her hips out into the sensation.

"Oh," she moaned. "Don't stop."

"Just hold still."

The stimulation to her clit didn't let up, even as the pressure on her ass slowly increased. He was entering her now, the thick length of him pushing into her reluctant tightness, one fiery millimeter at a time. Her teeth clenched, her lips curled into a snarl as she made a low sobbing sound in her throat. He paid no heed.

Jerome made progress with a delicate balance between persistence and patience, stopping only once when she cried out for him to. Feeling abashed and selfish, she immediately asked him to go on and after a moment or two, he began again. When he had buried half of his throbbing shaft inside her ass, she had to bite her lip to keep from pleading that he pull out. Tears squeezed out of her tightly shut eyes and she buried her face in her pillow, not daring to breathe.

Mercifully, Jerome stopped at that point and started teasing her clit again. The simultaneous agony and ecstasy left her incoherent in her surrender. She just couldn't take it.

"Fuck me, for God's sake," Cheyanne sobbed. "End it, just fuck me already."

He held himself completely still as he continued to stroke and rub and flick her distended clit. The burning discomfort fast diminished as her enjoyment grew again. Experimentally, she shifted her hips back on his dick. She gasped at the shocking raw pleasure that coursed through her tender canal.

Cheyanne bucked again, and groaned. She was ready to be fucked now. Jerome instantly picked up on it and began to move carefully in and out of her asshole. She couldn't believe it felt so good.

He could.

"Yeah," Jerome growled behind her. "I knew you'd love this dick up your ass."

At another time, she might have asked in some concern what he meant. She couldn't talk and she knew what he meant anyway. He was saying she was a nasty slut, taking it up the ass with so much moaning and obvious enjoyment. That is what he meant. She knew it and wasn't sorry for herself or mad; she didn't need him to take it back, or say something sweeter.

In fact, it excited her no end having his dick in her ass. Maybe she shouldn't like it so much, maybe it did make her a trashy little whore to let him fuck her in the ass. There was something so inherently rude about having her ass stretched wide open like this. And having it stretched for a man to fuck, too. Perhaps it was depraved.

She didn't mind. She truly did not care if he didn't respect her It was the best sex she'd ever had.

"That's it," Jerome went on when she cupped her breasts with a lewd moan. "Play with them titties! Don't fight it!"

Cheyanne ran her thumbs over her erect nipples over and over while he plowed her behind. He had grasped her hips in his hands and settled into a jolting rhythm which stretched her ass deeper open with each stroke. He wasn't rubbing her clit anymore. He didn't need to.

Her voice was climbing to a strident pitch as she called his name over and over. She could hear his harsh breathing, felt his fingertips digging into the damp skin of her hips. Finally, he was losing control, too.

"Don't you dare come," she snarled at him over her shoulder.

He gave her a dark glare. "Witch," he growled.

Jerome fucked her with even greater fury now, his full length gliding in and out of her rectum with ease. Cheyanne wailed as he burrowed deeper and deeper, opening her ass wide open. It felt so fucking good.

Her orgasm appeared without warning. She gave a hoarse shriek and threw her head back as the intense exquisite climax gripped her body. Her nails curled into her pillow like talons, gripping the fragile silk of the pillowcase until it tore.

Jerome let out a savage growl behind her. Cheyanne felt his fist close in her hair then her head was yanked back. His hoarse whisper filled her ear. "Goddammit, I can't get enough!"

Boy, did she know what he meant!

Once it was over, when they had regained their breath, she surprised herself by falling asleep in his arms. It was only when she woke up to bright sunlight late into the next morning that she realized Jerome had spoken for her; it was she who wished she could have him here now, wished they could have shared breakfast or at least parted with a kiss, or a hug.

Jerome clearly did not suffer such a need. Contrary to what he'd said, he could and had had enough. And then he had left her rumpled bed without a word.