Futile Resistance Ch. 02

"Put your hand back on the headboard," he said in a low voice, his tone brooking no argument.

Drawing in a shaky breath, French obeyed. Satisfied with her compliance, Aidan lowered his head again and proceeded to feast. He licked and nibbled her pussy, sucking her lips into his mouth, spearing his tongue into her as she bucked her hips against him. He gripped her hips, held her down, lightly circled her clit with his tongue. Her body trembled and she began to moan, gasping and panting, pleasure claiming her senses. She wanted more, wanted him to suck her clit into his mouth, to end her agony of sweet ecstasy. She tried to press her hips upward, found she couldn't. Shifting his hands, Aidan pressed one on top of her pubic bone, still holding her immobile. He slid the forefinger of his free hand into her, felt her muscles clamp down. He added another finger, felt her stretch wetly around him. He began to thrust his fingers in and out of her sheath slowly, twisting them as he did so. He firmed the strokes of his tongue on her clit, sometimes laving her with its pointed tip, other times flattening it, letting her feel the entire suede texture of it against her.

French panted, her breaths coming faster and deeper. Waves of pleasure coursed through her body, washing her in heat. Aidan sped up the strokes of his fingers in her. He lifted his mouth from her to watch her as he fucked her with his fingers. French gasped, bereft that he'd taken his mouth off of her. She keened, "No, Aidan, please don't stop. Please!"

He lowered his head, flicked her clit with his tongue, felt her body start to quake.

"Mmm, yes, Aidan, that's so good," she moaned and found that she could move her hips again. She ground upward, pressing her clit more firmly against his tongue, grunting, moaning and panting in rhythm with the thrusts of her hips, his fingers and his tongue. Then he sucked her clit firmly into his mouth and she exploded, bucking hard, squeezing his head between her slim thighs. Aidan pressed her thighs apart and pushed her harder, higher until she was lightheaded and felt her fingertips and toes start to tingle. She rode the crest of her orgasm for a long moment. She held her breath as she hung suspended on the tide of pleasure. He seemed to know just when to let up on her; he gentled his motions, his tongue and fingers more soothing now than arousing. She gasped for air, her eyes closed, her fingers loosely gripping the headboard. Her body was completely limp, she was drained. The muscles in her pussy clenched in spasms; apparently they were the only muscles on her body capable of any movement whatsoever.

French opened her heavy-lidded eyes. They were glazed with passion, her pupils dilated. Aidan slid his fingers out of her slickness. Her eyes widened slightly when he held his hand to her mouth and said,

"Suck them clean."

French opened her mouth, took his fingers in, tasted herself, sucked her sweet/tangy juices off of them. Aidan's composure cracked. He had held himself apart during this encounter, wanting to drown her in desire, bathe her in passion. He had driven himself mad in his seduction of her. He was painfully hard; he needed to be inside of her in the worst way. Without preamble, he thrust into her hard, drove into her to the hilt. She was so wet, so tight; her pussy clamped around him as he withdrew and thrust home again. He was beyond the point of being gentle, beyond the point of making love to her. He took her roughly, fucking her, going as deeply into her as he could.

French released her grip on the headboard, pulled Aidan's head down to give him a hot open-mouthed kiss. She met every one of his thrusts with an upward thrust of her own. The fine line between pleasure and pain began to blur as he pounded into her. All of her was focused on where they were joined; she felt herself being sucked into a vortex of all-consuming pleasure. Sweat gleamed on his body and his face was starkly set; lines of excruciating passion marked his features.

He straightened his arms, braced himself above her, changing the angle of penetration. He was able to thrust harder, at the same time stimulating French's clit on each inward thrust. French moaned, a low sustained sound that signaled the arrival of her climax. It ripped through her violently, wave after wave of it flogging her raw senses. Aidan felt the strong rhythmic contractions of her pussy and managed to thrust once more, again, then again. With a muffled roar, he came, pumping into her forcefully and repeatedly. He collapsed on top of French, his breath coming hard and fast, the pulse in his neck pounding visibly.

French wrapped her legs around his waist, the movement eliciting another spasm from her and a moan from Aidan. She turned her head, nipped his shoulder with her teeth, licked the spot, then kissed it. She stroked his back, soothed him, feeling the muscles there ripple as he struggled to regain his breath. A layer of sweat coated their bodies and as Aidan lifted himself off of her, their skin came unglued.

He collapsed next to her without a word and reached across her to extinguish the lamp on the nightstand. Exhausted, he pulled her to him spoon-fashion and kissed the back of her neck. The next thing she knew, his breathing had turned deep and regular. He slept.

French was dazed; she felt so many things at once. A little bruised and battered, but sated from head to toe. She had been well-loved, then well-used. She was so tired, she could barely keep her eyes open, but she was also exhilarated and strangely energized. She felt the fog of contentment stealing over her, yet the niggling worry that it was temporary was at the back of her mind.

She lay awake for a time, cataloguing her feelings. As the blue-gray light of dawn stole into the sky, she drifted off to sleep, cradled in Aidan's arms.