Reward

At last John turned this precious pixie to face him, far beyond impatient to be inside of her, using one hand to sweep her shirt off of her shoulder, passing it down across her breast, stroking her side, gripping her thigh while his other arm slipped around to her back, under her arm, up to the nape of her neck as cocking his head he brought his mouth fully on hers. He knelt but was rigidly upright, attempting to accommodate his by-now-painful arousal. She pushed the jacket of his suit off of his shoulder as he channeled her arm toward his core and soon she was tugging at his shirt to access the head of his cock overtopping his belt. Breaking their lip-lock with a gasp he hastened to open his belt and trousers and free himself from its constriction. Sliding downward his tongue found her neck, and throat.

“We might be more comfortable on the bed,” she suggested in a near whisper, following it with a gasp of her own.

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be comfortable,” he countered, but pulled a pillow from the couch onto the floor behind her, replacing it with the jacket he had finally managed to shed. Bringing his arm out from under hers and snaking it across her shoulders he caught her neck in the crook of his elbow, capturing her mouth once more.

She slid slowly down his thighs as he rose up onto his knees to allow her to lower his trousers and boxers to his immense relief. As he levered her onto the waiting pillow she opened her thighs in invitation. His tie, though loose, hung freely and its silk swept across her bare breasts as he made it catch again and again on her beckoning nipples. Propping himself he slid against her, slickening along her own arousal, positioning both of them with a shift of his hips. His kisses marched across her forehead from temple to temple before she sunk her mouth to his chest, pressing and sucking wherever she made contact even as she squirmed beneath him, desperate to be entered. Raising his hips he complied and as she rocked to accommodate him he plunged to the hilt, filling her completely.

Now was not the time for slow, languorous love-making; they met with a force that neared that of a collision. As he ground against her wriggling hips they soon found their rhythm despite their frantic, hyperkinetic movements. His shirt rode up and with a hand on the small of her back he pressed his belly to hers, bending and arching, reaching over her shoulder, planting an elbow on the rug and driving her up into it, flexing his hips to gain that last fraction of depth. On her part she arched as well, no longer accommodating and inviting him but consuming, demanding, drawing him in, hands clutching his butt to pull him deeper, farther, further. Feeling her tighten around him he sped and shortened his strokes only to feel her speed faster in response. At depth he could feel her responding to him with quivers and shakes even as she clutched and gripped and bucked. As compliant as she had been earlier, she now seemed to demand more and more and more of him as he sought the touch of her skin to augment their mindlessly racing loins. His mouth found her shoulder, and behind and under her ear, and her hair before leaving her entirely as he raised his head in a final nearly desperate attempt, seeming to want to enter her completely, merge with her into one pulsing, vibrating whole. Her grip overwhelmed him, tore his climax from him even as she spasmed with her own. Their coupling became little more than the press and release of pressure between their deeply joined bodies, without thought, a reflexive response to each other’s slightest movement. He filled her completely and she drank deeply, taking his all.

He slowed as they rocked together, long, deliberate, diminishing strokes reflecting his depletion, her hands now clutching his back. Bit by bit he felt his involuntary withdrawal though violent spasms continued to shake her. At last he fell back, away, breathless and brainless, lying on the rug next to her as if knocked unconscious, struck by lightning, or, most reasonably, both.

After long quiet minutes at his side, her arm inching farther and farther across him, she raised her head.

“You’re still dressed,” she giggled. It was largely true – his shoes were tied and his tie, though loose, was still knotted.

Observing that her sleeves were now down to her elbows he replied, “And you, lovely lady, are finally naked.” Using the last of her wardrobe to restrain her, he put her onto her back, his mouth claiming her breast, pinning her beneath him.

“Sir?” she began from her willingly captive state.

“John… my name is John…”

“Um, yeah, John?” she tried again, “There’s something I should probably tell you.”