“What, is everything okay?” I breathe. Poor thing has had quite a day.
“Oh, yeah,” she says. “It’s wonderful. You’re wonderful.” She pulls me closer, grinding up against me some more. I can’t take this anymore; I have to have her. I turn her over and kiss the back of her neck and she gets up on her hands and knees. “Take me,” she whispers. “Fuck me.”
I unzi
p my jeans as quickly as I can and throw them on the floor. She’s still wearing her waitressing skirt. I push it up around her waist, revealing her round ass, just covered with a matching set of lacy boy shorts.
Damn. I feel like my cock is going to explode, but I want to savor her body. I take her ass cheeks in my hands and rub them softly, and then pull the crotch of the panties to the side. She looks so beautiful, like a flower waiting for me. I lean down and lick the soft flesh, taking her lips in my mouth and sucking them before running my tongue down to her clit. She’s crying out now, almost sobbing my name as I work her clit with my tongue and then suck the little pearl into my mouth. I lick the whole of her length, and put my finger inside as she moans softly.
“Oh my God, that feels so good,” she says. “So incredible.”
It’s hard to hold back, to tease both of us, but it’s also hard to pull away from her sweet pussy. I lick and suck a little longer until a shiver runs through her and she contracts against my finger. She thinks she’s coming now, but I’m going to give her more. Much more.
On my knees, I take hold of her hips again with one hand, and then guide the head of my cock to her, stroking her softly with the purple head. She squirms and moans, and then moves backward, enveloping my length with her swollen lips. Now it’s my turn to groan as I feel the softness of her bare skin against mine. I probably should have sheathed up, but it's too late now. I can’t stand it any longer, and thrust my full nine inches into her, up to the hilt.
Quivering, impaled on my cock, her pussy ripples wetly and deliciously over the length, and as I pull out slowly, I savor each millisecond of our coming together. In all my years of bedding women, I’ve never felt anything quite like this for someone. It’s not just the incredible warm feeling of her soft wetness on me, it’s the feeling of giving myself over to her, wanting her to feel everything I do. But the feeling of plunging into her is pretty incredible all on its own. I push myself back into her, and her pussy allows me in, so wet and warm and tight.
She’s moving with me now, pushing against me as I push in, and staying still when I pull out and tease us with just the head of my cock inside. Both my hands on her hips, I guide her beautiful ass toward me and back, watching as she takes me in fully and swirling inside her.
We’re building up the pace now, and I reach down and rub the swollen pearl of her clit as I fill her, feeling her stretch around me. I push into her and out as I circle her. Goddamn she feels amazing. I could do this all day.
“Canada, you feel so fucking good,” I grunt. “You have the best pussy. The best.”
I can feel her squeezing me as I go in again, rippling over me. We’re both groaning now, our cries mingling and timing with our thrusts.
I want to see her face again, so I pause to turn her over. She’s a little red, breathless, smiling, and I put her legs over my shoulders and push inside once more. The angle is different, I’m rubbing against the top of her canal now, and her eyes widen in surprise before she lets out another groan. Oh God, she turns me on.
I move faster and faster, and watch her face crumple into orgasm before she stiffens and then ripples all over my hard dick. I hold out to give her one more before I collapse into her, convulsing, sending jet after jet into her softness, making her more and more wet. She wraps her legs around me and holds me tight as we shiver and shake from the aftershocks. Then we’re finally quiet.
My mind is completely peaceful, here with Chastity in my arms. We stare up at the high ceiling, neither of us saying anything. Just quiet. I don’t remember the last time I felt so calm. I turn to kiss her and she kisses me back, softly, before we collapse back into the cushions again. Then she kisses me once more. I remember her burns, temporarily forgotten in the rush of coming together.
“We should sort out your feet,” I tell her.
“Yep,” she answers. “In a moment. Let’s just lie here for a little longer.”
I kiss her. “I’ve got some aloe plants in the yard that I can heal those burns with. They’re better than any commercial medicine.”
She looks thoughtful. “Sounds good to me.”
I struggle up and away from her. She’s stretched out on the bed, her skirt still around her waist, her legs long and beautiful. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I say, pulling on my jeans. “Sit tight.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, and the way she looks at me, so trusting and kind, just slays me.
Twenty-Three
Chastity
Watching Kanen walk out of a room has become one of my greatest pleasures. The way his ass looks in those jeans is a work of art. I’m sure it could even inspire Michelangelo, it’s so perfect. But when he leaves, I realize just how much my feet are stinging. I sit up on the incredibly soft bed and turn one sole up to look at it. It’s looking even worse. Some of the blisters are now weeping. I don’t know how I could possibly manage to really walk on them for at least a week.
And now I’m in Kanen’s apparently huge mansion on his ranch. I hope he doesn’t mind if I’m stuck here for a little while as they heal. If there’s any luck in the world the aloe will work like a dream, and I won’t have to impose on him.
I try to get up to go to the bathroom, figuring I can maybe walk on the outsides of my feet to avoid touching the soles to his gorgeous but probably painful hardwood floor, and it’s absolute torture. Still, I don’t want him to have to carry me back and forth, so I clutch everything I can on the way and make it to the toilet.
The bathroom is huge, which normally would be a positive thing, but now every step is a bigger challenge than even walking in those heels was. I finally am able to plop my butt down and admire the room. It’s made of some kind of black stone, and there’s a beautiful walk-in shower, and a vanity with two sinks. I wonder who the second one was intended for?
When I’m done, I wash my hands and hobble back to the bed, sinking down onto it gratefully.
Kanen comes in, a handful of aloe in his hands, and sits on the floor in front of me. Seeing him minister so carefully to my feet is bringing out a whole other side to him. Kanen, the Wrecker, the man who defended my honor and his own in my restaurant, now carefully cutting open the thick fleshy leaves and gently dripping the cool liquid onto my wounds, is a sight to behold.