This new room makes the old one he took me to seem run down. The crown molding, Tiffany lamps, Chesterfield couch, and all the other embellishments put this place in a class of its own. It’s the kind of suite a celebrity would stay in when in town.
“It’s a shame to take that dress off of you. You look breathtaking, but it has to go,” he says.
There’s no zipper or contraption holding it on, just clingy fabric. I lift it up and over my head in one fluid motion, and toss it onto the couch. I’m in nothing but my black bra, lace thong, and heels.
“That body,” he says with an appreciative whistle to follow.
His clothes come off next. Even his boxers. His size surprises me still, even after I’ve been with him twice. I’m amazed my body can take it all.
When I try to take off my bra, he stops me. “No, allow me,” he says, and reaches behind me to find the clasp. My body shivers, and goose bumps spread across my skin. I don’t know why I’m so nervous being with him again. It might be because he’s willing to move to a different town to give this thing between us a shot. That’s a lot of pressure. What if, outside the bedroom for any length of time, we’re not compatible? Or what if this jealous beast inside of me can’t be tamed with just a promise? Can one actually tie down the O-Maker with monogamy without him becoming resentful?
He silences my doubts with a single touch. My bra slides off and his warm hands cup my breasts, kneading them in his big paws. I reach down, taking his length in my hands, a tire iron wrapped in silk skin, and slowly stroke him.
Our mouths collide in a deep and delirious kiss that has us both gasping for air when we come apart. He takes the sides of my panties and slides them down my legs until they pool at my feet. I step out of them. He cups my ass cheeks, jiggling them, making my generous backside bounce in his hands. He is definitely an ass man.
“I need you so bad right now,” he says into my neck as he licks sand sucks at my pulse. “I want to make you feel things you’ve never experienced before,” he says, sliding his fingers down the seam of my butt.
“How do you know I’ve never experienced those things before?” I say mischievously.
He bites my neck and kisses his way to my chin. Then he leans back so our eyes meet. “I’m reading your body. It’s telling me all your secrets” He flicks his tongue out, licking my lips. “There’s more than one way to have an orgasm. Do you think you’re up for it?” he says.
Right now I’m up for anything. I know what he wants and I want to give it to him. What’s mine is his. The idea of him claiming that forbidden area sends chills throughout my body and turns my pussy into a drip system.
“Yes, I want it,” I say.
He mumbles a sound of approval, and bends down, taking one of my nipples between his lips and giving it a hard suck before moving to the other. By the time he’s done with my breasts, my nipples are swollen and brutally pink, and my body aches to be filled in every way possible.
“Get on the bed and spread your pussy lips for me,” he says.
I do as I’m commanded.
“Wider,” he says. “I want to see inside of you.”
Again, I do what I’m told.
The chandelier above me rains bright light down on my glistening parts, giving him an unobstructed view. Whatever flaws I may have are out there, exposed. It’s a vulnerable position to be in, and yet with Heath, I feel safe. Wanted. Desired.
His tongue, wide and flat, starts at my asshole and licks all the way to my clit in one long stroke. He does this over and over again.
“Spread your ass for me too,” he demands.
I move my fingers so I can spread both my ass and pussy at the same time. Heath lets out a craving grunt. He then delves his fingers into my pussy, hooking them and drawing out as much of my natural cream as he can scoop out, then transfers it to my ass. When there’s enough of it, he slides his finger into my tight back entrance. It’s sloppy wet, making embarrassing squelching noises. But the sound only seems to turn him on more and so I forget about it, and revel in the feel of his finger in that naughty place.
As my body stretches, I want more. As if sensing this need, he inserts another finger. This keeps going until he has three fingers inside of my ass and is pounding them inside of me. My pussy pumps out enough lubricant to keep everything moist and slick so there’s never any uncomfortable friction, just a wonderful, full feeling.
Suddenly his fingers are out of me and I feel this lonely empty feeling. He scrambles to the chair where he chucked his jeans, retrieving a condom and a small tube hastily, and returning to me on the bed.
He rolls me onto my side so we’re spooning with him behind me. He lifts my leg to that my high-heeled foot is in the air. “I need to be inside you,” he insists, rolling the condom down his length and then entering my pussy from behind.
He pushes in until his balls are pinned tight against my butt. Keeping still, he allows my body to adjust to his length before starting to slide in and out of me. I feel swollen inside, my sheath clamping down around him, trying to hold him in my depths each time he pulls out.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he says breathlessly in my ear. “Are you ready for me?”
There’s a tinge of fear in my gut. He’s so big. It’s one thing to have fingers inside of me, but it’s another to have a massive cock. This is uncharted territory. What if it hurts? What if the pain of it kills the entire mood?
“I’ll be gentle,” he says, reading my body language as I tense up. I hear the pop of the tube’s cap. “This will help. Just relax.”
I let out a long, slow breath and become just a puddle of skin and bone in his arms.
“Good girl,” he says with a smile in his voice.
He spreads my butt cheeks apart with one hand and guides the slick head of his dick to my back entrance with the other.
I close my eyes and breathe slowly, in through my nose and out my mouth, steady, relaxed.
The initial shock of his bulbous head sliding in makes me tense up without meaning to, and there’s a sudden spear of pain.
“Relax,” he reminds me.
I allow myself to loosen up and continue to breathe. He stays still to allow my body to get used to this new intruder, then starts to inch his way into me. The lube helps, but it’s a slow, daunting process. The moans coming from me are louder than they’ve ever been. It’s uncomfortable at first, this new sensation of this taboo place being filled. But as his slippery pole starts to move, lubricating this uncharted tunnel, discomfort quickly becomes pleasure and pressure and a new sense of wonder. It’s sexy and it’s dirty, and so very hot. When I’ve adjusted to his size and my body is completely loosened up, I rock back into him.
“More,” I say.
He chuckles, a deep, throaty sound and says, “I knew you’d like it.”
He pushes all the way into me, and my breath hitches. He starts to fuck me now, hard and fast. I’m crying, screaming, begging him not to stop. As if I weigh nothing at all, he flips me onto my stomach, pounding me viciously into the mattress.
“Oh fuck!” I scream, but my face buried in the pillow muffles the sound.
“That tight ass is all mine,” he says, claiming me for his own. I am his. I know this now. I will always be his.
My pussy is completely untouched and yet I feel that familiar sensation knotting up somewhere deep in the depths of my core. Like a starving lion broken free from its cage, my orgasm comes barreling toward me, claws out, roaring. The room fills with the high-pitched sounds of my release.
Heath pumps two, three more time into me, and makes his own furious growl as he comes vigorously.
He pulls out and collapses beside me. The room swells with the smell of sex, the most beautiful perfume in the world. He brushes the sweaty hair from my face and asks, “What did you think?”
I laugh, unable to describe the powerful, lusty perfection of it all. “Incredible,” is the only word I can think of right now to describe it.
He smiles and kisses me. I can’t believe this is going to be my life. What once had been a barren, pleasure-less, orgasm free existence, has transformed into something I thought only happened in dreams and fantasies.
* * *
After Heath drops me off at my apartment, I take a shower, the hot water relaxing my sore muscles. I’m still going over the best sex of my life, play by play, reliving each and every wonderful moment.
Once I’m out of the shower, I roll my hair up in a towel, put on a robe and go back to my room. My computer makes a sound. It’s an alert letting me know there’s activity on my feed and that I’ve been tagged in it. After what happened with that woman from the bar, my stomach clenches at the sound. As much as I want to ignore it, I force myself to open my Twitter app.
When I scroll to the top of my screen, I see a tweet from Heath, an announcement to all his followers.
Heath-O-Maker James: Sorry ladies, but the O-Maker is off the market. For good, I hope.
He has me tagged in the post so there’s no mistaking who he’s talking about this time. My smile claims my entire face.
I happily respond to his post: Because of the O-Maker, I am the No-O no longer.
* * *