End of the Innocence

Chapter 47

There had been a moment, when Brad had ordered her to her knees, when I was already two orgasms down, and she hadn’t even been touched, that I felt bad for this woman. That I felt like we were using her, not respecting her properly. All of that left my mind when he moved inside of her. Didn’t thrust, didn’t shove. He took his time—let her adjust. One long, slow movement of his body forward. Her head dropped back, away from my body, and she let out a sound. Something in between a moan and a groan, a satisfied sound, which made me smile, my spent body reviving. Yes, I knew. I knew exactly what that felt like. The chemical reaction of his cock that was somehow, impossibly, different than any other man’s. She wasn’t getting him bare. She wasn’t getting the full force of Brad De Luca. But even sheathed with latex, his cock was incredible. Then he started moving, started fucking, his hands falling to her ass, gripping, squeezing. He leaned slightly forward, gripped her skin, stared into my eyes and moved.

I got it. I got why he did this. I didn’t think I’d ever need it the way he did, our threesomes his assurance that I was beyond satisfied. He didn’t want just satisfaction from me. He wanted my mind ripped three ways from Sunday, wanted my body to peak and fall fifteen times in one night. Wanted me to feel raw animalism alongside heart-stopping passion. Wanted me to feel beautiful, sexual. Wanted me to open every padlocked closet in my fantasy palace and explore whatever treats I locked away. He would never be satisfied with ordinary, would never want just part of my heart, part of my body. He wanted every barrier stripped, every veil lifted, until he and I were fucking intertwined, my pleasure giving him his pleasure, his pleasure giving me mine.

I got it. The feeling that suddenly swelled through me. It was insanity in the form of raving, passionate lust. I felt competitive and jealous and sexual, all rolled into one. I knew, as I stared into his eyes, as he swept a greedy, ravenous stare over my body, that he wanted me. He was eating my body with his gaze, his fucks increasing in tempo, the girl’s cries mounting as he stopped being gentle and started being Brad.

“Fuck yourself,” he gritted out. “With your fingers. Let me see you. Let me see inside you.”

I rolled over and moved back, until I was before them. I spread my legs, dipped a finger, then two, inside my mouth, Brad’s eyes darkening as I sucked them. Not lightly, not with ladylike daintiness. I sucked my fingers and wanted his cock. I drug my wet fingers down, his stare following, the muscles on his chest and shoulders standing to attention as he drilled into her, and I spread my lips and let him see the extent of my arousal, the extent of my want.

She was close. I could hear the change in her cries, the slap of Brad’s balls, each thrust spanking her clit, his rapid-fire motion taking her quickly up the hill of orgasm. My eyes left Brad’s, watching her face, her expression. She met my gaze, her own almost frantic. Gone was the cool and collected vixen who waited on this bed, candles illuminating her perfect skin. Right then she was a current of whatthefuckishappening, an identity I knew well, her eyes glazing over as she lost all rational thought and exploded. My fingers stopped fucking around, stopped their teasing ways. They found their way to my sex and dove inside.

♥♥♥

I thought I knew Julia but I didn’t. There was so much I had yet to discover, yet to unearth. We hadn’t talked about this, hadn’t talked about bringing another woman into the bedroom. I didn’t need it. It didn’t feed my competitive fire. I didn’t need to know that I was the best every woman out there has had. I only needed to be her best, only needed to learn every inch of her body and the way to light it on fire.

But did she need a girl? Did she have the same competitive fight that I carried? Did it get her off to see me fuck another woman? If so, I would bang away. Fuck this blonde when the woman I wanted was spread open before me, her fingers where my mouth or cock should be, her chest heaving with intensity that I was not causing.

My fear was that it was not for her. My fear was that she was doing this for me, thinking that this is something I needed, I wanted. My fear was that she hated this, and I was killing a piece of her sexual fire with every stroke into this stranger. I gave one final thrust and pulled out, squeezing the girl’s ass and gently rolling her aside, bending forward until my mouth was on Julia, and I was tasting her sweet pussy. Her fingers moved for my mouth, her body bucked up and I grabbed her, held her down and used my tongue to tease the hell out of my future wife.

God, I loved this woman.

♥♥♥

Brad took me to a third high, my barriers to orgasm weak, each peak making the next one easier, my body a tight coil of arousal. January’s mouth covered my breasts, her firm tongue playing against my nipples, her teeth gentle when she grazed them across my skin. I reached a hand out, brushed it over her breasts, their weight heavy. They moved so differently than mine. They hung when she bent over, bounced when she got fucked. I tentatively squeezed one, and she smiled, moved closer for easier access. Kissed me softly as I explored her upper half.

Then I came, and everything went black.

♥♥♥

A fight of tongues. Both of us greedy for more. Of his shaft, of his head, the small bit of pre-cum that leaked from his tip. Occasionally our mouths would meet, join for a moment of playful fun, then return, our hands also on him. Stroking. Eyes begging. On our knees on the soft carpet before him.

His never left mine. Dark intensity. Fierce arousal. They stayed on me until his thighs clenched, his abs tightened, his hand found the back of my head and pulled me foremost on his cock. I dove, sucking hard, using my hand and staring up into his face. Then his mouth moved, my name as a groan on his lips and his eyes lidded shut.

I love watching him come.

I took what I could, and January’s tongue chimed in, helping me drain him dry. Then he lifted us, one by one, to our feet.

“We’ll leave you the room,” he said. “Take as long as you need, the attached bath and shower is yours if you need it.”

She didn’t linger, and a few minutes later, with our passports back in the safe, the men and January gone, Brad closed the door to our bedroom, and fixed me with a look. A look I knew, yet still questioned.

“Get on the bed,” he growled.

I didn’t move fast enough, and he lifted me up, carrying me in four large strides to the bed where he tossed me, the robe I had thrown on tangling in my limbs, and I fought the silk and looked into his mischievous eyes. “What, you didn’t like your present?”

“That wasn’t my present,” he said, bending over me, his mouth nuzzling the silk robe open, his hands untying the sash and spreading it, bites and kisses running down the length of my torso as he climbed atop the bed, my legs opening before him. “This. This will be my present.”

I didn’t know what man considered two hours of driving me wild a present, but I could tell you this—

I wasn’t ever letting him go.