Evil Cupid

Evil Cupid, Part Three

And the conclusion.... I hope you've enjoyed this.

Part Three:

Those words were like the key to unlocking a floodgate of emotion. The flames that had pooled in my center raced outward, lighting my soul itself on fire. A pixie only gave in once in a hundred years or so, depending on how long the conquerer survived. It was an oath in a way, but it had such sweet rewards.

My nerves were alive with passion and everything around me was clearer, crisper, and more vibrant. It seemed like I could feel every tastebud of Adam’s tongue rake over the skin at my neck. The frantic rhythm of his heartbeat echoed in my own chest. And, very soon, I’d be having the best orgasm since the year 1523 AD. It wasn’t like me to give in, but a Cupid was an interesting choice. At least I’d only have to deal with him on Valentine’s Day.

Adam’s mouth closed over my nipple and pulled with a long, wet suck. Effectively shutting off all my thoughts and lighting my passion further. I heard another slide of metal and realized he’d removed the handcuffs. It didn’t matter- I didn’t want to fight it anymore. Instead my hands ran over his body in excited strokes, pulling him closer and urging him on without words.

My need had risen to a fever pitch and my core was almost painful from wanting to be filled. I part my legs farther and arch my hips. His erection slides across the wet core of me and I moan low in my throat. I’m beyond words at this point, I have to use my body to try for what I want. My hands glide over his hips and between us to his erection.

I use my own moisture on the soft, hardened skin to ease my trail up and down his cock. I only manage three strokes before his groan stops me. Adam’s hand moves mine away as his hips press against me. My eyes close, waiting for that moment when he slams home.

They open in wonder to the slow glide of his cock into my core. My wetness makes for an easy entry, but he still moves slow and I feel every tiny adjustment of my body to him. It’s almost as if the submission of my soul isn’t enough- he needs my body to give in too.

I wrap my legs around his hips trying to force him deeper but his hands pin my hips to the floor. The squeeze of his fingers into my sensitive flesh there adds to the feeling of being captured and I love it. I moan to protest the slow side of him, wanting it hard and fast, needing that elusive release.

Finally I can feel him inside me, every crevice filled to capacity and I whimper with joy. That is, until he begins to withdraw. My body moves against his, trying to draw out the delicious contact and then he slams home. His head hits my sensitive spot and I cry out in pleasure, my nails scoring trails onto his back. Again and again he repeats the maneuver until I’m writhing on the carpet, dying a slow death as my fever grows within me.

I find myself airborne again, but this time I’m safely in Adam’s arms. I let him manhandle me, that’s part of the agreement of my earlier submission. I am completely in his power and I’m thankful for a second that he’s treating me with care. Gratitude flies out the window as the change in position forces him deeper within me. I lean forward and bite his shoulder, suckling at the red welts.

Adam climbs onto the bed with me, oddly fixing me in a position of power. I stare down at him in confusion. A lift of his hips brings another groan of ecstasy from my lips.

“Dance, Anna... take control,” he moans, gripping my hips and directing me.

Never in this ritual have I been allowed to be in control and it excites me. My body takes over, riding him based on instinct, feeling, and need. A shot of electricity sizzles up my core as his thumb rubs over my sensitive clit, rocketing my bliss into overdrive.

I can feel the tendrils of the orgasm whisper through my muscles as the room fades to black in my vision. Still my hips pump and grind against him, his hips rising to meet me, and his thumb continuing its persistent slide.