talesbyrosie
The small remote fell from your grasp, forgotten on the Persian rug. In three long strides you crossed the room, the need to touch her, to be inside her, overwhelming any thought of teasing or control. You knelt on the couch, parting her knees with your own. The device still hummed between her folds, but it was a mere prelude. You positioned yourself at her entrance, feeling the intense heat radiating from her core. For a heartbeat, you paused, looking down at her flushed face, her dark eyes clouded with a desperate, pleading desire. Then, you drove into her, hard and deep.
A sharp, uninhibited cry tore from Zaira's throat, a sound of pain and pleasure so seamlessly blended it was impossible to tell one from the other. Her body arched off the couch, her inner walls clenching tightly around your sudden, overwhelming invasion. You didn't give her a moment to adjust. You set a punishing rhythm, pulling out almost completely before slamming back into her, each stroke pushing deeper, harder. The wet slap of flesh against flesh filled the room, punctuated by her ragged gasps and your own guttural groans. Her nails dug into your shoulders, her legs wrapping around your waist, pulling you in, urging you on. This was no longer a game; it was a raw, primal claiming, a desperate need to merge so completely that nothing, not even a sliver of air, could remain between you. You watched her face, seeing the warrior melt away, replaced by a woman lost in a storm of sensation, her body yielding to yours completely as you pushed her toward a shattering precipice.