Chapter 93: Passionate Night R18+ 3
He worked his finger in and out slowly, letting her adjust, and when the tension in her shoulders began to ease, he added a second finger.
"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, that’s—"
"Good?"
"More. Keep going."
He scissored his fingers gently, stretching her, and Makima’s hips pushed back against his hand, her body asking for more even as her breath came in shallow gasps. Her asshole relaxed by degrees, opening for him, and the sight of his fingers disappearing into her tightest place made pre-cum bead at the tip of his now-fully-erect cock.
"Now," she said. "I’m ready. I want you inside me there."
He withdrew his fingers and coated his cock with more lubricant, the cold gel contrasting sharply with the heat of his skin. Then he positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock pressing against her prepared hole with a gentle, steady pressure.
"Breathe," he said.
She exhaled, and he pushed.
The head of his cock breached her, and Makima’s back arched, a low moan tearing from her throat. She was exquisitely tight—tighter than her pussy had been, the pressure almost overwhelming—and Sean forced himself to hold still, to let her body accommodate the intrusion.
"Don’t stop," she gasped. "All the way."
Inch by inch, he sank deeper, her asshole gripping him like a velvet vise. By the time he was fully seated inside her, both of them were trembling. The sight of her stretched around him, her full backside pressed against his hips, was almost enough to make him come then and there.
"Okay," she breathed. "Move. But slow at first."
He moved.
The rhythm he found was slow and deep, each thrust dragging a moan from both of them. The lubricant made the slide smooth, but the pressure was still immense—a tight, pulsing heat that was different from her pussy, more intense, more taboo. Makima’s fingers clutched the sheets, her knuckles white, and her moans grew louder with every stroke.
"Faster," she said. "Harder. I can take it."
He braced his hands on her hips and gave her what she asked for. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room again—the obscene wet slap of lubricant and skin, the creak of the bedframe, their mingled breathing. His cock drove into her ass with a rhythm that was savage and worshipful all at once, and Makima took every inch of it, her body arching and bowing beneath him.
Her hand slipped between her legs, fingers finding her clit, and when she began to circle the swollen nub, Sean felt her asshole clench around him in response.
"Yes," she cried. "Oh god, yes—"
Her climax hit her like a freight train. She screamed into the pillow, her whole body convulsing, and the rhythmic pulsing of her asshole around his cock tipped him over the edge for the second time that night. He came with a guttural groan, spilling himself deep inside her, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips hard enough to bruise.
They collapsed together onto the mattress, a tangle of limbs and sweat and cooling lubricant, both of them gasping into the quiet air.
"Round two," Makima finally managed.
Sean laughed—a real laugh, breathless and surprised—and pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade. "Round two."
She rolled onto her side to face him, her hair a wild mess, her cheeks flushed, her blue eyes soft and shining. "How long do you need?"
"For round three?" He considered. "Give me a few minutes."
She traced his lips with her fingertip, a small, private smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Take all the time you need."
He kissed her fingertip, then her knuckle, then her palm. "Just a few."
—
Makima didn’t let him wait long.
Minutes passed, maybe ten, their breathing slowly evening out, the sweat cooling on their skin. Makima got up briefly and came back with a glass of water, which they shared in silence, her eyes never leaving his face. Then she set the glass aside, pushed him onto his back, and straddled his hips.
"Round three," she said, "is going to be different."
She positioned herself over his cock—half-hard but already stirring at the sight of her above him—and lowered herself onto him without preamble. Her pussy swallowed him whole, still slick and warm from their earlier exertions, and Sean groaned as she took him to the root.
"I want to watch your face this time," she said,while using her hands to put sean dick into her pussy and then she began to move. "I want to see everything."
She rode him slow and deep, her hips rolling in a practiced rhythm that made her breasts sway and her hair fall forward around her face. The lamplight caught the sheen of sweat on her collarbone, the soft curve of her stomach, the place where their bodies joined. Sean’s hands found her hips, then slid up to cup her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples.
"Like that," she breathed. "Don’t stop."
He didn’t. His hands roamed her body as she moved above him, tracing the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, the tops of her thighs. Her pussy was a hot, wet grip around him, and the angle let him hit deeper than before. Makima’s head fell back, her throat exposed, her moans climbing in pitch.
"I’m close," she said. "But I want—"
"What do you want?"
She looked down at him, her blue eyes wild and bright. "I want to taste myself on you."
He understood. He pulled her down and flipped them in one motion, settling between her thighs, and then he was inside her again, missionary now, his hips pumping with a steady, grinding rhythm that made her cry out with every thrust.
"Kiss me," she gasped. "I want to taste everything."
His mouth met hers, and her tongue slid against his, and he knew she could taste herself there—the salt and sweet and musk of her own arousal, transferred from his lips. She moaned into the kiss, her legs wrapping around his waist, her heels pressing into the small of his back.
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