HARDCORE: Storm MC(23)

His hands roamed my back until they found their happy place on my ass cheeks, which he gripped firmly, squeezing and molding, until I was dripping with want. I shifted to straddle him on the couch, and soon enough I was perched on top of his hard cock, hidden and blunted through his jeans. I could feel his desire, and his mouth grew possessive of mine, the kiss rougher and more forceful.



He sucked hard on my lower lip, scraping it as he backed away from my face to strip my top over my head, and he found me braless beneath it. He suddenly surged forward, tumbling me on my back while his body covered mine. My head ended up near the armrest, cocooned into the padding. His large hands cupped my breasts, and he lowered his mouth to one nipple, licking its firm bud and then sucking it into his mouth, nipping and teething it variably. I struggled for breath. The sensations jetted directly down to my core center, and I could feel my juices flowing freely. I threw my head back and lifted my hips in a physical demand for attention southward. He was not in a mood to comply. He let out a deep short chuckle and said, “Babe.” Like that even meant anything.



But he just kept on going with his ministrations to my breasts and nipples, switching his attention between them, his hands molding their shape, pushing them together, scratching the sensitive skin with the new growth of his facial hair, rubbing and tonguing and sucking and squeezing and nipping. I was starting to lose my mind from the pleasure, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more.



I gripped his tousled, silky dark hair in my hands and he groaned. I forced myself to let go. My hands rolled down his back, and I dug my fingers into his muscles and dragged them upward again to his shoulder blades, letting him feel how mad he was driving me. “Dom, more.” I was having difficulty pulling words.



Finally, he pulled back and shifted his legs and feet to solid ground. In one swift move, he leaned in to gather me into his arms and stood up. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.” What’s a girl to do? I did as told.



He made short work of the journey to my bedroom, and suddenly we were bouncing together on my bed, our legs draped over the side. Our mouths reconnected, and sucking on his tongue became the most important thing for some moments. It was delicious. But he kept slipping it around my mouth, playing with me. I just chased after him, loving his taste and his scent and his muscular strength surrounding me.



I tugged on the kutte still hugging his shoulders. He must have been in an obliging mood, because he quickly slipped free of it and pulled his T-shirt off over the back of his head as well. Then we were skin to skin, and it was glorious. I loved the heat of him, the soft tickle of his chest hairs against my breasts and hard nipples, the power of his arms and torso on top of mine. I buried my nose in his neck, inhaling his scent, licking and sucking the soft throb of his pulse point.



He groaned and moved his hands to my waist, quickly slipping his fingers through the elasticity of my skirt’s waistband, pulling it down with the strings of my panties, stripping me bare in one go. His hands returned up the outsides of my legs. He kissed and licked his way along my inner thighs, from one knee to my pelvis, then repeated the process on the other side, teasing and nipping and licking and kissing his way. Then he slid two fingers into my wet lower lips, spreading my juices over them and circling my risen clit. Finally, he wrapped his arms around my thighs and buried his face in my open hot center. His mouth landed directly over my clit, and his tongue swept from below before circling it and then—god!—sucking on it. I sucked in air, my head thrown back, and I think I mewled.



He didn’t stop. He was lapping at me, circling and sucking and sipping and nipping. I lost track of the plot; I was all sensation. My hips must have been bucking, because I heard him say, “Stop it. Don’t move, Sienna.”



Jarred from the moment and confused about what was happening, I lifted my head to find his eyes hard on my face. His were dilated, fierce, his breath coming in deep pulls. He was all angles and flush with pumping blood. When he caught my lost look, he growled, “No movement, baby. Just feel.”



And his face returned to my center, and his mouth to his work. He had moved his arms so his hands were on top of my inner thighs, holding them down to the sides, pressing them into the bed so I was pinned and there was nowhere for me to go. Sensation overtook me again, the feel of that tongue, those lips and teeth, the licking, the circling, the thrusting, the sucking. God, the sucking.



I could feel my body tension and awareness rise exponentially even as it cut out all other aspects of my surroundings. My every nerve ending was coiled in heat and desire and anticipatory contraction. My arms were reaching over my head, hands grasping at the sheets, the pillows, anything, nothing. My head was nearly tipped back onto my crown, and I gasped for each breath. And in a moment, or five, or twenty, or a hundred, the world exploded. My body shook, my every sensation only pleasure. I was a flood of euphoria: drowning, filling, cascading, rising, falling, floating, drifting, shivering, and spreading. My entire being was bliss. It was like nothing—nothing—I’d ever felt before. It took me out of this world.