Crunchtober 2012 Day 22

AND.... finally:

Write about asking for mercy

Her nipples tasted of strawberries, and Connor looked up at her in surprise, one eyebrow cocked in question.

“Trade secret,” she said, using her interior muscles to squeeze his cock and refocus his attention.

She arched her back as he devoted himself to worship of her breasts. He sucked the nipples to rigid points, alternately licking them with a soft tongue and lightly nipping at them with his teeth. Her motions on his cock became more frantic as she drove towards orgasm, and he widened his thighs to give a deeper thrust.

Her mouth clamped down on the spot between his collarbone and his shoulder. Her frantic sucking sent tendrils of need through his body. He bucked under her, unable and unwilling to let her provide all the motion. They rocked together, fingernails raking down the muscles of their backs, fingers pinching, mouths searching for purpose, tongues fighting a battle as old as humankind.

Stella began to cum and her muscle spasming drove Connor over the edge as well. They clung to each other, hearts pounding, as their bodies slowly unclenched and relaxed into each other.

“Feel better?” her impertinent question was asked against the hollow of his neck where his heartbeat still fluttered wildly.

“I feel like I still have work to do,” he growled in response. He shifted his body to turn and lay her back on the furs. “My father taught me you must always groom a steed after you have taken it for a ride.”

He pushed open her thighs and drove his tongue into her tender flesh. She arched up at his assault and then relaxed to his ministrations, shuddering and moaning her pleasure softly into the furs beside her head.

He could taste his seed mingled with her juices and it drove him to deeper explorations. She was a mystery and his tongue probed for answers, alternately thrusting rigidly, or lapping with long strokes against the tender flesh. When her orgasm came she tightened the muscles of her thighs, thrusting his head back, too overcome by sensation to allow any further contact.

“Feel better?” he asked when she finally stopped shaking.

They spent the long afternoon while the ship was becalmed alternately pleasuring each other and sleeping; waking only to drive towards climax again. Stella welcomed Connor’s long pent up desire, and matched it with a sensuality of her own. The repeated cycle of tension and release relaxed him in a way that he hadn’t managed in nearly sixteen years.

Finally, he reached a point of exhaustion, and his satiated manhood would not rise again. “Have mercy, woman! I am an old man.”

“Not so old in my book, Connor Graves,” Stella said with a satisfied cat of a smile as she curled up with her head on his shoulder and drifted off to sleep.

As Connor lay listening to her gentle snores, he marveled at the restorative magic of a lover’s touch. He felt more clear-headed than he had in ages. He still missed his wife; he would likely mourn her loss all his days. But for now, lying tangled in the curls of this obstinate and remarkable Irish girl, he was content.