[ and she will, even if it takes the full half-hour. she has nowhere to be except waiting for him to come and play with her so she can talk dirty to him. ]
Quentin was still a little hard about it when he arrived home -- three edges and then friction from a lot of walking will do that to you. But it didn't take him the full half hour, at least, before he was in the door, taking off his bag and jacket. He'd acquired a plastic bag for his gloves and mask, just in case, so he put them in, then put the whole thing in his satchel. Feeling relatively safe from getting dosed or dosing Hope, only then did he take his boots off and head upstairs.
"Hey," he said at the door to her room, and felt the urge to kneel right here for her. Like he shouldn't stand in her presence. That was maybe a little intense, so he tried to split the difference a little, coming to the edge of the bed before he knelt. "I'm home," he observed astutely.
She'd known the instant he was in the house, tracking his heartbeat, then his steps, and now that he's at the edge of the bed, she leans over to cup his face and kiss him deeply. Every part of her is aching for him; nipples hard, pussy wet, and her skin is practically on fire as she thinks about him wanting her as much as he does.
"Tell me that you still want to edge yourself using my cunt," she whispers against his lips.
Her saying it against his mouth made him shiver, his jeans getting tighter already. He was already aching from the pressure, so he reached down to open them, not trying to get them off yet, just freeing himself with a sigh of relief. They could talk dirty for a minute with his dick out, it was fine.
"I wanna edge," he breathed, and kissed her again. "I wanna edge in your cunt, and I wanna make you come with my mouth when I need a longer break. Please." Another kiss. "Please, my lady, will you, will you let me edge in your cunt? Please?"
He was keeping it contained there on the floor, not letting himself squirm or anything, but his need felt like it was bursting out of him.
It came out a breathy sigh against his mouth as she kissed him again. "Such a good boy, just for me, I love it." Another kiss, passionate, her fingers curling against the side of his face. "Do it. Slowly, for me, edge yourself. I wanna feel it, hear you beg me to come--"
She tugged gently, urging him silently onto the bed with her.
Quentin got up and stripped his clothes off in record time, then followed her onto the bed. Manhandling her a little, he arranged them into the position that would work easiest for this: on their sides, facing each other. No complicated angles required, nothing that made either of them support their own weight, but easy to pull out when he needed to.
Once they were positioned, Hope's leg up over his hip, Quentin reached down to take hold of himself, rubbing the head of his cock between her lips, teasing them both for a moment. He took a long exhale as he came to rest in the right spot. "Good boys don't come," he whispered. Slowly, he shifted forward, letting out a desperate sound as he sank into her. "Good boys don't come. Good boys don't come."
It's a quiet echo of his chant as she mouths his neck, then his collarbone, nibbling there as she leaves a small mark with her kiss. The urge is there to fuck back against him, but she doesn't, putting everything she has into letting him fuck her to the edge. "Good boys go right to the edge, but they don't come until they're told."
Another kiss on his jaw. "You're so good, aren't you? My good boy."
Panting softly, he pulled her closer, arm around her waist so they were chest to chest, stomach to stomach. He was trying to control himself, go slow, but he couldn't help it. After just a few moments he was fucking desperately into her, fast and hard, chasing the orgasm he knew he couldn't have. He buried his face against her neck, just closing his eyes and letting himself rut. He was in control enough that he'd be able to stop when he needed to.
There was something about it, knowing that he was going to stop, that he wasn't going to let all that desperate fucking end for himself that turned her on, too. That he was using her body to get off mentally, but not physically, and Hope simply buried her face in his neck in return and held him as tightly as he held her. She squeezed around his cock, but didn't fuck him back nearly as desperately because she didn't want to throw off his rhythm or cause him to come when he wasn't supposed to. She just wanted him to have this as much as he wanted it.
Most of all, she liked the way he held her as close as possible to do it.
His hips stuttered once, twice, and then he pulled back, all the way out with a pained sound as his cock jerked, spurting a few drops against her.
"Good boys don't come," he whined against her shoulder, just clutching her tighter. "Good boys don't come. Good boys stay hard and needy, and, and, and don't come..." He couldn't help it, he sank back into her, thrust a few times, and then pulled out again with a ragged gasp. The edge wracked his body with a shiver.
Bringing a hand up to his hair, Hope stroked it as she echoed what he was saying, her words murmured against his ear as she held him tight still.
"Good boys don't come and you're a very, very good boy. Oh, Quentin--" She pressed a kiss to his head. "So good, you're so good. My good boy," she told him again, another kiss. "All mine."
She did not pull back or pull away or move in any way. More than anything, she wanted to be open for him, for the edging that he'd wanted.
Quentin let himself swim in the praise and soothing, let it wrap his brain in a soft blanket. He shivered again as he slid into her, his thrusts this time slow and long. "It hurts," he whispered. "It, it hurts, it hurts so good, it feels so good to e-edge for you..." He pulled out with another gasp, and then a tormented moan. He gave himself a little time, fifteen or twenty seconds, then slid inside again.
"Good boys don't come. Good boys edge and edge. Feels so good..."
"All for me," she reminded him as he did it again and again, her words spoken directly into his ear. "Because you're my good boy and I'm all yours, Quentin. Yours to edge for, your perfect cunt to edge with." Taking his earlobe in her mouth, she bit lightly. "Yours."
Holding tightly, she hummed when he said it again, then mouthed another kiss against his shoulder.
Quentin edged himself inside her a few more times, then pulled back a little further, panting and kissing all over her neck. "Need a break," he panted. "Can I, my mouth? I wanna make you come, please, you make me feel so good, please..." It would be a good way to come back from the edge a little, make it easier to do it without coming, while ensuring that he stayed hard and needy. Plus, she was spoiling him so well, letting him edge with her cunt like this, she deserved a few solid orgasms as thanks.
As close as she'd been with just his edging, it felt like a come-down for him to ask, but this wasn't for her - it was for him. So, she nodded, then gently pushed him in that direction. It wouldn't take long for her to get off with his mouth, though if she was hoping to keep him from coming until the next day like she'd told him earlier, she might have to banish him to another room.
He was not in any way done edging -- she was probably going to have to tell him to stop, eventually. But a break would only improve things, so he slid down, staying on their sides so his dick wouldn't have anything to grind into. He urged her leg up alongside his head and let his tongue slide into her cunt, moaning at the taste, at how wet she was.
Everything about her was ready to come, so as soon as he put his mouth on her, she felt it start and her hand went to his head.
"Wait," came her breathless order, pushing him back. "I just-- it's a lot for me, too. I'm gonna come right away if you do that and I just." She breathed deep and then nodded. "Okay."
That caught his attention, and Quentin licked his lips, looking from her pussy to her face and trying to gauge if he could form words right now. "Do you not..." Ugh, talking felt antithetical to his entire existence right now, but he was Interested. "You...edge?" he asked, looking up at her again with those big eyes. Because he was definitely down to edge her too, if that was what she wanted.
Fuck no, she did not edge. She wanted the orgasms as much as he wanted to give them, she just needed a second to mentally move from cock orgasm to mouth orgasm and it was a lot for her. She'd never, not once in the city, been part of something where someone was just so into giving that she still felt a bit self-conscious about letting herself just have them over and over again.
"No, no--" She took a deep breath, turning her head so she could look at him. "I just. I'm good. You're good, I'm ready."
Okay, that was fine, he just wanted to be clear. Because edging her with his mouth would be hot as fuck, he just wanted to give her what she wanted. So he went back at it, licking into her once more. He'd learned the techniques to use when she just wanted to fucking come, no dancing around it, so he did that, ready to dial back the intensity once she had.
The way her thighs clenched against his head, Hope had to remember to loosen her grip so that he could breathe and to let go of his head so that he could back off just a little and every little thrust of her hips, fucking his face, she had to calm herself because, in the span of a few short weeks, he had become expert in how to lick her cunt. He knew every spot to tease, how to drive her over the edge, and how to ease her back into nearly there territory. How to make her whine for more, beg to come, and tell him that he was the best boy.
Quentin did back off once she released him a little, already eager to be inside her again, but knowing he still needed more time or he was going to fuck up. He kept it a little easier now, giving long, slow licks to the sensitive flesh.
Hope simply didn't have the patience that he did, or the self control. Once she knew she was going to come, she was going to chase that high until it hit, then let him bring her to another one and then another. And now that she was calming down from that one, she could feel his mouth teasing and soothing and getting ready to go again.
"You're so good to me." She practically crooned the words, her fingers smoothing through his hair as she pushed her hips gently toward his mouth. "Such a good boy, not coming until I say it's okay. Making me come all over that pretty face."
Quentin made a soft, pleased noise at the praise and the petting, putting a little more effort in again. He'd work her up slow again, get her off a second time, then he could crawl back up. He just had to try not to think about that, about how it would feel to be inside her again, or he wouldn't calm down enough to handle it.
"You know how much I love the way your mouth feels on me, how much I love--" Hope gasped as her cunt spasmed against his mouth and she whined as her next orgasm stayed just out of reach. Rolling her hips up into his mouth, she tried again, her thighs tightening around his head for a moment before falling open again. "-- love that cock when you're fucking me."
She moaned more praise - such a good boy, so fucking pretty, best fucking tongue, wanna feel that cock - for almost another minute before her climax hit and she shattered against his face.
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[ and she will, even if it takes the full half-hour. she has nowhere to be except waiting for him to come and play with her so she can talk dirty to him. ]
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"Hey," he said at the door to her room, and felt the urge to kneel right here for her. Like he shouldn't stand in her presence. That was maybe a little intense, so he tried to split the difference a little, coming to the edge of the bed before he knelt. "I'm home," he observed astutely.
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She'd known the instant he was in the house, tracking his heartbeat, then his steps, and now that he's at the edge of the bed, she leans over to cup his face and kiss him deeply. Every part of her is aching for him; nipples hard, pussy wet, and her skin is practically on fire as she thinks about him wanting her as much as he does.
"Tell me that you still want to edge yourself using my cunt," she whispers against his lips.
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"I wanna edge," he breathed, and kissed her again. "I wanna edge in your cunt, and I wanna make you come with my mouth when I need a longer break. Please." Another kiss. "Please, my lady, will you, will you let me edge in your cunt? Please?"
He was keeping it contained there on the floor, not letting himself squirm or anything, but his need felt like it was bursting out of him.
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It came out a breathy sigh against his mouth as she kissed him again. "Such a good boy, just for me, I love it." Another kiss, passionate, her fingers curling against the side of his face. "Do it. Slowly, for me, edge yourself. I wanna feel it, hear you beg me to come--"
She tugged gently, urging him silently onto the bed with her.
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Once they were positioned, Hope's leg up over his hip, Quentin reached down to take hold of himself, rubbing the head of his cock between her lips, teasing them both for a moment. He took a long exhale as he came to rest in the right spot. "Good boys don't come," he whispered. Slowly, he shifted forward, letting out a desperate sound as he sank into her. "Good boys don't come. Good boys don't come."
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It's a quiet echo of his chant as she mouths his neck, then his collarbone, nibbling there as she leaves a small mark with her kiss. The urge is there to fuck back against him, but she doesn't, putting everything she has into letting him fuck her to the edge. "Good boys go right to the edge, but they don't come until they're told."
Another kiss on his jaw. "You're so good, aren't you? My good boy."
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Most of all, she liked the way he held her as close as possible to do it.
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"Good boys don't come," he whined against her shoulder, just clutching her tighter. "Good boys don't come. Good boys stay hard and needy, and, and, and don't come..." He couldn't help it, he sank back into her, thrust a few times, and then pulled out again with a ragged gasp. The edge wracked his body with a shiver.
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Bringing a hand up to his hair, Hope stroked it as she echoed what he was saying, her words murmured against his ear as she held him tight still.
"Good boys don't come and you're a very, very good boy. Oh, Quentin--" She pressed a kiss to his head. "So good, you're so good. My good boy," she told him again, another kiss. "All mine."
She did not pull back or pull away or move in any way. More than anything, she wanted to be open for him, for the edging that he'd wanted.
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"Good boys don't come. Good boys edge and edge. Feels so good..."
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Holding tightly, she hummed when he said it again, then mouthed another kiss against his shoulder.
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"Wait," came her breathless order, pushing him back. "I just-- it's a lot for me, too. I'm gonna come right away if you do that and I just." She breathed deep and then nodded. "Okay."
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"No, no--" She took a deep breath, turning her head so she could look at him. "I just. I'm good. You're good, I'm ready."
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The way her thighs clenched against his head, Hope had to remember to loosen her grip so that he could breathe and to let go of his head so that he could back off just a little and every little thrust of her hips, fucking his face, she had to calm herself because, in the span of a few short weeks, he had become expert in how to lick her cunt. He knew every spot to tease, how to drive her over the edge, and how to ease her back into nearly there territory. How to make her whine for more, beg to come, and tell him that he was the best boy.
How to scream his name.
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"You're so good to me." She practically crooned the words, her fingers smoothing through his hair as she pushed her hips gently toward his mouth. "Such a good boy, not coming until I say it's okay. Making me come all over that pretty face."
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She moaned more praise - such a good boy, so fucking pretty, best fucking tongue, wanna feel that cock - for almost another minute before her climax hit and she shattered against his face.
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