"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.
He kept working on her through it -- repetition was the key to most women's orgasm, and he wouldn't dare fuck up his lady's groove -- and pulled away only when he was sure she'd ridden it out.
Quentin crawled back up, then, already kind of antsy for what he knew was coming next. He didn't go right for it, just kissing her first, running a hand down her side and over her hip.
The kisses were wet and sloppy and Hope knew what came next, too. Even though her body had had orgasms, it wasn't the same as having him inside her; it was a little addicting, listening to him coax himself to the edge, helping him do it, and then feeling him stop. She knew he liked it, loved it even, that feeling of not coming, but she also liked the way his cock felt inside her. As much as she said she didn't like edging for herself, she was part of it, too, when she let him tease her. This was something she liked.
"Good boys don't come," she reminded him tenderly, fingers stroking through his hair as she pulled back to look into his eyes. "Good boys stay hard and needy and don't come unless they're told they can."
Her saying the words to him so lovingly, so sweetly, made him feel drunk. He nodded, biting his lip as he shifted into place, then letting out a shaky moan as he pushed into her. "Oh, fuck, good boys don't come," he whimpered, slowly rocking against her.
"Such a good boy, aren't you," she said with a soft kiss, tasting herself again. "Good boys stay hard, so hard, so they can edge themselves and stay needy. Hard cocks that don't come," she murmured against his lips, legs locked around his thigh as she rocked up against him. She was so wet and so hot, just from his mouth that she couldn't stop the soft moan as he pressed into her. "My good boy."
Quentin edged and edged inside her, until he couldn't talk anymore, until he couldn't think, until there was nothing but her and the ache. He took longer breaks as needed, but eventually, as he pressed inside her again, he just whimpered and pulled back immediately.
"Can't," he managed to gasp into her shoulder, clutching her close and shaking. He'd been shivering for a bit, and it was only getting worse.
He nodded, keeping his arms around her and away from himself. He turned his head, giving his sweaty face some cool air. Once he was over the shivers a shower was definitely in order. "Fuck, it hurts," he whined softly. "Hurts so fucking good, my lady, thank you, thank you for..."
Quentin didn't know how to articulate anything this complex right now, really, so he fell back on something reliable. "Good boys don't come," he whispered. "Good boys don't come."
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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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Quentin crawled back up, then, already kind of antsy for what he knew was coming next. He didn't go right for it, just kissing her first, running a hand down her side and over her hip.
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"Good boys don't come," she reminded him tenderly, fingers stroking through his hair as she pulled back to look into his eyes. "Good boys stay hard and needy and don't come unless they're told they can."
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"Can't," he managed to gasp into her shoulder, clutching her close and shaking. He'd been shivering for a bit, and it was only getting worse.
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It's gentle and she presses her lips to his temple, then the top of his head. "Lay with me. Don't touch yourself."
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Quentin didn't know how to articulate anything this complex right now, really, so he fell back on something reliable. "Good boys don't come," he whispered. "Good boys don't come."