Chapter 93: In the night when nothing else mattered (M)
"Na—Natha!"
Was that my voice, pathetically whimpering in a mix of whine and moan? That high-pitch keen and loud gasping sound that I only imagined existed in porn?
I had no idea. I had no leeway to discern the obcenity of my state as I grasped his hair and panted against his face, as he nuzzled on my cheek with a smile on his exploring lips. He still held me tight, and oh so tenderly on my back, making sure my bent figure and wobbly hips didn’t topple down. But his other hand...oh, that effin’ hand!
His fingers kept on exploring my inside, massaging the walls and digging deeper, as if widening a tunnel. He did it slowly, persistently, making sure it was wet enough for him to move, and halted for a bit every time I whined that it stung.
And he would stop around that magical bundle of nerves sometimes, and brush. Just brushing softly before continuing his digging. And then he’d come back, pressing a bit harder, and get me to make those obscene sounds. But just when I felt it was too much, he’d let go of the pressure and go back on scissoring me diligently.
God—it was maddening!
I had no idea how long he’d been fingering me, how long I had been assaulted by the tingling sensation, and how many times I was left hanging on the edge. I already clung to him, my excitement hard and dripping against his sculpted abdomen.
What is this? Why?
It felt like he was rewarding me, and ended it with punishment. The drag of his fingers across my pulsing, narrow canal felt like a building anticipation, and the fleeting pressure against my spot felt like a sweet blessing. And yet, when it felt like I couldn’t take it anymore, and the tickling, pleasurable sensation was becoming too much, he stopped as if he knew about it.
It felt like mercy, and at the same time, a harsh curse.
The pleasure that coming and going interchangeably made my head feel muddy, and I couldn’t even decipher how deep had Natha gone with his fingers. I was slumped against him, forehead pressed on his shoulder as I squirmed on his fingers, squeezing them hard.