Her hand around his organ hardly moved. It didn’t need to. Esin was pumping his hips into her sorry grip. Positioned as he was, it was mimicry of penetration—his thrusts angling the head of his cock to skim her mound and belly. Jerked by his movements, gaping at his screwed up face, there was little she could do but brace and hope it ended quickly.
“Take your hand.” He was straining, the veins in his neck popping against twitching muscle. “Grip the base of my cock and squeeze.”
What?
“Now! Do it now!”
A bulge was beginning to grow near the thatch of hair at his groin. Swelling, it distorted his shaft like a growing cancer.
“Gahhh!” He took matters into his own hand, forcing her fist down and squeezing their joined touch so tight her finger joints popped. Surging upright, his free hand began to milk his cock furiously until a fat glob of thick goop erupted to land on her stomach.
It was the first of many.
So much surged from the man it was mind boggling—breasts, stomach, chest, and thighs were coated to dripping.
And still Esin wasn’t done. Teeth clenched he hissed, “Don’t let go. DON’T LET GO!”
“You’re hurting my wrist…” The words were but a breath, Morgaine’s arm shaking in her attempt to dislodge herself from his grip.
What started out thick became a spray of warm rain. It lacked the pearly quality of the first abundant spillage, and dripped like water down her skin. With the burst came a roar from the man who glared down to watch his prize squirm in all he showered upon her.
“Open your mouth.”
No. Never.
“Just a taste, renegade.” He chided, teasing at her lips with his glans. “Drink up what I offer.”
Fiercely shaking her head, Morgaine went from trying to pull away to pushing against him.
Whatever that did to his knot made him keen, buck his hips and spray her with another volley of musky fluid, until it gummed in her lashes and matted her hair.
Esin kept her this way, stuck beneath him, for the entire duration that bulbous growth at the base of his angry, red cock persisted.
The breaks between his subsequent orgasms led to him kneading his knot and her fingers so hard she began to lose feeling. In that span, he spoke to her of how best to drain him. What a great job she had done for her first time milking a knot. But he also admonished her refusal to part her lips.
Had her jaw not been damaged, she was sure he would have forced her teeth apart and jammed that hideous thing down her throat.
Four more times, semen shot out as he groaned, arched, and spoke filth to the ceiling.
The final eruption was little more than a dribble of clear fluid that ran down their joined hands to trickle between them.
Setting her throbbing hand free with a filthy groan, Esin rubbed at the diminishing knot until his cock grew flaccid. With his flesh appeased, he fell back down upon her, laughing at her breathy attempt to squeal as he used his naked chest to rub his semen into her skin.
“Mine.” Over and over he muttered the lie. “All mine.”
She was not his.
She was more than a hand, or a body to taste.
She was greater than the nub of flesh between her legs he felt was so important.
And so she told herself, while rough hands slipped and slid over places that man’s come should have been allowed to pool.
“They will be so pleased with you, renegade. No Omega has ever made me jettison seven times.” Kissing her mouth so hard his teeth knocked hers, Esin cooed. “Seven… you dirty girl. And look at you: perfect with my come flavoring your lips.”
Pulling back enough she might draw a desperate breath, Esin teased, “Perfectly disobedient, I should say. I told you to open your mouth and you refused…”
Pressing her lips tight, Morgaine looked away.