14
Maddie
The bulk of my consciousness was lost to me, only able to captain the rising tide of pleasure coursing through my body. First, my muscles from cunt to crown clenched and then the sensation began like a starburst, a ball of fire, radiating from my core, then a series of tiny spinning explosions. Everything unleashed at once, and my body was not mine. It was something ethereal, something floating among the stars.
Beneath me, Luke pounded his hips up and the pleasure coursed through me again, another fire, another explosion. It was like I couldn’t stop coming. I heard his sounds, deep and guttural, growling and groaning. I could feel him swelling inside me.
“I’m too close,” he called out. He tried to lift my hips to withdraw so that he didn’t spill his seed. I wasn’t going anywhere. I wanted all of him.
“Don’t,” I moaned, “I want you to come inside me.”
“Yeah?” he questioned, his eyes bright with excitement, his voice shaking with the need to release.
I nodded and he didn’t hesitate. He pulled my hips tight to his, thrust twice, and exploded. I felt it, the growing surge of his release, the pulse of his cock inside me, and then as if commanded by him, my starburst upgraded to the whole fucking sun and I was blind to everything but euphoria.
Shaking, I collapsed on his chest. I could hear his heart pounding and feel his sweat on my cheek. We were both out of breath, our panting heavy and hot. His hands found their way into my hair and he cradled my head to him.
With a loud sentiment but a quiet sound, he said, “I fucking love you.”
“Me too,” I said, barely coherent.
As if my love invigorated him with energy, he rolled us over so that I was on the living room rug, and he started play-growling and nipping at my skin, my belly, my breast, my shoulder. He was like a gentle beast, tickling me with his teeth. I giggled. Then he sat up, kneeling with one knee between my thighs and he hollered, “I LOVE MADDIE RICHARDS!” Then, he beat his chest like Tarzan.
I grinned. He looked so handsome, his hair had come loose and it shined like silk in the glow of the naked lightbulb. His lips were plump and pink, his eyes were shiny with joy. He was rolling in silly.
“I like post-coital Luke,” I said.
He pounded his chest again. “I feel like roaring.” He collapsed next to me and continued to talk. “Do you ever feel that way? Like you just have so much good inside you that you want to scream it out, share it with the world? Usually, after I orgasm, I just want to go to sleep, but right now, I want to build a fucking fort. Do you want to build a fort?”
“A pillow fort?” I asked.
“Yes. Let’s build one and move into it and never come out. I can just live on pussy juice.”
“What will I eat?” I asked, feigning innocence.
“Cookies.” As soon as the word was out of his mouth, he was moving. He was up and then he was lifting me, pulling me to his chest so that I had no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist.
I giggle-screamed, “What is happening right now?”
“WE NEED COOKIES.” He was yelling like we were trapped in a wind tunnel.
“And I can’t walk to the kitchen myself?” I asked, still laughing.
“Nope. You are never taking your legs from around my waist. Never again.” He was very matter-of-fact about this. He carried me to the pantry, and balancing me against the wall, he pulled a bag of Milanos out with one hand. After trying to find a way to hold me and the cookies for a second. He made a big show of his ah-ha moment and then held the bag in front of my mouth.
“Am I supposed to carry this with my teeth?” I asked. “Because I could use my hands.”
“No, teeth,” he confirmed. “This is my cookie expedition. I make the rules.” I grabbed the bag between my teeth and play-growled. At the sound, I felt his dick harden against me.
“Shh…” he whispered. Then he pointed to his penis, “He doesn’t know about the cookies.”
I smiled, letting the cookies drop and get wedged between our bodies, “I don’t mind sharing.”
“Bedroom, this time?”
I nodded, and we were on the move.
* * *
Later that night,my muscles weighed down by the work of multiple orgasms, I heard him get out of bed. Still groggy, I sat up.
“Are you okay?” I asked, watching him try to tiptoe through the darkness in the bedroom. He was still naked.
He turned back, “I didn’t want to wake you. You snore so pretty.”
I threw a pillow at him. He quickly shielded his junk with a move reminiscent of Saturday Night Fever. Once I stopped laughing, he said, “I want to put my drawings in the truck.” He dropped his voice to a whisper, “I’m worried about Mr. Wiggles.” He didn’t try to cover himself in any way. He was comfortable enough around me to let it all hang out, and that made my insides all bubbly.
I flopped back down, lying on my side, my head propped up with my elbow, “Valid, he could cuddle or kneed them to death.”
“I’m hoping he hasn’t already. But all things considered, if my greatest works are lost to the affections of the cat, it was so worth it.”
“Yeah, it was,” I boasted. I leaned across the bed and grabbed the unopened cookies from the night table. “We’ll be here when you get back. Also, you should probably put on pants.”
“Pants, schmants,” he said as he walked away.
Happy, I leaned back against my pillows and popped a cookie in my mouth.