#SSceneC2015 : Kate Canterbary @kcanterbary vs Misa Buckley @MisaBuckley

I was halfway through blending the modified mudslides when Sam placed his hands on my hips, his palms circling over my clothes. There was a hot insistence in his touch, and he soon dipped beneath my dress and inside my leggings.

“Don’t move,” he ordered.

His body shifted, and he dropped to his knees behind me. True to his word, he peeled my leggings down, one aching inch at a time. His mouth moved over my exposed skin, kissing and licking, and when my clothes were bunched at my ankles, he pushed my legs apart. He drove his fingers inside me, stroking and thrumming my clit until I was bent over the countertop and begging.

And then Sam’s fingers were gone, abandoning me seconds before I came, and I was ready to scream.

Springing up, I rounded on him, my eyes as furious as I felt, and he just smiled. “That not go the way you wanted?”

“Rude!” I yelled. “Very rude!”

I was wet—not simply aroused—and I sensed my fluid coating my thighs. It was almost embarrassing, and I was somewhat convinced I’d find a puddle on the floor very soon.

“Maybe.” He grabbed a handful of my dress and yanked me against his chest. “You’ve had a rough night,” he said, and I nodded. “It’s going to get a little rougher.”

My default reaction to overwhelming situations was laughter, and when those words washed over me, I dissolved into giggles despite his dark, severe tone.

“Oh, Sunshine,” Sam hissed, slipping his fingers into my mouth. I tasted myself on him, and I wanted to be revolted but I was too fucking turned on to care. His eyes darkened as I sucked, his groan hoarse and exactly as desperate as I felt. “I am going to own you tonight.”

He pushed me against the refrigerator and freed me from my leggings and panties. Ducking under my dress, his tongue swirled over my clit and it only took a few well-placed licks to prime my body for explosion.

And once again, he stopped a minute too soon. Wailing, I beat my fists against the refrigerator. This was torture, and he knew it.

“Saaaaaaammm,” I moaned.

He offered a knowing grin and placed feathery kisses on my thighs and pelvic bone and just barely between my legs. “Do not doubt that I’ll gag you.”

“I’ll finish this myself,” I said, but the threat sounded whiny and petulant.

He chuckled, his warm breath tickling my leg, and he continued teasing. He didn’t believe me.

Unable to see past the screeching urge for release ringing through my body, I bunched my dress at my waist and brought my hand to my center. I’d barely grazed my clit when Sam’s hand curled around my wrist and pinned it to my side.

“Don’t you dare,” he said. He stood, leaning into me while I squirmed, angling for his hard length where I needed it. “I’ll make you come. Only me, and only when I’m ready.”

“You’re such a dick,” I yelled, burrowing into his shoulder.

“And you love it.” He dragged his scruffy chin across my chest, inflaming my nerves and drawing out a shiver that didn’t seem to stop. “How long should I make you wait?”

I shook my head, whimpering, “No more.”

“Should I fuck you right here?” Sam asked. He lifted my hands above my head and speared his hips against me, and the impact sent vibrations rippling through my body. “Or against the counter? Your ass looked fucking edible bent over like that.”

He traced the line of my arm, over my breast and belly, and brushed my folds. It was a delicate touch, like he was stroking something incomprehensibly fragile, and desire sparked in my veins until I was trembling.

It was an agonizing, throbbing need, but Sam didn’t stop. His body trapped me there, his chest flush with mine, his grip tight on my wrists, and I could feel the drumbeat of his heart pounding in time with mine. He whispered filthy things about how much he loved touching me and teasing me, and how he wanted my arousal dripping all over his wrist, and that my pussy belonged to him.

I hated hearing those words—my ladybits were my own, thank you—but I craved them, too. It was primal and animalistic, and if my hands were free, I would have closed my fist around his cock and said the exact same thing.

I took tremendous pride in belonging only to myself, but right now, with my body heaving in spectacularly painful need, I wanted to be Sam’s. He could claim my pussy, my orgasms, my everything.

“Do I need to restrain you?” he asked, and even the scrape of his teeth on my earlobe was too much stimulation.

“Sam,” I rasped. “Please.”

He released me, but I didn’t have long to miss the weight of his body. He led me into the bedroom, yanking the rest of my clothes off in the process. His were quick to follow, and then he was over me, his palm splayed between my breasts, pressing hard.

He pushed into me, slow and deliberate, and he kept me anchored in place while he stroked all the way in, his hips snug against mine, and then all the way out. I didn’t think it was possible for him to torture me any more than he had, but this—this was the most licentious torture imaginable.

Eventually, he shifted his hand down my body until the heel of his palm rested over my mound. When I edged up to meet his thrusts, that pressure sent hot, crackling snaps of electricity through me.

“Oh, fuck, Sam,” I cried, my shoulders digging into the mattress for more leverage.

“You want to come for me, sweetheart?” he asked, as if I’d been holding out on him. I made some hysterical, mewling sound and he smiled, nodding. His jaw locked, his strokes deepening, slamming into me as I arched my back.

I knew the minute he came because his face always took on the same expression of serene suffering, and he’d groan my name, low and gravelly, like a secret prayer. I let myself believe that moment belonged to me, that his body couldn’t possibly react that way to anyone else.

Just as I was pulled under by that warm, soothing orgasm, he ground his palm against me, and that wave morphed into a fucking tsunami. Every muscle twitched and sighed, the spasms rolling through me as if they’d never stop.

It was a relief to take my jeans off. I sighed as my hard-on sprung loose of its prison. Dropping my jeans, I kicked them off and rubbed my balls. They were slightly tender but that wasn’t going to impede my performance. Not when I wanted in Abigail so badly. Given the way she gazed at my dick, that want was mutual.

Pulling myself together to be serious a moment, I stood at the edge of the bed and gazed down at her. “You sure about this?”

She rolled her eyes. “What does it look like, Gabe?”

Her legs were wide open, her nipples hard and pink. It looked like every fantasy become reality, but I didn’t think that was a sensible confession to make.

“I need to hear you say it.”

I’d no idea where the sudden chivalry came from, but it could fuck right off again. Still, I waited for permission, my eyes on her face.

“I’m sure, Gabriel.” Her voice was velvet over iron, her gaze locked with mine. “Very, very sure.”

“Oh, thank fuck for that.”

Clambering onto the bed, I stretched out on top of her and claimed her mouth. I kissed her for a good while, dick hard as hell and throbbing a demand, but she was no one-night stand to just nail.

I didn’t want to simply fuck her, I wanted…I’d no idea. Something more. Something meaningful. I wanted—needed—to connect, to belong, to…love.

The thought startled me, but as I pulled back and looked into her eyes, I knew I couldn’t take it back. I couldn’t quite say it, though, either.  Given her smile, I decided she knew enough. I shifted my hips. Even through the latex of the condom, she was red hot. I groaned as I sank into a furnace, burying my dick deep within her tight walls.

“God, you feel good,” I murmured and kissed her. It involved a lot of tongue. When I broke for air, I gasped out, “You okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” she sighed. “More than. Hmm, Gabe, you fill me right up.”

“You’re so fucking tight. You feel amazing.”

Her eyes were dark with passion. “Fuck me. I want you to make me come.”

I grinned at her, having no difficultly whatsoever with that request. I slid out slowly and we moaned in unison. Then I slammed in and she made a soft “oof” sound that made me slam in a second time to hear it again. And again.

Abigail didn’t lie beneath me and just take. Her hands stroked my arms and back, her nails grazed my skin. She murmured dirty words I never expected to hear from her, voice husky with encouragement to take her harder, faster, to make her fucking scream.

I reached one hand down and bent her right knee up, did the same to the left. It opened her further, let me plunge in that bit deeper. She whimpered and grabbed a hold of my upper arms, eyes squeezed tight as she panted out my name.

“Gabe. Oh, God, Gabe.”

No man alive could hear the woman he cared for say his name like that and not come undone. I buried my face in the hollow of her neck, tasting the sweat on her skin with my tongue, and gripped her shoulders. Fucked her for all I was worth. I slammed in hard and fast. Her airy cries filled the cabin. I don’t know if the waves rocked the yacht or if I did. Didn’t care; I was fucking Abigail.

“Oh, my God,” I muttered as she tightened around me. “Fuck, Abby.”

Her back arched and she moaned. Right at the edge and I thrust her over it. She cried out, a yell I echoed as her climax triggered mine.

I came hard and hot, white light blurring my vision. My strength gutted and I dropped down, unable to brace my weight. She didn’t seem to care, her arms circled me and held me there. We struggled to even our breathing, hearts pounding against each other but out of time. I shifted slightly and realized I was still hard. And as I regained my senses, the desire edged back.

“Not enough,” I muttered and kissed her, pulling her into the haze of lust with me. “I need more.”

“Gabe, I—” She gulped and blinked rapidly. Taking in a shuddering breath, she met my eyes. “Take what you want. I’m yours, Gabe. I’m yours forever.”