Chapter 55: [56]: Post-Summit RSVP, The Balcony Floor
Chapter 55: [56]: Post-Summit RSVP, The Balcony Floor
Elena pulled him inside from the balcony by his belt. The cold autumn air still clung to his skin. Her mouth found his, hot and desperate, tasting like wine and possession.
"Bed," he managed.
"No." She shoved him. Hard. He stumbled backward, hit the living room floor. "Here. Now. On the floor. I don’t want comfortable. I want real."
She was on him before he could respond. Straddling his hips, grinding against the bulge in his jeans. Her black dress rode up to her waist. Nothing underneath. She’d been bare under that dress all evening, during dinner, during the toast, during the fucking invitation.
"Wait." He grabbed her hips. "I want something."
She paused. Steel-gray eyes narrowing. "What?"
"Your tits. I want to fuck your tits."
Her breath caught. A flicker of something crossed her face. Not anger. Calculation. "Where did that come from?"
Yuki. Yuki did it for me. Her small hands pushing her 34Ds together while I thrust between them. The way she looked up at me with those dark eyes, mouth open, tongue out, catching the tip on every stroke.
"I just want it. You. Like that."
She studied him. Reading him like a contract. She always knew when he was thinking about another woman. Always.
"Yuki did this for you." Not a question.
"Elena..."
"She did." Elena sat back on his thighs. Her hands went to the neckline of her dress. Pulled it down. Her heavy 36DD tits spilled free, pale and massive in the dim light. Thick nipples already hard. Soft enough to spill through his fingers. "Fine. You want my tits? Fuck them. But you’re thinking about me when you do it. Not her. Me."
She shifted. Pressed her chest against his crotch. Reached down and unzipped his jeans. Freed his cock, already rigid, leaking precum onto his stomach.
She spat into her cleavage. Then pressed her tits together around his shaft.
Fuck. FUCK. They’re so much bigger than Yuki’s. Softer. The weight of them engulfing my cock like nothing else.
He groaned. His hips bucked upward on their own. The sensation was incredible. Hot. Wet. Soft. Her tits wrapped around him like warm silk, her spit and his precum mixing into slick friction.
Elena watched his face. Those gray eyes locked on his. She squeezed harder. Pushed her tits together until the flesh bulged between her fingers.
"You like that?" Her voice was low. Controlled. The Ice Queen giving him exactly what he wanted on her terms. "You like fucking my tits?"
"Yes. God, yes."
"Better than hers?"
Don’t answer that. Don’t answer that.
"Answer me."
"Yours are bigger."
"They are." She squeezed tighter. Thrust her chest up and down, working his cock between her tits. The head emerged from her cleavage on every upstroke, purple and slick, disappearing back into that warm tunnel of flesh. "Bigger. Softer. Better. Say it."
"Better. Yours are better."
She lowered her head. On the next upstroke, her tongue darted out. Licked the tip. He jerked.
"Elena..."
"Shut up and fuck my tits. That’s what you wanted. So take it."
He did. His hands found her shoulders. He braced himself and thrust upward, hips pistoning, cock sliding through the channel of her cleavage. The friction was maddening. Her skin was impossibly soft against his shaft, the weight of her breasts pressing from both sides, her chin tilted down so she could watch his cock disappear and reappear.
She’s looking at it. Watching it slide between her tits. Her mouth is open. She’s breathing hard. She likes this. She LIKES this.
"You’re dripping," she murmured. "All over my chest. You’re making a mess of me."
"You started it."
"I’m finishing it too." She squeezed one final time, then pulled back. His cock slipped free, bouncing against his stomach, angry and red and desperate.
She stood over him. He was flat on his back on the hardwood, cock jutting straight up, slick from the titjob, still twitching. The angle was insane. Looking up at Elena Vance from floor level, her body backlit by candlelight from the dinner table.
She reached for the dress bunched around her waist. Pulled it over her head. Tossed it.
Naked. Forty-two years old. Looking down at him from above like this, everything hit different. The undercurve of her heavy tits, 36DD, thick nipples still wet from spit and precum, hanging with gravity in a way that made his mouth water. The soft pooch of her belly from this angle, the silver stretch marks on her hips catching light. The patch of platinum hair between her legs, trimmed short, already matted with arousal.
From down here she looks like a fucking goddess. A mean one. The kind that breaks you and makes you thank her.
She stepped one foot on either side of his hips. Squatted. Her thick thighs spread wide, knees bending, pussy open and glistening directly above his cock. She reached down. Grabbed him. Wrapping her fingers around his shaft, pointing him straight up at her entrance.
"Watch," she said.
He watched. The head of his cock touched her pussy lips. She rubbed him against her slit, coating the tip in her wetness, dragging him through her folds until he was positioned right at her hole. Then she sank.
Slow. Inch by inch. Her hand guiding him in, her pussy swallowing him, tight and hot and so wet it was obscene. She let go of his shaft once he was halfway inside and braced both hands on his chest. Then she dropped her weight.
"Fuck."
"Fuck."
Simultaneous. Her ass hit his thighs. Full depth. His cock buried to the hilt inside her, her pussy clenching around him like a fist. From this angle he could see everything. His cock disappearing into her, the stretch of her lips around his shaft, the slight gap between their bodies where her soft belly met his hard stomach.
She started riding.
Not bouncing. Grinding. Her hips rolling in tight circles, cunt working his cock in corkscrew motions. Her tits swayed with every movement, heavy and real, nipples dragging across his chest when she leaned forward.
She’s not fucking me. She’s USING me. My cock is a toy and she’s playing with it exactly how she wants.
Her hands pressed flat on his chest. Nails digging in slightly. Her eyes were closed. Bottom lip between her teeth. That concentration face she made when she was chasing it.
"Play with my tits."
He grabbed them. Both hands. They overflowed his fingers, soft and heavy, spilling out of his grip. He squeezed. Pinched her nipples. She moaned and ground harder.
"Yes. Like that. Don’t stop."
He didn’t. He held her tits and she rode him and the wet sounds of her pussy on his cock filled the apartment. Schlick. Schlick. Schlick. Obscene. Loud. Her juice was running down his balls, pooling on the hardwood beneath his ass.
She was close. He could tell. Her thighs started trembling. Her grinding got faster, less controlled, more desperate. Her breathing went ragged.
"Lucas. Lucas. Right there. Right fucking THERE."
She came.
Her whole body seized. Back arching, tits heaving, pussy clamping down on his cock so hard he saw stars. She threw her head back and made a sound that wasn’t a word. Just raw noise. Her hips bucked erratically, riding out the orgasm on his cock, juice gushing around his shaft and dripping onto the floor.
He didn’t cum.
She collapsed forward onto his chest. Tits mashed against him. Breathing hard. His cock still inside her, still hard, still buried to the hilt. She could feel him. Still rigid. Still ready.
"You didn’t finish." Breathless. Surprised.
"No."
"I’ve been... exercising. Working on endurance."
"Exercising." She stared at him. Then clenched her pussy around his still-hard cock. "Well. Your exercise is going to finish what it started. Flip me over."
He grabbed her hips. Rolled. Pinned her to the hardwood. Her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his ass.
"Now fuck me until you cum," she whispered. "You’ve earned it."
He pulled out. Grabbed her hips. Flipped her onto her back on the hardwood. She went easy, limbs loose, still trembling from her orgasm. Her platinum hair fanned across the floor. Gray eyes glazed. Mouth open. Tits splayed to either side of her chest, heavy and real, heaving with each breath.
He settled between her thighs. The head of his cock found her entrance, still dripping, still gaping from the ride. He pushed in.
She gasped. Oversensitive. Every nerve still firing from her orgasm. Her pussy clenched around him involuntarily, gripping his shaft as he sank to the hilt.
"Fuck, you’re deep like this."
He started thrusting. Hard. Fast. No buildup. The floor groaned beneath them. Her back scraped against the hardwood with every impact but she didn’t care. Her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his ass, pulling him deeper on every stroke.
Her tits bounced. Wild. Unrestrained. Heavy 36DDs slapping against her chest on every downstroke, rippling with the force of his thrusts. He grabbed one. Squeezed. Felt it overflow his hand. Pinched the nipple. She hissed.
"Yes. Harder."
He gave her harder. Braced his hands on either side of her head and drove straight down into her. The angle shifted. Deeper. His cock hitting her cervix on every thrust. She winced, then moaned, then pushed her hips up to meet him.
She likes the pain. The edge of it. Too deep but not quite. That line between pleasure and "oh god that’s too much" that she keeps crossing on purpose.
The wet sounds were obscene. Schlick schlick schlick. Her pussy squelching around his cock, juice running down to her asshole, pooling on the floor beneath them. The slap of skin on skin echoing off the kitchen walls.
"I can feel you getting close," she breathed. "Your cock’s getting bigger."
She was right. He could feel it himself. That thickening, that pressure building at the base of his spine. His thrusts got erratic. Faster. Sloppier. Chasing it.
"Fill me. Inside. Now."
He buried himself to the hilt and let go. Cum pumping deep into her cunt, thick rope after rope, his cock throbbing with each spurt. She felt the heat flooding her and came again. Smaller. Tighter. Her pussy milking him through it, clenching and releasing in rhythmic waves, squeezing every last drop out of his cock.
He collapsed on top of her. Full weight. His chest mashing her tits flat. His cock still inside, twitching, softening. Cum leaking out around it, pooling beneath her ass on cold hardwood.
"Don’t pull out yet," she murmured. "Stay."
He stayed. Face in her neck. Breathing her in. Lavender and vanilla and sex.
"The floor was a good call," he said.
"My back is going to hate me tomorrow."
Persephone appeared at the edge of the room, judged them both, and left.
Elena curled against his side. Tits pressed against his ribs. Breath warm on his neck. His cum still inside her, slowly leaking out onto the floor neither of them cared about cleaning.