Chapter 74| Playing With Elena II R18+

Chapter 74: Chapter 74| Playing With Elena II R18+

Elena reached down, dragging her nails lightly up Damian’s thighs as she lifted herself off him. The sudden absence made him gasp, his cock slick and aching, hovering uselessly in the cool air.

"Don’t move," she said, voice like honey poured over gravel.

She swung her leg over him, turning. It happened fast. The shift of her hips, the hem of her skirt flaring just enough to give him a glimpse of her before she settled into reverse. Her back to his chest. Her hair falling dark between her shoulder blades.

Then she sank down again.

The angle was different. Deeper, somehow. Damian’s hands flew to the sheets as she seated herself fully, his cock swallowed to the root in wet, gripping heat. He could feel everything the clench of her walls, the slight roll of her hips as she adjusted, the weight of her against his pelvis.

"Oh, fuck," he breathed.

She didn’t answer with words. Just started to move.

It was slow at first, a deep, grinding circle. Her ass rose and fell with deliberate precision, and Damian watched it, mesmerized. The soft flesh bounced with each descent, the fabric of her skirt riding higher until it was nothing but a bunched band around her waist. Her skin gleamed with a light sheen of sweat. He could see her asshole from this position.

She planted her hands on his knees, arching her back, changing the angle again. The new position pressed him against something inside her that made her moan low and broken.

"There," she gasped. "Right there."

Damian’s jaw went slack. He wanted to touch her...God, he wanted to grab her hips and drive up into her, but her order held him in place like a physical restraint. His fingers twisted in the sheets. His hips twitched involuntarily.

"No," she said sharply. "You stay still. You just watch."

He watched.

The curve of her spine. The flare of her hips. The way her ass jiggled when she dropped down harder, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the small room. The wet, obscene sounds of her taking him over and over again.

"Look at you," he managed, voice ragged. "Fucking insane."

She laughed, but it turned into a moan halfway through. She lifted almost all the way off, just the head of his cock inside her, then slammed back down. Damian saw stars.

His whole body arched, back lifting off the mattress. "Elena..."

"Not yet." Her voice was harsh with effort, with pleasure. "Not until I say."

She rode him faster. The slow grind became a rhythm, then a pace. Her thighs worked, the muscles bunched and flexed as she bounced on his cock. Each drop sent a violent shudder through him. He could feel his control eroding, sand through an open hand.

He tried to focus on her. Tried to memorize every detail, the slick sound of her sliding up and down, the flush spreading across the back of her neck, the way her fingers tightened on his knees whenever she hit the spot she was chasing.

"Do you feel it?" she asked. Her voice was thin, strained. "Do you feel how I’m gripping you?"

"Yes." The word came out desperate. "Fuck, yes."

"Good." She ground down, slow and cruel, rotating her hips in a tight circle. "Because I’m close, Damian. And you’re going to feel me come all over your cock."

The visual, the threat, the promise. Something in his brain short-circuited. His hips bucked up without his permission, driving himself deeper, and the noise she made was almost a sob.

"I said still." But she didn’t stop moving. If anything, she picked up speed. Her nails dug into his knees now, sharp points of pain that only sharpened the pleasure. Her body rose and fell, slammed and ground, her ass bouncing with a force that bordered on violent.

The skirt had given up entirely. It was just a strip of fabric caught around her waist, forgotten. From his angle, Damian could see the full rhythm of her body. The flex of her lower back, the perfect curve of her ass as it met his hips, the slickness coating his cock every time she lifted.

"Touch yourself." His voice surprised him.

Elena’s rhythm stuttered. She turned her head just enough that he could see one wild eye. "What?"

"Touch yourself." His chest heaved. "Let me watch."

For a moment, she just stared at him over her shoulder. Then her mouth curved into something vicious and satisfied. She reached down, fingers disappearing between her legs.

The sound she made when she found her clit. It would live in his head forever.

She circled herself with quick, practiced strokes while she rode him, the added stimulation making her walls flutter and clench around his cock. Her rhythm faltered, steadied, faltered again. Her thighs started to tremble.

"Damian," she moaned, and it was the first time she’d said his name like that. Raw, unguarded, needing. "I’m going to... oh, fuck, I’m going to come, I’m going to come on your cock, don’t you dare stop, don’t you dare move..."

She broke apart.

Her back arched so hard he thought she might snap. Her whole body seized, walls clamping down around him in pulsing waves. She cried out. No words, just a long, low moan that cracked at the edges. Her fingers moved frantically, drawing out every last tremor.

Damian watched. Felt. Let her ride him through her orgasm, her movements turning messy and desperate. She was still clenching, still shaking, her inner walls milking him as she collapsed forward, hands braced on the bed.

And then she lifted. Off him. The loss was unbearable. His cock twitched against his stomach, neglected and aching and so close he could feel his pulse in his teeth.

Elena turned. Slowly. Her face was flushed. Her lips were parted. Her chest heaved. The skirt was still around her waist, damp with sweat. She crawled up his body, pressing him back into the mattress.

"Your turn," she whispered against his mouth. "But you’re going to earn it."

She reached down and wrapped her hand around him. Still slick, still hard and began to stroke.

Slow.

Cruel.

Watching his face the whole time.