Chapter 448: Not A Friend Thing

Stan groaned like he’d been hit.

"Mia, fuck."

She did it again.

Down with her mouth. Squeeze with her chest. The plush heat of her breasts stroking what her throat couldn’t take, then the sudden tight wet clutch when she forced herself onto him. She held there, swallowing, humming, looking up through wet lashes to watch his face come apart.

’If I do both he’ll feel it everywhere. If I do both he’ll know I want all of it.’

"That’s, damn." His hands covered hers on the outside of her breasts, helping her keep the pressure while she sucked. "Keep them tight. When you come up, stroke me with them. When you go down, take what you can. Don’t hurt yourself."

She followed. Up: a filthy slide of soft flesh along his wet cock, tongue flicking the head as it emerged. Down: lips stretching, throat working, nose almost in the valley of her own cleavage. Gag. Recover. Suck the tip like a lollipop. Then sink again, deeper than she thought she could from that position, tears at the corners of her eyes and a proud little sound in her chest when he swore.

The feeling stacked until it was obscene. Her tits were hot silk around the base and middle. Her mouth was tighter, wetter, clumsier, taking the head and more, spit pouring down to make the breast-slide filthy. Every time she gagged her throat squeezed him and her hands clenched, which made her breasts squeeze him too.

"Look at you," Stan got out, voice wrecked. "Trying to deepthroat me with my dick still between your tits. You were worried I only loved you as a friend. Mia. Friends don’t do this."

She moaned around him. The vibration ran down into the squeeze of her cleavage. His hips jerked.

"I’m close. You keep swallowing around me like that I’m done."

Mia didn’t pull off to answer. She sank, took him as far as the angle allowed, and stroked the rest with her breasts in short, desperate pumps, sucking hard on what filled her mouth. Eye contact. Wet. Determined.

Stan’s control went.

He came with a broken sound, cock kicking between her tits and against her tongue at the same time. Heat flooded her mouth in pulses; what she couldn’t swallow spilled down over the head and into her cleavage, painting the soft inner slopes of her breasts as she kept stroking him through it, kept sucking, kept looking at him like she needed to see every second.

’That’s me. That’s because I put him here. In my mouth. In my chest.’

He held her there through the last twitches, gentle now, one hand in her hair, the other still helping her keep her breasts wrapped around him while he finished. When it got too sensitive he hissed and eased her back.

Mia came off him gasping. Lips swollen. Chin wet. His release shining between her breasts in the amber light, dripping along the heavy curve of her. She was still holding herself around him like she wasn’t sure the job was over.

Stan stared at the mess he’d made of her and laughed once, wrecked and fond.

"Come here."

She crawled up. He kissed her messy, tasting himself, both hands filling with her slick breasts, thumbs smearing what he’d left there.

"You tried to take it all while you were still fucking me with these," he murmured against her mouth. "You’re insane."

Mia hid her face in his neck, embarrassed and glowing.

"You said after this you wouldn’t make me wait."

Stan’s cock, spent and still half interested, twitched against her thigh. He squeezed her.

"I won’t."

....

He kissed her. His hands stayed on her breasts, but the groping turned into stroking, thumbs wiping what he’d spilled, then just holding the weight of her because he could.

Mia was still dripping. Still empty. The need that had been sitting in her since she climbed onto the bed hadn’t gone anywhere; it had only gotten louder while she was busy pleasing him.

Stan felt it when she shifted against his thigh, the wet heat of her, the small restless roll she couldn’t quite hide.

"Hey." He tipped her chin up. "You still with me?"

She nodded. The nod was shy and hungry at the same time.

"I meant it," he said. "I’m not making you wait. But we do this slow. You’ve never."

"I know." Her ears went hot. "I want to. I just... I don’t know how to be good at it yet."

"You don’t have to be good at it." He kissed the corner of her mouth. "You just have to tell me if it hurts. Or if you want to stop. That’s the whole job."

He rolled them so she was on her back in the amber light, her hair on his pillow, her body laid out the way he had only felt in pieces until now. He took a second to look, waist, the heavy swell of her breasts still shiny, the full line of hip and thigh, the place between her legs that was soaked through what was left of her shorts.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband.

"This too."

Mia lifted her hips. He drew the shorts down her legs and tossed them aside. Bare, she almost covered herself. His hand caught hers and kissed her knuckles instead.

"Don’t hide. I’ve had my mouth on you. I’ve had my fingers in you. Let me see."

She let him look. The flush went all the way down her chest.

Stan settled between her thighs but didn’t push in. He kissed her sternum, then each breast again, gentler, then the soft skin under them, then her stomach. When his mouth got close to where she was wettest she twitched.

"Not yet," he murmured. "I just want you easy."

His fingers found her first, the way they had before, slow circles, then one finger, then two when she opened for him, curling until her breath snagged. She was tight. Hot. Slick enough that the slide was easy even if the stretch still made her bite her lip.

"That’s it. Just like that. You’re doing fine."

Mia’s hands were in his hair and on his shoulder, holding on. ’This is happening. He’s going to be inside me. Not a dream. Not a grind. Him.’

He worked her until the nervous tightness in her thighs loosened, until she was rocking onto his fingers instead of bracing against them. Only then did he take his hand away, slick it over himself, and shift closer.

The head of him kissed her entrance and stayed there.