Novel Full Chapter 889: Her Home... Her Heart(r-18)
Chapter 889: Her Home... Her Heart(r-18)
The motion was almost hypnotic: forward and up, then a slow roll back and down, letting her feel every pulsing vein, every subtle shift of girth as he flexed deliberately inside her.
He flexed again—thickening even more for a heartbeat—making her walls flutter and stretch around the sudden swell before easing off, only to repeat the flex on the next lazy circle.
Sarah gasped—soft, shattered—her fingers digging into his shoulders as the deep, rolling pressure lit up every oversensitive nerve. The lingering ache from her first stretch had melted into something hotter, heavier: a slow-building, liquid fire that coiled low in her belly with every grind.
Her pussy clenched greedily around him—trying to hold the thickness exactly where it pressed hardest—slick pouring out in warm, slippery pulses that coated his shaft and dripped down his heavy balls with every slow rotation.
"That’s it... feel me moving inside you," he murmured against her throat, voice low and rough with restraint. His mouth found her pulse—open, wet kisses trailing up the side of her neck, then down to the hollow of her throat.
He sucked gently—then harder—leaving faint red blooms she’d feel tomorrow while his tongue soothed the sting.
He lifted his head to meet her eyes—dark gaze locked on hers, full of fierce tenderness and unshakable love. "I love you, sister." he whispered, the words raw against her skin.
With that quiet vow, the circles gradually deepened into longer, slower thrusts—pulling back halfway, then gliding back in with measured, loving force, bottoming out each time with a gentle but unyielding press against her cervix.
Every deep stroke was laced with care: his hands cradling her face, his lips brushing hers between breaths, his voice murmuring constant praise—"So beautiful... so perfect... my heart"—even as the rhythm grew more claiming, more possessive.
She clung tighter, legs locked around him, nails scoring faint lines down his back, whispering broken "I love you"s between moans as he filled her again and again—deep, slow, devastatingly tender thrusts that spoke of forever in every careful movement.
They moved as one—love and lust entwined, unbreakable, endless.
He remained nestled just inside her—only the thick head and a few generous inches buried—letting her fluttering entrance adjust to the impossible stretch without demanding more than she could give.
Then, with the gentlest rock of his hips, no deep plunges. No retreat. Just slow, deliberate ovals traced inside her narrow channel: a languid sweep to one side, then the other, the flared crown dragging in heavy, velvet arcs along her sensitive inner walls.
Each rotation painted a new path—forward and slightly up, then drifting left, then down and right—stirring the veined length in lazy, hypnotic loops that kept constant contact without ever seeking deeper territory her body wasn’t ready to yield.
Sarah’s breath caught in soft, fractured gasps. The motion was maddeningly precise: every slow circle let her feel the thick ridge catch and glide over that swollen front patch, rubbing it with unhurried pressure, then sliding away only to return on the next revolution.
Her walls quivered in helpless answer—clenching around the partial intrusion, trying to grip the shifting girth as it revolved inside her limited space.
Slick welled up steadily, easing the drag, dripping warm and slippery down the exposed length of his shaft that remained outside her.
He braced himself above her, forearms caging her gently, eyes locked on hers with quiet intensity. "Look at me, love," he murmured, voice low and thick with adoration. "Feel how careful I’m being... how every circle is just for you."
He pulsed deliberately—thickening the buried inches for a single heartbeat—making her entrance flutter and stretch around the sudden swell before he eased back.
The brief flare drew a high, trembling whimper from her throat; fresh heat spilled out to coat him.
One hand slid to her hip, steadying her as he tilted the angle just enough that the next slow oval pressed the underside of his crown more firmly against that sensitive ridge inside. The other hand cupped her breast—palm warm, thumb tracing idle spirals around her nipple that mirrored the rhythm between her thighs.
"You’re so beautiful when you tremble like this," he whispered against her lips, kissing her softly between words. "So open... so wet... letting me tease you exactly how you need."
Another full circle—slower this time, lingering where the pressure felt best—then a subtle reversal of direction that made her gasp sharper.
Her clit throbbed against the occasional graze of his lower shaft; the friction was light but relentless, building in lazy waves with every rotation. Her thighs shook around his waist, heels pressing weakly into his thighs as if to anchor herself against the slow, liquid burn coiling tighter in her belly.
He flexed again—mid-circle, deliberate—widening just enough to make her walls spasm hard in greedy protest.
"That’s it, sweet girl," he praised, lips brushing her earlobe. "Squeezing me so perfectly... you love these little circles, don’t you? Love feeling me move inside you without rushing." His tongue soothed the shell of her ear while his thumb rolled her nipple in matching lazy loops.
Her moans turned soft and continuous—breathless, pleading little sounds that rose with each teasing revolution.
The pleasure built differently this way: not in sharp peaks, but in a slow, syrupy swell that spread from her core outward until her fingers tangled in his hair and her hips began to rock in tiny, instinctive counter-circles, chasing the next glide of his crown.
When the wave finally crested, it was long and shattering in its quiet intensity. Her pussy clamped down in rolling, powerful pulses—milking the inches he allowed her with desperate, fluttering contractions.
Slick flooded out in hot, slippery surges, soaking the base of his cock and trickling down her thighs.
She cried out—soft, broken, almost surprised—body arching as the orgasm stretched out, prolonged by his never-ceasing, worshipful circles.
He groaned low against her throat—reverent, strained—but kept the rhythm glacial, riding every tremor with her, never pushing for more depth than she could take.
"Come for me just like this," he rasped, pride and love thickening his voice. "So perfect... so completely mine."
The permission, the steady circles, the gentle pinch of his fingers on her nipple, the deep internal grind—it all converged. Pleasure rose like a slow, inexorable tide—no sharp crest, just a long, rolling swell that lifted her higher and higher until she shattered in quiet, devastating waves.
Her pussy locked down in powerful, languorous pulses—milking him in long, rolling contractions that matched the circles he never stopped making. Slick poured out in hot, slippery surges, soaking his balls, the crease of her thighs, the sheets beneath.
Her whole body trembled—soft, helpless shivers—as the orgasm stretched out, drawn long and liquid by his unrelenting, worshipful motion.
He groaned low in his chest—reverent, almost pained with how good she felt—but his hips never faltered. He rode every tremor with her, circles slowing to tiny, soothing swirls that prolonged the aftershocks without overwhelming her.
When she finally sagged, boneless and glowing, he pressed his forehead to hers, breathing her in. "You’re everything," he whispered, voice thick with love. "My heart... my home."
She managed a tiny, trembling smile—eyes glassy, lips swollen—and clenched softly around him again, already greedy for the next slow revolution.