Chapter 161: Prominent Sex II R18+

She didn’t give him time to recover.

Her hand closed around his wrist and pulled. A sharp, insistent tug that meant now, and Xavier let himself be dragged back over her. His knees landed on either side of her hips. His cock, still slick and tender, brushed the inside of her thigh, and the contact made his whole body flinch with overstimulated nerve endings. He was still catching his breath. She didn’t care.

Amira’s legs hooked around his waist and rolled them both, a manoeuvre so quick and sure that Xavier found himself on his back before his brain caught up. The ceiling spun. Then she was above him, and the view was considerably better.

She straddled his chest first, facing him, her wet pussy dragging across his sternum as she crawled forward on her knees. His hands came up automatically — one to her hip, the other finding her breast, but she caught his wrist and pinned it back to the mattress beside his head.

“No,” she said. “Stay.”

His cock twitched against her thigh. Something in his face must have given him away, because Amira smiled — that slow, deliberate smile she saved for moments like this. She leaned down, her hair brushing his chest, and kissed him once. Soft. Almost sweet. Then her weight lifted, and she turned.

Her ass settled over his hips. Her back curved. Her spine became a long S of pale skin and shadow in the dim lamplight, and her hair fell down her back in a dark mess she gathered up with both hands and twisted into a knot at the base of her neck.

Xavier lay under her, cock hard and resting fat against his own belly, and watched her.

She reached behind, between her legs, and wrapped her fingers around him. The angle was awkward and she didn’t care. She stroked him once, twice, slicking her palm with the mess still clinging to him, and then she lifted her hips and pressed the head of his cock against her entrance.

The heat of her made his eyes roll back.

She didn’t drop. She took him an inch at a time, sinking slowly, her cunt slick and swollen from her earlier orgasm — gripping him every millimetre. Xavier’s fists closed around the sheets. His hips tried to jerk up and she put a hand flat on his thigh, pressing him down.

“Patience,” she said, over her shoulder. Her voice was thick.

Another inch. Then another. He watched his cock disappear into her, watched her back arch as he filled her, watched the way her shoulders dropped forward when he bottomed out. She was so wet it was audible — a soft, slick sound every time she shifted her weight.

Then she started to move.

Slow. Deliberate. A grind rather than a bounce, her hips rolling forward and back, pressing her clit forward onto his pubic bone on the downstroke, then dragging back along his shaft on the return. It was circular, almost lazy. She could keep this up for an hour.

Xavier grabbed her hips with both hands. Now the view was perfect.

Her ass lifted and dropped in front of him, round and warm, the skin still holding the faint pink tinge from where the sheets had pressed into her thigh. On her next roll forward, he lifted his right hand and brought it down.

The crack echoed off the bedroom walls.

Amira’s whole body jolted. Her cunt clenched around him hard. A sharp gasp pulled through her teeth, and her rhythm broke for half a second. She caught herself with one hand on the mattress, held the position, and then rolled her hips again. Harder this time.

“Do it again,” she said.

He did.

Left cheek this time. The impact painted a red bloom across her skin, and she hissed through her teeth and pushed her ass back toward him — a small, animal gesture that had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with hunger. Xavier watched the mark fade from white to pink to that deeper sting, watched her cunt take him in and out, in and out, and felt something come loose in his chest.

“Fuck, Amira.”

She laughed — low, breathy. It broke into a moan when he spanked her again, then again, alternating sides, the rhythm of his palm falling into sync with the grind of her hips. Every hit sent a fresh clench through her, and every clench dragged him closer. The two of them found a beat together: smack, roll, clench. Smack, roll, clench.

Sweat gathered at the base of her spine. A single droplet slid down between her shoulder blades and disappeared into the crease of her back.

She changed the angle. Lifted her hips a little higher and started to ride him properly. Not grinding any more but pumping, short fast strokes that let him feel the full length of every thrust. Her ass bounced in his lap with each drop. His hand fell on it in time.

“Harder,” she said. Not angry. Not demanding. Just stating the fact of what she needed.

Xavier obliged.

There was a rhythm now, and neither of them was in charge of it. His palm landed. Her cunt clenched. Her hips rolled. His cock throbbed. Sound filled the room — skin hitting skin, her breathing through her nose, the wet noise of him moving inside her. The bedframe complained against the wall with a steady knock, knock, knock.

His free hand skated up her back, over the damp curve of her waist, and found her hair. He gathered the loose strands at the back of her neck and pulled, just enough.

Amira’s spine curved. Her head tipped back. A long, satisfied moan unspooled from her throat and hung in the air like smoke.

“Don’t stop,” she said.

He wasn’t going to.

Her breathing turned ragged. The rhythm of her hips started to stutter, and he felt it, the flutter deep inside her, the way her whole body began to tighten around him. She was close. He was close. They were balanced on the same knife edge, and the next spank tipped them.

Her cunt clamped down. Heat flooded along his shaft. Amira made a sound that wasn’t quite a word — half a name, half nothing and her entire body locked, hips pressed to his, back arched so far he could count every vertebra.

Xavier came two strokes later, buried deep, hands welded to her hips.

The room went very quiet.

Amira’s arms gave out first. She folded forward onto the mattress beside him, cheek on the pillow, one hand still draped across his chest. His cum was sliding down her inner thigh. Neither of them moved to wipe it.

“That,” she said, after a while, “was what I needed.”

Xavier stared at the ceiling. His hand found hers and held it.

“Good,” he said.

She turned her head and looked at him — flushed, bright-eyed, her hair wrecked and her mouth still open from breathing and grinned.

“Now,” she said, “I want to hear why you didn’t call.”