Heart In A Cage

45

Andreas

I don't come out and impel again.

The way her mouth is agape, breaths stuttering as I'm left in her to the hilt, eyebrows raised with focus pointed down at where our bodies unite calls for just a little more than a few seconds dedicated to admiring her.

Her chest bobs, and I grip her thighs, rub the skin with a thumb, sooth away the memories of him.

Dumping those memories of the months prior to meeting her into a blackened place of my heart, recollecting that she'd been holed up in a miserable house—it'd bottled me up with frustration and rage and pity. Too long it took for me to pop open the cap and let it all out. Too long it took for me to discover that she knew I'd pursued her.

In reaching close to 6:00am, sunshine is beginning to unfurl over the earth and shaft through the open column between the drapes, a sign that work is coming in a few hours and that I should pull out, progress with what's going to be a long, unforgettable night with my tasty lady.

My attention doesn't divert from her as I slide out. I lose connection to reality, engulfed by the pretty eyes I can never look away from, smooth skin that always seems to have undergone some kind of polish, pink lips which I so badly want to kiss—all of it mine.

It's when she starts squinting and squirming does my awareness return. She's growing impatient.

So again, I thrust into her, come out with that same steady pace as I listen to her moans like a harmony, secure her long legs in my hold, and try not to lose control and begin ramming into her mercilessly. I want to take this nice and easy, convey the way I feel for her through serving her body, acting for it by good graces, honouring it like it's a heaven.

"I'm so tired, Andy." Such a sweet voice. A sweet, weary voice.

I propel myself again, making sure I come out slowly, watching as she hums with the action.

"I know, baby. Close your eyes. Rest. You don't need to do anything. This is for you." I run my palms up and down her thighs, comforting her as I thrust. I go deep, take seconds on seconds with every effort, relax in the view of her lightly lurching forward each time.

She's listened. Her eyes are closed, arms not as tense, breaths less abnormal. Peaceful. She's gifted me with her trust, given her body to me because she knows I'll care for it like it's my own, even while her lids are shut, wrists bound, while she's all bare.

"Are you cold?" I'm pressing myself into her, listening to the small, angelic moans bless the calming air around us. Her head is falling off the pillow, tilting. I reach forward, take the side of her face, and move her towards the pillow's centre.

Her cheek slumps against it immediately. But she's awake, because as I continue, those same thrumming noises sound from inside her throat, behind sealed lips. Goosebumps are on her stomach, along her spindly arms, would probably be on her newly inked chest if not for the plastic wrapping. I see them over the wisp of light in the room. I pull down her tank top, bring myself forward and over her, and cast the blanket over us.

My arms are caging her, and in this position, with my torso over her own, face mere centimetres away from her lips, I can slide in deeper, harder. Though keeping slow. Making sure her orgasm is contained, crackling within her but staying put until I think it's time to emerge.

My own is beginning to bubble. I'm groaning lightly, my cock wrapped in warmth and guided easily with the wetness surrounding it. Welcomed in, that's what I am, and it's letting me know that I'm taking her to the edge and having thrilling sensations crowd between my legs. I lower myself and peck her nose.