Sunny - Mona Lisa Blossoming

"Put your arms around my neck," he growled roughly, his voice low and thick.

Biting my lip, I lifted my arms up above and behind me, wrapping them around his neck. I looked like a Christmas ornament dangling from his neck, and felt like one—on total display.

"Spread your legs."

Quivering, I jerkily obeyed, moving my feet wider apart, and trembled at what I saw in the mirror. I looked like a wanton stranger, naked and exposed while Amber stood large and powerful behind me, still wearing pants. Feet apart, arms lifted, my body was completely opened to him, to his body, his hands, his eyes. Shame twined with excitement, bedeviling, writhed like a living snake within me, making me shudder, making my small breasts swell even more, elongating my nipples, wetting my thighs with more rivulets of desire.

I could not bare to look at myself any longer. My eyes squeezed shut as I gasped in air.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart." Roughly tender, but still a command.

My eyes fluttered open.

"Watch me make you come," he whispered in a voice dark as midnight, coarse as gravel.

I almost exploded just hearing him say that. And then I did as one big callused finger touched me, found my swollen little pearl and stroked it. I lit up like a firecracker, spilling the room with light. Then I sparked and burst in air. I trembled and shuddered and cried as I exploded, and then cried again as I watched him sink that big finger back into me. Watched the long length disappear up into my body as I twitched and jerked. I watched him—and felt him—slide that fat finger in and out of me, pumping me, prolonging my orgasm, milking my release to its very last convulsive drop.

I collapsed against him, stunned, amazed that Amber was doing this. Playing me like this. So easily, so confidently, so masterfully. And he wasn't done.

He slid his broad finger, covered with my juice, out of my grasping sheath and sucked the wetness of my pleasure into his mouth, his brilliant eyes a yellow blaze. "You taste like passion," he said, and I quivered and almost came again.

"Amber." It was a plea, a hoarse demand.

He stepped back and I gently swayed, barely able to stand on my own. Carefully, he eased down the zipper of his pants and freed his erection. It sprang out heavy, thick and long, the engorged crown crimson with heated arousal, liquid excitement leaking from its tip.

It looked happy in its freedom, bobbing in eagerness as he kicked out of his pants.

"Kneel down," he rasped harshly.

My heart, only just slowing, kicked into high gear again as I sank down onto my knees.

He positioned me so that I was turned sideways to the mirror, so that I could watch both of us in profile. "Brace your hands in front of you."

My eyes glued to his in the mirror as I bent forward and braced myself on hands and knees before him like a supplicant, like a sacrifice, like prey he had chased and brought down. He stood behind me for a long, long moment, a towering figure, both of us breathing hard. Then he knelt behind me, and that part of him that would enter me was tall and upright, like a thick heavy pole jutting obliquely out from his body.

"Watch," he growled.

Just that one word and like a conditioned animal, my womb tightened, my sheath shivered, my nipples tingled, and all the muscles of my body clenched.

"Open wider."

"Oh, God." I bit back a whimper and spread my knees wider. Conversely, the opening of my legs made me feel more empty, more hollow inside.

"Keep your eyes open. Watch us." With jaw clenched, he guided himself to my dripping, shadowy cleft that was achingly, throbbingly hungry once again.

I felt him push against my dewy nether lips, and in the mirror, I saw him sink and push and grunt his way into me. Invading me. In and in. Another thick inch. Then another. Pull back, push in harder, with more force, fighting and pushing his way inside me despite my wetness.

He felt massive. I felt full, lodged, wonderfully crammed.

He halted halfway in.

"No," I cried, straining back against him. "Don't stop."

"What do you want?"

"All of you."

He continued his slow, deep plunge. I groaned and panted and pushed my hips back against him and gasped, "Yes… more… oh, God! Oh, God!.. Please, more…"

The light came like an exploding essence called out from our bodies, so blindingly bright that I had to squint my eyes to see. In the reflected glass, we looked like angels aglow. Doing a most unangelic thing.

One heavy grunting thrust with his hips and he pushed all the way in, nudging against my womb, and I went off again in a second glorious release, crying out, gasping, spasming around him, squeezing him so tight that he groaned. Feeling so weak and trembly that I collapsed onto my elbows, my cheek resting against the floor. When the waves of passion finally eased to lap in gentle swells against the shore of me, my lashes lifted once more and I saw his bright amber eyes watching me in the mirror, his face tight, his body tense, and I realized that he was still full and hard within me.

"Watch," he said hoarsely as he began to move.

I gasped, shook my head, and cried out, knowing what he wanted and knowing I could not take more. "No… no…" My body twitched and jerked, reacting beyond my control. I was too sensitive. It was too soon. Too much. I sobbed and jerked forward to dislodge him, to break free of his overwhelming fullness. He grabbed my hips, stopping my escape, pulling me back with surging force against him, sliding back in.

I shook my head wildly. "No, I can't." Tears trickled down my cheeks.

Amber's arm clamped diagonally across the center of my chest, lifting me up and back against him. The other hand gripped my hip in an unbreakable iron grip, keeping us together.

"Shhh," he crooned soothingly. "I won't move. Just let me stay inside you."

I calmed at his promise, didn't fight him, but couldn't stop trembling. My body was on overload, my swollen tissues quivering at the slightest movement. Even just the thick unmoving presence of him deep within me, stretching my screamingly sensitive nerve endings was only just barely tolerable. As long as he didn't move.

He held me like that, both of us on our knees, my back pressed tight against his chest, my bottom snugged tight in an unbreakable line against his groin as I knelt in the Vee of his spread knees. His thighs were like massive tree trunks surrounding me, his arm a heavy restraining weight against my chest, caging me captive against him. I was impaled by him. Stretched by him.

When I had quieted, when I had stopped trembling, when my tenseness had eased and I tiredly relaxed back against him, letting him support my full weight, he nuzzled the top of my head with his chin. "You're beautiful," he murmured.

"No, I'm not."

"You are."

"Only in your eyes."

"Then see yourself through my eyes. I'm going to turn us," and with that warning, he shifted us slowly, carefully edging around until we faced the mirror once again. The move was surprisingly easy for him to accomplish, and no effort on my part. He just pressed me tight against him. His knees made two gentle surges that jangled my nerves so that I tensed, but not enough for me to fight him. It was the sight of us in the mirror that made me gasp.

He was like a pagan god of carnal desire, naked, gloriously pow-erful, holding a delicate maiden in his arms, surrounding her, almost encompassing her. She—me—looked so much smaller. Fragile and helpless in his massive arms, against that hard body that swelled with brutal strength, that bulged with muscles around her like a living, imprisoning tower of flesh. And yet she leaned back against him trustingly. And he held her, cradled her, restrained her tenderly, protectively in his arms, even as his eyes burned with the fierceness of desire, and sparked hotly with unspent passion. The contrast, the trust, was a beautiful image, innocent even. From the front, you couldn't see the hot, hard length of him buried snug within me. All you saw was the sleepy, sensual languor of my eyelids, the light rose color of passion—either spent or rising, in this case both—dusting my face, my neck, my chest. And I was beautiful like that, my lips red with passion, my eyelids drooping with sensual languor. My breasts slight, delicate, high and firm, accented by my narrow waist and the feminine flare of my hips. My dark brown nipples were jutting peaks, crying for attention. The hair between my legs was dark and enticing, moist from my passion.