Then, I repeat the process of lathering it up with her natural lubrication. Touching her opening with the head of my dick, I make sure that my eyes are joined with hers as I slowly push myself balls deep. A guttural groan leaves my mouth when the pleasure spikes down to my ball sack. My woman has a voodoo pussy, one that I know I’ll never grow tired of. She’s magical, not just her body and what it does to mine, but everything about her is captivating and shatters my world.
I slowly begin to pump my hips back and forth. Seesawing inside of her, hitting that special button placed deep inside, the head of my dick brushing it with every upward thrust. I drag it back out, trying to maintain what little dignity I have left where it comes to her, not wanting to come like a prepubescent teenager getting his first taste of pussy.
I push one of her knees up toward her head, changing the angle for a deeper penetration. Her other leg comes up and wraps around my hip. Our eyes never leave one another as we reach for our release. We don’t talk, we don’t communicate outside of our moans and looks. That’s all that we seem to need at this moment.
We’re bonding on a more intimate level than I’ve ever experienced or knew was possible. I add a swivel to my hips which breaks our eye contact as her head tosses back on the pillow. Her neck is predominantly stretched, not being able to resist the offering, I lean down and lick and place tiny kisses along it.
“Shamus!” she hollers out as her walls clamp down on my shaft, trying to capture it hostage, not that I’m complaining. Except for the inept need to pump my dick in and out of her. The grip has my eyes crossing and stars dancing behind my lids. A few thrusts later and I’m finding myself exploding into the depths of the condom.
Without thinking further on the topic, I blurt out three words that have been swirling in my mind since the moment our lips touched for the first time. It may be too soon, but I’ll never forgive myself if something were to happen to me and I never get the opportunity to share with her how I’m feeling.
“I love you. You don’t have to say it back, and don’t feel guilty if you don’t feel the same way. I just couldn’t wait another minute to share this with you.”
“Oh, Shamus. I, I love you too. I know it’s too soon, practically unheard of to love someone as quickly as I’ve come to love you. But there it is, all that I am I’m gifting to you. You own me, completely, Shamus.”
With those words shared by us, my dick grows harder again and I pull out of her and replace the condom with a new one. We make love off and on throughout the night. It’s a freeing experience to share this type of connection with the one person who was born to complete you.
Star
The next few days fly by in a blur. Shamus spends as many waking hours as he can with us when he’s not taking care of club business or in meetings with his brothers. Each one of the men and women here have captured a piece of my heart and I couldn’t be happier than I am with my newfound life and freedoms.
I can come and go as I please, as long as I stick to the compound's inner walls. Which is fine with me, it’s more than I’ve had. I am living for each moment in time. I get to feel my bare feet on the grass, walk around without getting prior permission to leave my cage. Life is filled with new and exciting things every time I open my eyes.
It’s the small victories that I’m considering a huge win. I have my sister back at my side, a man I adore, my baby in my arms each night and her aunt, Jessia, who is slowly starting to find herself. I still can’t believe that this is all really happening. Sometimes at night, I’ll lay there, fearful of closing my eyes only to wake up with it all being a dream.
This morning, the women and I all made a big breakfast for the men. They’re on kid duty, which I find humbling, and us women; we’re on the back porch sipping coffee and doing what women do best… we’re gossiping. And I’m enthralled with these women. Just when I think I have them all nailed down, and understand them, they do something so outside of the box that it catches me off-guard.
We’ve all been taking turns sharing with one another about our past and the relationships that helped mold us into the women we are today. When Cameron tells me about her ex, Jamie, and the context that they are trying to understand with the whole prophecy thing that surrounds her and her birth, I throw my hand up.
“Wait.” I stop her. “I know this story. Jamie, or as I know him by, J, is a friend of Jeremiah’s, he had a brother, Dagon? Is that right? I called him Dragon several times because he’d sit around not saying a word, huffing and puffing the whole time they were visiting.”
“Yeah, only we just found out about Dagon,” Cameron interrupts. “I dated that fucker for months and he never, not once, mentioned he had a brother, let alone a twin.”
“The club believed that we’d gotten rid of that slimy fuck, Jamie, but instead it was Dagon. He never said not one word about him not being Jamie when he was being dealt with,” Charlee insinuates.
“He
