His Masterpiece by Ava Lore

His arms came around me and held me. The rough texture of his pubic hair ground into my clit and his cock filled me to the brim.
    He ran his hands over me, as though soothing a wild beast, then under me he slowly drew out and thrust in.
    The sweetness of it brought tears to my eyes. He wrapped me up in his body, holding me immobile as he pushed his hips against mine, his cock sliding in and out of my tight channel, the mound of his pubic bone grating over my clit, still hypersensitive from his earlier rough handling. I felt another orgasm build in me as our hips slammed together and he held me tight against him, our hearts hammering in time against our chests, as though trying to reach each other though blood and flesh and bone.
    His cock swept in and out of me, and I coiled and curled over him, my mouth finding his ear. "Malcolm," I whispered. "Malcolm, Malcolm, make me come, make me come around you..."
    "I will," he breathed. "Sadie, beautiful Sadie, my muse, my muse..." His hands went to my ass and gripped my cheeks tightly, suddenly moving me over him in different ways, angling up against the upper wall of my core, thrusting high and deep while my clit scraped and rubbed against him. My mouth opened and I swirled my tongue over his ear, slipping and probing into the folds, gentle and urgent, the same way he ate me out, and Malcolm lost control beneath me. His hips thrust and he thrashed, rolling in the bed under me as his cock plunged into my core, but all the while still carefully keeping me immobile so as not to hurt me. His fingers dug in, and I knew he would leave bruises, but I didn't care.
    Then he thrust into me deeper and harder than ever before and I came, shuddering and shivering. Under me Malcolm called my name and I fastened my hands in his hair, pulling and tugging his head back until I revealed his throat to me. As I came I bit down and he cried out and thrust wildly beneath me, carried away, and I felt his cock coil and tighten before emptying his seed into me in short, sharp bursts. Together we strove in the warmth of his bed, in the light of the city, and when it was over I fell asleep on top of him with his cock still inside me.
    ––––––––
    I woke in the middle of the night. We had shifted positions and Malcolm slept beside me, one arm thrown over my chest, and his breathing was deep and slow. He looked almost human in the light of the streetlamps outside, his face half-smooshed into the pillow under his head. The space between my thighs was delightfully sore and raw and sticky with his cum, and I clamped my legs together, as though I could keep that feeling with me forever. I rolled into him and kissed his forehead on an impulse.
    He woke almost immediately, his cherrywood eyes black in the dim light, and I wanted to fall into them. Which was really silly, I reflected, because that'd probably hurt both parties. I must get sappy after getting laid.
    No, not just getting laid...
    "Hey," I said.
    "Hello," he replied, all formality before tightening his arm around me and drawing me closer. The wound in my side, now unobscured by pleasure, tweaked and I winced. Malcolm froze immediately, then moved toward me himself. I let him come. I'd spent quite a bit of time chasing after him, it seemed. It was only right that he return the favor a little bit. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
    I smiled and burrowed into his shoulder. He smelled good, rich and manly and dark, and I let myself revel in his scent. "I think I'm fine," I said. An understatement.
    "Good," he said. "I'm glad. I worried I might hurt you."
    "Don't worry about that," I said. "I'd let you know if you did."
    His mouth twisted. "I'm sure you would.” Then he smiled. "And I might like it."
    "If you want me to whip you and peg you, you only have to ask."
    The look on his face was priceless. "I never said anything about pegging and whipping," he said.
    I laughed at him. "Then what were you thinking of?"
    "I was thinking more giving me a