By: Claire Kent

They were rocking the whole bed, banging the headboard against the wall, and Amy was so close—just couldn’t quite get there. Practically sobbing, she bucked up with frantic jerks of her pelvis, sweating collecting in the hollow of her neck and across her belly.

“Look at me, baby,” Owen said.

She couldn’t immediately, she was so overwhelmed.

“Amy, love, look at me.” His voice was low but held unmistakable authority.

She met his eyes and then couldn’t look away, trapped by the fire, the need, the passion in his expression.

The shift in focus left all the intense sensations out of her control. And, once out of her control, they took on a life of their own. And a few more thrusts pushed her over the edge at last.

“Come now, love.”

She did.

She howled with it—there was no other word. It swept up from her center and overtook her body completely. All the pressure that had built up from the previous, half-finished orgasms combined and imploded with this one, leaving her helpless in the wake of it.

She knew Owen was watching her, but she couldn’t be self-conscious. She was barely conscious of anything but the waves of sensation washing over her. It went on for a long time, her inner muscles clamping down brutally around Owen’s hard cock.

Until she became conscious of one other thing. Owen was swearing under his breath, his face contorted with what looked like agony. His body had frozen completely still, and it was only her rocking body—riding him from below—that extended the long duration of the contractions.

Finally, the peak passed, and she gasped desperately as she started to come down, her body beginning to relax—contented, pleased, and exhausted.

Halfway through her orgasm, Owen had squeezed his eyes shut, but he opened them again as she fell limp onto the mattress.

“Wow!” she gasped. “It was worth it. That might be the best I’ve ever had.”

She thought he wanted to look pleased with himself. But he mostly just looked like he’d been through a war.

When her muscles had unclenched enough, he pulled out of her, his cock still hard and slick from her fluids. Instead of pulling her into a tight embrace and then collapsing beside her as he usually did, he cupped her groin with his palm. He wasn’t in direct contact with her clit but he started applying pressure with the heel of his hand.

“Really going to try for more?” she inquired weakly, still far too pleased with the world to mind his arrogance.

“You didn’t think I’d give up after one, did you?” His eyebrows elevated just a little, but his breathing was erratic and sweat was pouring down the sides of his face.

Poor thing. He’d done really well. And he wasn‘t yet admitting defeat. She wanted to swallow him whole—to pull him inside her and never let him go. But what she said was, “Okay. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She wasn’t worried. In fact, she was almost perfectly happy. Owen clearly wanted her so much that he could barely control himself. She had no doubts, especially now, that she would win the wager. She’d just had the best orgasm of her life. And Owen was looking at her with that tender possessiveness she so loved and so little understood.

And he was going to try for another.

In fact, she was so lost in her pleasant haze that she failed to notice when Owen reached over and opened the drawer to the nightstand.

She only noticed when he pulled something out and turned it on.

She’d had it for quite a while, but didn’t use it much anymore, since Owen more than satisfied her. She wasn’t even sure how he’d known it was there.

But the sight and sound of the little device immediately snapped her out of her dazed languor. It actually made her a little bit nervous.

“Hey, you big cheater! I never said you could use a vibrator.”

Two, Three, and Four

Owen gave her an arrogant look. “You never said I couldn’t use a vibrator.”

Amy’s jaw fell open. She was feeling warm and sated and wasn’t really in the psychological state to do much arguing. She’d never come more than twice with a vibrator anyway, so she didn’t think this would end up being the thing to determine the victory, but it wouldn’t do to let Owen have his way too easily. “These orgasms are supposed to be from you—not from some little mechanical device.”

He turned off the vibrator when he saw she was going to put up a fight. “Oh, believe me, I’ll be the one making you come.” He pushed against her sensitive clit with the heel of his hand. “But my hand might get tired if I have to rely only on it for all seven orgasms.”

“You have to use your cock.” She gazed down at that particular body part as she spoke. It was still hard and coated with her fluids. It wasn’t particularly beautiful—no cock she’d ever seen was—but she loved how it looked, how it felt, what it signified when it was erect. Loved the sight of it now, concrete evidence of their earlier lovemaking.

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