Free Curves for the Billionaire by Alexis Moore

bearable ache.  She relaxed around him and he slowly withdrew half his length and then slid back inside her, eliciting a spark of pleasurable sensation.  Watching her eyes go soft in reaction, Zachary deepened his next stroke, still holding her head securely and locking gazes with her.
    “Are you okay now?”
    She nodded mutely, not sure that she would be able to get words past her throat.  The pain had almost completely receded now and her body had relaxed and further softened around him.  Seeming reassured, he lowered his head to encircle and suckle the hard points of her breasts.
    “You’re so sweet and tight.  So tight and…mine.”  He slowly built the tempo of his driving hips and she found her hips instinctively following the movement.  “Mine only!”
    Finding his small, flat nipples, she tweaked them between her fingers
    “Yes, yes,” he groaned in encouragement and thrust deeper, faster and harder, sparking a more urgent reaction inside her so that she wrapped her legs tighter around his hips as once again she felt the moment of release approach.  Zachary seemed intent on going on for longer, but as soon as she started to convulse around him his pace quickened.  He held her tighter as tremors shook his body.  “Yes, come for me, baby.  Come…oh fuck!”
    Samantha felt the rush of his seed and held him even tighter as he ground his hips against hers as if trying to shoot it as deep as possible inside her.  She soared on a sea of bliss for a moment or two, and then gradually became aware of her surroundings again.
    Masturbation had been great, but sharing an orgasm with Zachary was simply out of this world.
    “I’ll be right back,” he promised and slipped off the bed.
    Realizing that she was sprawled naked on top of the covers, Samantha tried to crawl under them and found that her whole centre ached—not only her vagina, inside and out, but her inner thighs and muscles that she’d probably never used before.
    Zachary returned with a washcloth in his hand.
    Samantha instinctively held on to the covers when he tried to fold them back.
    “What are you doing?” she asked in alarm.
    “Aren’t you sore?”
    “A little,” she reluctantly admitted.
    “Then let me tend to you.”
    “I can do it myself,” she told him, reaching for the damp cloth.
    “No, let me do it,” he insisted firmly.
    Samantha knew he meant well, but she didn’t think she could bear to have him touch her just yet.
    “I’ll be gentle,” he assured her as if sensing her worry.  “I promise.”
    “Okay.”
    Samantha loosened her death grip on the covers and let him pull them back.
    He sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at her encouragingly as he bent her legs at the knees and spread them, using his free hand.
    “God, baby, look at you.”
    “What?”  She had forgotten to check to see if she was bleeding.
    “You’re so swollen.”  His eyes met hers.  She couldn’t read the expression in them.  There was something primitive in them—almost as if he wanted to beat his chest in triumph—and yet there tenderness there too.  “There’s a little blood, but not as much as I’d feared there would be.”
    She tensed as she felt the cool damp cloth against her tender flesh, but he simply pressed it against her, letting its coolness soothe the burning sensation.  It felt heavenly and with a sigh Samantha gave herself up to his administrations.
    “Better?” he asked finally.
    “Thank you.”
    He got off the bed, went to the bathroom and quickly returned.
    “We were good together,” he told her as he slipped his arm around her and pulled her close.
    “Was it good for you too?”  She hadn’t been sure if their lovemaking had felt as wonderful to him with his greater experience.
    “It was amazing,” he confirmed kissing her softly.  “Worth the torture of the last nine years.”
    “If it was torture, why didn’t you ever try to kiss me again?” she demanded.
    “Your friendship was too