Urban God of Rebate: Infinite Returns Of Women And Powers

”Makima.”

She hummed around him. Didn’t stop.

”I’m close. I’m going to come.” Said Sean.

She pulled back just far enough to speak, her lips still brushing the head of his cock. ”Good. I want it in my mouth. I want to taste it.” Then she looked up at him with those blue eyes, and what she said next was nearly a command. ”Don’t hold back.

”

She swallowed his dick again, and Sean’s restraint shattered.

His climax hit like a fist clenching. His hips bucked up and she took it, kept him deep while his cock pulsed against her tongue, and he watched her throat move as she swallowed—once, twice—her eyes watering slightly but never closing. She held his gaze through the whole thing, and when the spasms finally stopped she pulled off gently, licked her lips, and opened her mouth to show him she’d taken everything.

Then she swallowed one last time and smiled.

”Delicious,” she said. Her voice was hoarse. ”Now get up.”

Sean stood, pulling his trousers the rest of the way off, and before he could think about what came next Makima’s hand was on his chest, pushing him back. Not hard. Just enough to redirect.

”Sit,” she said, nodding toward the chair he’d just vacated.

He sat.

She rose gracefully and walked to the dining table, hips swaying with that natural movement that had never once been performative. The candles flickered as she passed. She swept the plates and silverware aside with one arm—a glass tipped over, red wine spreading dark across the tablecloth, neither of them cared—and then she was hoisting herself onto the edge of the table, legs dangling, blouse still on but utterly disheveled.

”Come here,” she said. ”I want your mouth on me.”

Sean crossed the distance in two steps. He dropped to his knees in front of the table and ran his palms up the inside of her thighs, pushing them apart. Makima leaned back on her elbows, and her head tipped backward when his breath ghosted over the slick heat of her pussy.

”Please,” she whispered. The ceiling got that word. The candles got it. ”Please, Sean.”

He put his mouth on her.

She jerked like she’d been shocked. A sharp cry tore out of her throat, and her thighs clamped against his ears before she forced them apart again, one hand flying to the back of his head to hold him in place. Sean licked into her with slow, deliberate pressure, dragging the flat of his tongue from her entrance to her clit and then circling there, light then firm, teasing and then insistent, reading her body’s responses and adjusting every stroke.

”Right there— god, right there—”

Her hips rolled against his face. He gripped her thighs and held her steady while he worked her clit with his tongue, drawing tight circles, flicking the swollen bud until her thighs began to tremble. The sounds she made were half words, half animal—broken syllables that never quite formed into language, and between them the wet sound of his mouth on her, the creak of the table beneath her shifting weight.

”Sean, I’m— I’m going to—”

He sucked her clit between his lips and pressed his tongue hard against it, and Makima shattered.

Her back arched off the table. Her hand fisted in his hair so tight it stung. A cry ripped from somewhere deep in her chest—loud, shameless, the kind of sound that would carry through the walls if anyone were listening—and her whole body convulsed against his mouth while he kept licking, kept sucking, drawing the orgasm out until she was gasping and pushing weakly at his forehead.

”Okay,” she panted. ”Okay. Okay.”

Sean pulled back. His lips and chin were slick with her. The tablecloth was a disaster beneath her—wine stains spreading, silverware scattered, one candle dangerously close to tipping. Makima lay sprawled across the table with her blouse hiked up around her ribs and her hair coming fully undone now, black waves spilling across the mahogany, and she looked at Sean with an expression that was equal parts disbelief and raw wanting.

”That was amazing” Makima said, still breathless.

”We’re not done.” Said Sean

She propped herself up on her elbows. ”No?”

Sean stood, stepping between her spread thighs. His cock was hard again—achingly hard, the brief recovery period having done nothing to blunt his desire—and when she saw it her eyes went wide.

”Already?” Said Makima

”You have that effect on me.” Said Sean

He positioned his cock at her pussy entrance, the head of his cock pressing against her wetness, and Makima’s breath caught. She reached down and wrapped her fingers around him, guiding him, and when she looked up at him there was something almost vulnerable in her face—the composed thirty-two-year-old building manager stripped away entirely, leaving only a woman who had been carrying heavy things alone for too long.

”I want you inside me,” she said. ”I want you to fuck me on this table until I can’t walk.”

Sean pushed forward.

She was tight. So tight his vision blurred at the edges. Her pussy gripped him like a fist, hot and wet and yielding by degrees, and Makima’s head fell back again with a moan that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than her throat—from her chest, maybe, or her stomach, someplace that had been waiting.

”Yes,” she hissed. ”Yes, Sean, just like that— deeper—”

He bottomed out and held there, letting her adjust, letting himself feel every inch of her. Then he began to move.

The rhythm came naturally. A steady, driving pace that made the table shudder beneath them, made the remaining silverware rattle and the candle flames jump. Makima wrapped her legs around his waist and met every thrust with her hips, grinding upward when he pressed in, gasping when he pulled back. Her blouse had come entirely undone now, her breasts spilling over the cups of her bra, and Sean leaned down to take one nipple into his mouth while he fucked her.