The Notebook - Masturbation monday

Rarrr! Look at the Masturbation Monday prompt for this week! I'm so buried deep in formatting a novel for paperback that I didn't have time to write an original piece - this is a snippet from said book which has kept me thoroughly occupied and reclusive this week...

Gloaming was setting in and Deborah pulled on her nightshirt and clambered up to the window to catch the remaining light. Her fingers trembled as she flicked through the pages of Marcus’s notebook, trying to find a particular entry. She’d committed so many of his words to memory already in the dim light of the moon’s rays during her time in the cell, but she had to see the words and his writing. It was like communicating with him. She needed something to make her feel connected.

The pages were soft on her fingertips as she fanned them, sweeping his faint aroma up to her. There, she’d found it.

I coaxed a quivering, shuddering release from her tonight with only my cock. It was so beautiful to watch it slip inside the pulling flesh of her delicate yet powerful folds. I tried to keep note of the angle, the dip, the force, the depth, but she squealed from her throat in that way that sends me flipping out in fractals of pure want...pure need. I had to just grab her hips as her pussy walls clenched around me and fuck her with all my being. She was so hot, so ripe, so wet, when she came I was engulfed in her pleasure— it blew me away. It threw me into a shuddering, spasming, feral creature and I growled, I growled over her as I fucked her. I wanted to consume her, to tear her flesh from her bones with my teeth. I wanted to have her all to myself, inside myself, forever. When we collapsed onto the sheets together, I’m sure I felt the resistance of our physicality give, just a little, and she slipped into me for just a second…

Deborah closed the book and held it to her breast. She leaned her head back against the cold brickwork and fell into the memory of that night. It had been sublime. The way he’d taken her with such ferocity had made her yearn for him even while he was fucking her. She understood his words about wanting to eat her up as it was exactly how she felt about him. She’d wanted to tear him apart with the lust she felt for him. The desperate need.

Breathing hard through her nose, Deborah felt at last the swelling of arousal in her abdomen. She arched her back into the wall and pushed her pelvis out into the night, pulling her nightshirt up over her mound to expose herself to the growing darkness. She spread her legs, shuffling her feet along the metal headboard she’d been balancing on, and held the notebook between her teeth. Clutching her pussy with both hands, she bent her knees to get a good, hard grip. She pulled her outer lips apart and dipped a finger roughly inside, pulling it out again to smear the juices over her clit.

She wished she could have seen what Marcus saw—wished she could watch herself open and stretch to accommodate his thick, hard dick. She bit down harder and opened her pussy wider, pushing three fingers into her soaking hole. It wasn’t enough—she wanted to be rammed to the brink of her existence. Still holding tight, she let the book drop from her mouth and pushed herself off the wall, falling on the bed with her fingers still deep inside her dripping sex. She moved her hips, thrusting and humping like he would have, and imagined she was him. Her heart beat wildly as she reached further underneath herself, trying to transfer her copious lubrication up to her anus. She was so turned on by her fantasy that as the tip of her finger reached the peaking ring of muscle, she came, hard and convulsing over her own hands.

As she became aware of her surroundings again, she could hear the sound of the creaking bedsprings slowing along with her heaving breaths. It was a good, satisfying orgasm and Deborah kept her hands in place until the cool draft of the night air dried her sweat and made her shiver.

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Snippet taken from Taking Flight.