Supernatural: Dean's Witch Ch. 03

"That's my line," he told her quietly as he lifted from her lips and began thrusting, slowly and smoothly, watching her eyes close in reaction, in pleasure, as she moaned with the sensations. He wanted to touch her clit, to drive her crazy, but he could see that the desire was already pulling at her, pushing her forward, and he wanted to catch up with her before she got there, so he held back, instead focusing on the heat of her body and the feel of the skin beneath his hands, and her pussy pulsing around him, holding him inside of her...

"Just another minute, baby," he whispered into her ear when he felt her hands clenching against him, one at his hip and the other on his bicep, holding onto him as he felt one of her legs wrap hard around his thigh, pulling him in as her cunt gripped harder, wanting release.

He sped up, knowing she'd feel the rhythm and come with him, and she did. He pushed forward, allowing his instincts to dictate their rhythm as he shut his eyes and held onto her, sliding back and forth in the slickness of her pussy, in and out until he was breathing as heavily as the girl gasping for breath and for release beneath him.

As Calla felt Dean begin pushing into her harder, faster and more firmly, she let herself focus on the sensations running through her skin, meeting him thrust for thrust and holding onto him, pulling him into her as far as he'd go. "God, you're big," she groaned once when he reached further than she'd expected, a quick pain jolting through her as he bottomed out and then retreated, speeding up to fill her again, and again.

"I'm, oh... God, Dean," she cried out, an orgasm quaking through her as he jerked within her body with his own sudden release, exploding and meeting her pulse for pulse, gasp for gasp, her fingers holding hard to his body.

Dean thrust again, relishing the gasp and the grip of her body as his dick jumped inside of her cunt, demanding more even as he came, groaning her name as his dick pulsed, wanting more already. Calla was quivering beneath him, sweaty and warm with her own pleasure, her eyes luminous when they finally met his.

"You look relaxed," he whispered to her, leaning in to kiss her, his dick still buried in her folds.

"Yeah," she breathed out, watching him. "Yeah."

His lips against her ear, still catching his breath, he asked, "So if I ask for more?"

"Yeah," she whispered again, letting out something like a giggle when she felt his dick react to the word, still inside of her, her pussy clutching at him in response.

He slipped out. "Turn over," he told her, and Calla nodded, her eyes on his until he turned to remove the full condom he'd been wearing and get another. She closed her eyes, laying on her stomach on his bed, and then moved with his hands instinctively when they came to her hips from behind and pulled her back so that she was on her hands and knees.

Shivering, she felt him trace his fingers along her three tattoos, the left and then the right, and finally the center, where his two hands met and played along the lines until she was shivering in front of him, waiting. His hands on her felt electric, as if her skin was alive under his fingertips, reacting to his every touch, every breath. Then he reached beneath her, playing with her hard nipples and then running over her belly, and lower, to her clit, so that she jerked back against him with a gasp, pleasure running through her. When he shifted and she felt one of his legs along the line of hers, she couldn't help pushing back toward him, arching her back with want.

Dean watched her stretching out before him, her round ass just in front of him, and those telling tattoos along her back. The line of her back was perfect, and he could see a tremble in her shoulders as he ran one of his hands along her ribs and then down to her backside, gripping her and pulling her back to him, so that she could feel his stiff dick along the line of her ass, reaching for her cunt. She was slick with sweat and want, and smooth, and she smelled like sex. When she glanced back to him, over her shoulder so that the muscles of her back twisted and reminded him of why he'd placed her like this, he allowed himself to grin down at her, gripping her hips as he nudged his dick forward so that she gasped.

"I want you, too," he said, and then he pressed one of his hands into her lower back, pushing her into a deeper arch so that she let her arms lay on the bed, her breasts pressing into the sheet as her ass stayed in the air, presented to him. Calla closed her eyes when one of his hands gripped her hip harder and she heard herself groan with need, but before she could say anything, his dick was pressing into her cunt from behind, slipping in, and he felt even fuller and larger than he had before—harder, as if he'd grown since a moment ago—so that she gasped at his entrance.

Dean held her still as he pressed forward, one hand on her hip and one on her waist, his thumb tracing along the edge of one tattoo as he watched the muscles in her arched back flex in response to his touch. Even in this, their second bout, his dick filled her, and when he pushed forward and leaned into her back, the deeper arch in her body and the quick mewl of pleasure that came from her told him he was rubbing against her g-spot, stimulating her from this direction like he couldn't have in missionary. Hearing the sounds, he let himself pull back and forth, making his thrusts shallow enough that he was never far from that spot—pressing back and forth along it, rhythmic and hard, until she was practically vibrating beneath him, and he knew her knees would have given out by now if his own angle hadn't kept her pushed upright in front of him, accepting him, her hands clenched in the bedsheets to hold herself pressed up against him, moving with him.

"Cum for me again, baby, come on," he groaned, letting himself make a sudden, harder push into her so that she gasped out his name and he felt her cunt contract, spasming around him as he thrust into her again and again, holding himself in check as one of his hands found a nipple and he relied on his other arm for support, kissing her shoulder from behind as he kept going and she gasped for breath. Then he bit down lightly into her shoulder as his fingers found her clit and he pressed in hard, and she bucked beneath him, screaming his name into the sheets as he held her there, cumming beneath him, his cock relishing the feeling of her body jerking while he was still buried inside of her, pushing her further even as the orgasm took hold of her every nerve and she shuddered with it, over and over again.

He finally moved his fingers from her clit when he felt her struggling to come down, but began thrusting slowly again, biting his lip to hold himself back from cumming already and then licking at the sweat along her spine as one of his hands found a breast and kneaded at her. Listening to her whimper with pleasure, he wanted to keep going forever, just like this.

"God, Dean," she groaned, pushing back into him, and he heard her take a deep, whimpering breath as his cock ran along her passage again, more slowly this time, pulling out every sensation from her that it could.

He kept going, moving slowly until she'd caught her breath, even against her protests that she'd never catch her breath while he kept pushing her body like this, holding her at the line of pleasure and putting off his own with each slow move. By the time he felt her pussy responding faster again, pulsing more heavily against him, he was past ready to explode again, but he wanted her with him. Speeding up, gasping into her back, he let his fingers come down on her tender clit just as he jerked heavily into her, his cock shaking with the orgasm as she screamed underneath of him, her lips buried in the sheets to muffle the still-clear sound of his name. He stayed inside of her as she collapsed beneath him finally—he'd been holding her up practically, by the end, and now that they were both spent, he lay above her with his cock still held tightly inside of her pussy, buried inside of her wet warmth as he caught his breath again and ran his hands along her panting sides, enjoying each mewl of pleasure she let out in response.

Dean let himself push in one more time before pulling out, grinning at the satisfied gasp she let out, and the way her fingers gripped the sheet beneath her. Her eyes were still closed, her lips open and panting. Like this, undone on his bed, she was everything he'd been wanting.

Calla finally turned over, to see that Dean was still staring at her, sweat-soaked and with that dangerous grin on his lips, the spent condom dangling from one hand. "I don't...that was... Jesus," Calla finished, closing her eyes again. She couldn't get her mind settled enough to form sentences, and her limbs felt heavy with pleasure and exhaustion, her skin still tingling from Dean's touch.

"Yeah," Dean said quietly, his eyes still roaming over her form. Finally, he turned and discarded the condom before letting himself collapse again beside her, the adrenaline and desire of everything finally receding some, leaving exhaustion in its wake. By the time he'd caught his breath, he was realizing he was starving. "When did you last eat?" he asked.

Calla barely heard the question—beside him, she'd been halfway back to falling asleep. "Huh... oh, I don't know," she told him, letting herself roll over so that she landed against him, one hand coming to rest on his belly, her thigh across his. She heard him sigh in response, and snuggled further into his body, closing her eyes again.

Dean twisted his head sideways to glance at her—her eyes were closed. Between the liquor and the stress, and now the sex, she was just flat-out exhausted. He'd get up soon and get them food. For now, though... he wrapped one arm around her shoulder and pulled her body closer, and let her head rest on his other arm.

To Be Continued...