The yacht rocked gently beneath us, a cradle for the storm we'd unleashed. My body felt heavy, limbs leaden from the release that had torn through me moments ago. Cum still leaked from Isabella's swollen pussy, dripping onto my chest in warm, sticky trails as she hovered above my face. Her thighs framed my head like marble pillars, glistening with sweat and her own release. The scent of her—musk, salt, and the faint jasmine from her perfume—filled my lungs, intoxicating, overwhelming.
"More," she repeated, voice low and commanding, not a request. Her fingers tangled in my hair, yanking my head back so I had no choice but to look up at her. Those dark eyes burned with something feral. "You think one time is enough for me, Welheim?"
I tried to laugh, but it came out hoarse. "Bella... give a man a second to—"
"No." She lowered herself without warning, pressing her dripping cunt directly against my mouth. The taste of us exploded across my tongue—her sweetness mixed with the sharp salt of my own seed. I groaned into her, the vibration making her shudder. Instinct took over; my hands gripped her thighs, pulling her down harder as my tongue plunged inside her, lapping at the mess we'd made.
She rode my face with the same ruthless rhythm she'd used on my cock. Hips rolling, grinding, chasing friction against my nose, my lips, my chin. Wet sounds filled the cabin—obscene, slick, relentless. Her clit swelled against my tongue each time she dragged herself forward. When I sucked it between my lips, she cried out, thighs clamping around my ears.
"Like that," she hissed. "Don't you dare stop."
I couldn't have if I wanted to. Oxygen became secondary; all that mattered was the flood of her arousal coating my face, the way her body trembled each time I flicked her clit or thrust my tongue deep. She came again—suddenly, violently—hips jerking as another gush of squirt sprayed across my chin and neck. I swallowed what I could, the rest running down my throat, my chest, soaking the silk sheets beneath us.
She didn't lift off. Instead she kept grinding through the aftershocks, smearing her release across my lips until I was drenched. Only when her breathing steadied did she slide down my body, leaving a wet trail over my sternum, my stomach.
My cock, traitor that it was, had already begun to harden again. The sight of her—hair wild, lips swollen, nipples tight—had me throbbing despite the exhaustion.
She noticed. A wicked smile curved her mouth. "Look at you. Still hungry even after I drained you."
"Isabella..." My voice cracked. "You're going to kill me."
"Good." She wrapped her hand around my length, stroking once, twice—firm, possessive. "Then you'll die happy."
She positioned herself above me again, guiding my cock to her entrance. This time she sank down slowly, deliberately, letting me feel every inch of her slick heat as she stretched around me. When she bottomed out, she stayed there, rolling her hips in tight circles, torturing me with the pressure.
I hissed through my teeth. "Fuck... slow down."
"No." She leaned forward, palms braced on my chest, nails digging crescents into my pecs. "You wanted me tonight. You teased me on that deck for hours. Now you get all of me."
Then she began to move—slow at first, long, punishing strokes that dragged her walls along my entire length. Each time she lifted, the cool air kissed my wet shaft; each time she slammed back down, heat swallowed me whole. The contrast drove me insane.
Her pace increased. Faster. Harder. The bed creaked beneath us, protesting the violence. Her breasts bounced with every downward thrust, nipples brushing my chest. I tried to thrust up to meet her, but she pinned my hips with her weight, controlling everything.
"You're mine tonight," she panted. "Say it."
I groaned. "Yours."
"Louder."
"Yours, Isabella—fuck—yours!"
She rewarded me by clenching hard around my cock, milking me until stars burst behind my eyelids. Another orgasm ripped through her; she threw her head back, screaming my name as she squirted again, the hot rush soaking my groin, my thighs, the sheets. The sight of it—her body shaking, pussy pulsing visibly around me—nearly made me come again, but she slowed just enough to deny me.
"Not yet," she whispered, voice ragged. "I want more."
She flipped positions without warning, pushing me onto my back fully and straddling me reverse. The view—her perfect ass, the way her pussy gripped me as she sank down again—was devastating. She rode me facing away, hands braced on my thighs, rolling her hips in filthy figure-eights.
I watched, mesmerized, as my cock disappeared inside her over and over. Each time she lifted, creamy white streaks of my earlier release coated my shaft. She reached between her legs, rubbing her clit in furious circles while she fucked me, chasing another peak.
When she came this time, she ground down hard, ass cheeks pressed flush against my pelvis, and squirted so forcefully it sprayed across my stomach in rhythmic pulses. The sensation—hot, wet, endless—pushed me dangerously close.
"Isabella... I can't—"
"You can." She spun around again, facing me now, eyes glassy with lust. "One more. Give me one more."
She rode me with brutal precision—short, sharp bounces that battered my cockhead against her cervix. Her nails raked down my chest, leaving angry red lines. Pain and pleasure blurred until I couldn't tell them apart.
My balls drew up tight. The pressure built, unbearable. She felt it, clenched deliberately around me.
"Come," she ordered. "Fill me again."
I shattered.
The orgasm hit like a freight train—white-hot, blinding. I roared her name as I pumped rope after rope deep inside her, hips jerking uncontrollably. She kept moving through it, milking every drop, drawing it out until I was shaking, oversensitive, gasping.
When it finally ended, I collapsed, chest heaving, vision swimming. Every muscle trembled. My cock twitched weakly inside her, spent beyond reason.
Isabella, though... she was glowing. Cheeks flushed, skin slick with sweat, eyes bright with triumph. She leaned down, kissed me slow and deep, tasting herself and me on my tongue.
Then she lifted off me with a wet sound, my cum immediately leaking out, dripping onto my softening length. She scooped some with two fingers, brought them to her lips, and sucked them clean while holding my gaze.
"Not done," she murmured, voice husky. "Not even close."
She slid down my body, mouth hovering over my oversensitive cock. I whimpered—actually whimpered—when her tongue flicked the head.
"Isabella... mercy..."
She smiled against my skin, wicked and beautiful.
"Mercy?" she echoed. "No, caro mio. We're just getting started."
Her lips closed around me.
The yacht kept sailing into the night, carrying us deeper into whatever madness we'd begun.