Lust Meter System: Conquering Beauties

They lay there for a while after, neither of them in any particular hurry to be anywhere else.

The apartment held its afternoon quiet around them, the light through the window having shifted slightly from where it had been when they started, the mat warm beneath them from everything that had happened on it.

Grace was lying on her back with one arm across her stomach and the other above her head, looking at the ceiling with the specific expression of someone whose body had just been through several things and was still taking inventory.

"That was something," she said.

"Your back better?" he said.

She considered it. "Ask me in ten minutes," she said. "I can’t feel much of anything right now."

He looked at her.

She looked at the ceiling.

Then she looked at him.

Then she looked further down than his face and her expression shifted slightly, something between amusement and the specific awareness of someone who had just noticed something present in the room that had not been there before and was not going anywhere.

She looked back at the ceiling.

"You’re still," she said, and left the sentence there without finishing it.

Liam said nothing.

’I’m just going to sit here,’ he thought, settling back on his hands. ’And see what happens next. No pressure. Very calm. Completely calm.’

Grace sat up slowly, her hair slightly undone, her chest still flushed from everything, and reached for her underwear from where it had ended up beside the mat.

"I need water," she said. "You want some?"

"Sure," he said.

She stood up and walked to the kitchen and Liam sat on the mat with his legs crossed in what was approximately a meditation position and watched her go.

The underwear was back on but nothing else was, and the walk to the kitchen was doing several things that a walk to the kitchen had no obligation to do but was doing anyway.

Daisy lifted her head from the couch.

She looked at Liam.

Then she looked at the specific situation in front of him, present and obvious and not diminishing.

Then she looked back at Liam with the patient confusion of a golden retriever encountering something that did not fit any of her existing categories.

"Don’t look at me like that," he said quietly.

Daisy put her head back down.

Grace came back from the kitchen with two glasses of water and stopped in front of him and held one out and looked at him properly for the first time since she stood up.

She looked at him.

She looked at the situation.

She looked back at his face.

"You said you were calming down," she said.

"I am calming down," he said. "It’s a process."

She sat back down on the mat beside him and held her glass in both hands and looked at the window. "You’re not satisfied," she said. Not a question. Just her reading what was in the room and stating it plainly.

"I’m fine," he said.

She looked at him sideways. "Liam."

"I’m genuinely fine," he said. "I’ll calm down in a minute."

She looked at the situation one more time.

"I can help with that," she said.

He looked at her.

She looked at the bedroom door and then back at him. "Let’s go to the room," she said.

"We should be done with the treatment first," he said.

She looked at him with the expression of someone who had heard a sentence and was deciding whether it deserved a response. "It’s not like this is the first time we’ve gone past the treatment," she said.

He thought about that.

"True," he said.

"True," she agreed. She stood up and held her hand out toward him.

He took it and stood up.

She turned toward the bedroom.

She was walking ahead of him down the short hall and he was behind her and she was wearing nothing but the dark blue underwear and the way she was walking did things to the fabric of it that the fabric of it was not equipped to handle. Her ass moved with each step, full and round and completely present, swaying with the natural rhythm of someone walking to their own bedroom who was entirely unaware of what was happening behind them.

’I cannot do this,’ he thought, watching her. ’I cannot just walk behind this and act normal.’

He reached forward and got both arms under her before she had processed what was happening, one arm under her knees and one at her back, lifting her clean off the floor.

She let out a sharp sound and grabbed his shoulders. "Liam what are you doing."

"Taking care of you," he said, carrying her the remaining distance to the bedroom.

"I’m not your," she started.

"Yes you are," he said, and pushed the bedroom door open with his foot and carried her through it.

She covered her face with both hands and said nothing further about that.

He carried her to the bed and lowered her onto it slowly, setting her down on the white duvet, and she lay there with her hands still over her face like if she couldn’t see him the conversation had not happened.

He stood at the edge of the bed and looked at her.

"We should get started," she said, from behind her hands.

"My baby’s impatient," he said.

She moved her hands just far enough to look at him over the tops of her fingers. "I’m not impatient," she said. "I’m just thinking about you. You’ve been walking around like that and it can’t be comfortable."

He looked at her lying there on the bed with her hands half over her face looking at him with the amber eyes that did their specific thing in this light.

"Alright," he said. "Alright, let’s get started then."

He moved onto the bed and she let her hands fall from her face and he spread her legs gently and looked at her.

He pressed two fingers against her slowly and pushed in.

"Oh," she said, her head pressing back against the pillow.

He worked them steadily, feeling how ready she already was, her hips shifting with the movement, small sounds coming from her that she was making no effort to manage.

He pulled his fingers out and looked at them and then at her.

"Not a drop left," he said.

She looked at him. "Stop it," she said.

"I’m being observational," he said.

"You’re being something," she said.

"Your pussy deserves a kiss for that," he said.

He lowered his head before she could respond to that sentence.

His mouth found her and she made a sound that went directly into the bedroom ceiling, her hands finding the back of his head, her back arching off the duvet.

He worked slowly, his tongue pressing and withdrawing and pressing again, finding the rhythm that her breathing was already telling him she needed, his hands moving up from her thighs to her chest where he found her boobs and pressed both palms across them.

"Oh," she said. "Oh god."

He squeezed lightly and she pressed his hands harder against her without noticing she was doing it, her fingers closing over the back of his hands and pulling them tighter against her chest.

"Mm," she said. "Oh. Oh Liam."

He kept both things going, his mouth and his hands, her sounds building with the combination of them, her hips pressing forward against his face, her hands gripping his tighter across her chest.

"Oh," she said. "Oh. Oh god. Right there. Oh."

He pressed his tongue harder against the specific point and held there.

"Haa," she said. "Oh. Oh I’m going to."

He stayed exactly where he was and felt everything build to its end beneath his mouth and hands.

She came, her whole body pulling together, her hands gripping his hard across her chest, a long sound leaving her into the room, her hips pressing forward and then going still and then shaking through the last of it before she finally released and went flat against the duvet.

He lifted his head and looked at her.

She was there on the bed, her chest rising and falling, her eyes half open, her hair across the pillow, the flush sitting deep and present across her chest and her stomach.

He moved up over her.

She felt him and her hands found his arms and she looked up at him with the amber eyes doing what they did in this light, warm and present and entirely hers.

He pushed in slowly.

"Oh," she said, her head going back into the pillow. "Oh god."

He held still for a moment, letting her adjust, feeling her warmth around him, her legs coming up and crossing at his back without her deciding to cross them.

Then he started moving.

He lowered his mouth to her neck and pressed there as his hips found the rhythm, long and unhurried, each stroke deliberate, her sounds coming with each one.

"Mm," she said. "Oh."

He moved his mouth along her neck, feeling her pulse under his lips, her hands pressing flat against his back.

"You feel incredible," he said quietly against her neck. "Every time. Like something that was made specifically for this."

"Liam," she said, the word arriving somewhere between a response and just his name being the only available thing.

"Warm," he said, still moving, his lips at her collarbone now. "And smooth. And tight in a way that doesn’t make sense."

"Stop talking," she said, but her legs pulled him deeper as she said it.

He drove forward.

"Oh," she said. "Oh god."

He kept going, the pace building steadily, her sounds climbing with it, the bedroom warm around them and the afternoon light coming through the curtain and Daisy presumably on the couch doing what she always did which was exist peacefully in a world that continued to present her with things she did not fully understand.

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