Ingrids hand moved to wrap his cock in her hand. She jerked up and down, her eyes looking at him to see if he was liking it or not. "Do you like it?" She asked.

"Yes, but you can use your mouth," Zaeryn said.

She looked down at it, the thought more than tempting. But she was also inexperienced in this so she didn't know if she should even try yet. "I've... never..." she whispered, her voice husky, her gaze fixed on the heavy, pulsing dick in front of her.

"First time for everything," Zaeryn said, his hand moving to her yellow hair, a gentle but firm grip.

That was all the push she needed. Her boldness won. She licked her lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and lowered her head.

The first touch was hesitant, a curious, wet flick of her tongue against the very tip, tasting his precum.

Zaeryn hissed, his hips bucking involuntarily. That sound, that raw reaction, was like a trigger. Ingrid's hesitation vanished, replaced by a greedy, competitive curiosity. She took him into her mouth.

It was clumsy, inexperienced. Her teeth scraped him slightly, but her enthusiasm was hot. Her mouth was wet and tight, and she began to move, her hair brushing against his inner thighs. Zaeryn's hands fisted in her hair, his knuckles white, a low groan rumbling in his chest. He was close, the pressure building with every amateur, passionate bob of her head.

He was right on the edge, his body tensing, about to lose it.

With a surge of will, his hand tightened, and he pulled her head back.

"Wait," he breathed, his voice strained.

Ingrid looked up, confused, her lips glistening, her blue-gray eyes wide and hazy with arousal. "What? Did I... do it wrong?"

"No," Zaeryn growled, his voice thick. He was looking at her, really looking at her, the pierced nipples, the flushed face, the swollen lips. "You did it perfectly." He let go of her hair, his hand dropping to his side. "But it's your turn now."

Ingrid blinked, the words not quite registering. "My... turn?"

He stood, pulling her up with him. His erection was still on full display. He sat back down on the plush couch, his gaze locked on hers. He patted his thighs. "My turn to pleasure you. Sit," he commanded.

Ingrid's eyes widened. A new wave of arousal lit her face. She understood instantly. She removed her pants and quickly turned her back to him, and slowly settled onto his lap, straddling his thighs. Her bare ass pressed against him, her heat settling directly over his throbbing cock.

The sensation of his bare throbbing cock over her dripping pussy drew involuntary moans from her throat. He was just a small move away from entering her and this only made her wetter and eager.

She leaned back, melting against his chest, her head falling onto his shoulder. "Okay, anomaly," she whispered, her voice shaky. "Impress me."

His hands slid up her stomach, over her ribs, until they closed directly over her bare breasts. Ingrid gasped, her body jolting, her back arching. The skin was warm, the pierced barbells cool beneath his palms. He cupped her full, heavy breasts, his thumbs flicking the silver metal.

"Fuck," she breathed, her voice breaking. The sensation was clearly more intense, the metal amplifying his touch. He rolled the piercings between his fingers, tugging gently, and she moaned, her head thrashing on his shoulder. "Don't stop," she demanded, while moving her hips over his cock relentlessly,

While one hand continued to torment her breasts, the other slid down. He didn't bother with her pants; he just hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled them to the side, exposing her. She was already dripping, her clit swollen and obvious.

He wasn't ready to penetrate her, not yet. Instead, he used his fingers and didn't hesitate. He plunged two of them directly inside her, while his thumb found her clit and began to grind in hard, merciless circles. Ingrid screamed, a short, sharp sound, her back bowing off his chest. Her pussy clenched around his fingers, impossibly tight.

He pumped his fingers, his thumb relentless, matching the pace of her ragged breaths. He could hear Genevieve stir on the cushion nearby, a soft, sated moan, but he didn't stop. He leaned in, his mouth closing on her neck, sucking a dark mark into her skin as his fingers worked.

"Zaeryn... please," she begged, her hips rocking back, grinding her clit against his hand, her ass against his straining erection. She was coiling, tensing, about to break.

He pushed her right to the edge, feeling her body lock up.

Then, just as she was about to climax, he stopped his fingers.

"What...?" Ingrid let out a sound of pure, agonized frustration, twisting in his lap. "Why did you stop? Don't stop."

He slid his fingers out, the wet slick sound echoing in the room. He turned her around on his lap, gripping her hips, so she was straddling him, facing him. Her eyes were wild, her lips swollen, her pierced breasts heaving.

"Because," he growled, "that's not how this ends."

He caught one of her nipples between his teeth, drawing a sharp moan from her. She trembled, biting her lip as he guided her hips, the thick, slick head of his cock brushing against her soaked entrance.

He gripped her hips tighter, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs. "Are you ready, Ingrid?" he asked, his thick cock throbbing against her slick entrance, already leaking precum that smeared along her swollen folds.

She didn't utter a word in response. Instead, her stormy gray eyes locked onto his, wild, desperate, burning with an unquenchable fire that mirrored the ache pulsing deep in her core. Her breath hitched, chest heaving as her full breasts rose and fell.

With a deliberate, teasing slowness at first, she shifted her weight, feeling the blunt head of his shaft nudge insistently against her dripping pussy lips, parting them just enough to hint at the stretch to come.

Then, in one fluid, determined motion, she pushed down.

Zaeryn hissed, his back arching off the couch as her tight, virgin walls clenched around him. Her inner muscles gripped him like a hot, velvet vice, the sensation so intense it almost bordered on pain.

Ingrid cried out, a sharp, broken gasp, her body freezing as he stretched and filled her completely. She trembled, her nails digging crescents into his shoulders. She was full. Impossibly, perfectly full.

They both stopped, frozen, panting in the dim, quiet lounge. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the soft, sated sigh from Genevieve on the floor cushion.

Zaeryn's hands, which had been gripping her hips, softened, his thumbs now stroking the skin. He didn't move, just let her body adjust to his, his gaze locked on her face, watching the storm of emotions, pain, pleasure, triumph, pass through her eyes.

A slow, shaky, but undeniably proud grin spread across her flushed face. She looked down at where they were joined, a sight that made her breath hitch again, then looked back up at him.

"Finally," she panted, her voice thick and shaky. "I... I have you inside me."

He let out a long breath, his own voice rough. "Yeah, you do." He didn't move yet, as he was just content to be buried deep inside her, feeling her pulse around him.

Ingrid's eyes fluttered shut, her lip caught between her teeth as a fresh wave of sensation, just from being full, rolled through her. "Damn," she whispered, a single tear of pleasure escaping to trace a path down her temple. "Don't... don't move. Not yet. I just want to feel this... I want to cherish this."

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