*Isabella's POV*
His hands slid down my sides, his fingers hooking into the sides of my lace panties. He tugged, and I lifted my hips to help him, the flimsy fabric joining my dress on the floor. I was completely bare, spread out on his kitchen counter, and the vulnerability of it all sent a fresh wave of heat through me.
He didn't say a word.
His hands gripped my thighs, pushing them wide open, exposing my dripping wet pussy to his gaze. He leaned in, and I felt the first, tentative flick of his tongue against my clit. I cried out, my hands flying to his hair, my fingers tangling in the soft strands. He took his time, exploring me with his mouth, his tongue tracing my folds, tasting me. It was slow, torturous, and so fucking good.
Then he found my entrance, and he pushed his tongue inside, fucking me with it in slow, deliberate strokes. I was squirming on the counter, a mess of desperate moans and pleas. He slid one finger inside me, then another, curling them upwards until he found that spot, my fucking g-spot. He pressed against it as he sucked my clit into his mouth, and the combination was too much.
The pressure built, a tight, coiling heat in my stomach that grew hotter and hotter with every flick of his tongue and every stroke of his fingers. "Jacob... fuck, don't stop," I gasped, my hips bucking against his face. He just groaned against my pussy, the vibration sending me over the edge.
My orgasm ripped through me, a violent, shattering wave of pleasure that made my whole body convulse. I cried out his name, my back arching off the counter as wave after wave of pure, unadulterated bliss washed over me. He didn't stop, lapping up my juices, prolonging my pleasure until I was a boneless, panting mess, completely and utterly spent.
He rose slowly from his knees, his chin glistening with my arousal, a dark, predatory smile on his face. I was still trying to catch my breath, my body trembling with the aftershocks, but the look in his eyes told me we were nowhere near done. He unfastened his pants, letting them and his briefs pool around his ankles. His dick sprang free, hard and thick. He tore open a condom packet with his teeth and rolled it on in one smooth, practiced motion.
Then he was on me again, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me to the very edge of the counter. He positioned himself at my entrance, He pushed inside me slowly, inch by torturous inch, his eyes locked on mine, watching my face as he filled me completely. It was deep, so fucking deep it stole my breath, yet it was gentle, a passionate, deliberate claiming.
I leaned back, resting on my elbows on the cold granite, my body arching to meet him. As he began to move, his thrusts were slow and deep at first, a steady, captivating rhythm that made my toes curl. My hands roamed up my own body, my fingers finding my nipples, rolling and pinching them, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my pussy where he was fucking me so thoroughly.
"Fuck, Jacob," I moaned, my voice loud and uninhibited. "Don't stop."
He groaned in response, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming deeper, more powerful. The sound of our bodies slapping together, my loud, desperate moans, and his low, guttural grunts filled the room. The pressure built again, a tight, coiling heat in my stomach, and then it snapped. My second orgasm ripped through me, making me cry out, my back arching off the counter as my pussy clenched around his cock.
But he didn't stop. He pulled out, leaving me feeling empty and aching for a split second before he lifted me off the counter as if I weighed nothing. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he spun around and pinned me against the cool, smooth wall of the hallway. He drove into me again, hard and deep, this new angle hitting my G-spot with every slow punishing thrust. I was completely at his mercy, my body pinned between the hard wall and his hard body, and it was fucking intoxicating.
"Jacob! Oh, fuck, yes!" I screamed, my moans echoing in the vast space. He buried his face in my neck, his teeth grazing my skin as he pounded into me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge again. The third orgasm was even more intense than the first, a blinding, white-hot wave of pleasure that made me see stars.
Still, he wasn't done. He carried me, his cock still buried deep inside me, into the living room, gently laying me down on the plush, white couch. He followed me down, covering my body with his, his movements a little slower now, more deliberate. He propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at me, his eyes dark with a raw, primal hunger. He started to move again, his thrusts deep and passionate, his hips rolling against mine in a way that made my whole body shriek.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down for a searing kiss, my moans swallowed by his mouth. This was it. This was the final push. He was hitting every spot, every nerve ending, driving me absolutely wild. The forth orgasm built slowly, a creeping, all-consuming fire that started in my toes and spread through my entire body. When it finally hit, it was a shattering, soul-crushing release that left me a sobbing, whimpering mess beneath him.
He groaned my name, his body tensing as his own orgasm finally ripped through him. He stilled, his cock pulsing inside me as he came, a low, guttural sound escaping his lips.
He stayed there for a moment, his body heavy on mine, our ragged breaths the only sound in the room. Then, he pulled out, carefully disposing of the condom. He looked down at me, my body sprawled across the couch, spent and trembling. He didn't say a word. He just leaned down, placed a soft, gentle kiss on my forehead, and then he turned and walked away, leaving me there, a beautiful, used-up mess, to recover from the best fucking night of my life.