I smile at how bossy she always is and do as she wishes, nipping the hardened end and giving it a long, hard suck into my mouth. She yelps, then settles into a low, throaty groan, her vibrations rattling me to my very bones. The rigid ache of my cock is almost unbearable now, and all my thoughts are being stolen, directed to my very need to be inside of her.
With borderline desperation, I quickly push her panties to the side. She’s so hot and slick beneath the satin. I grab the base of my cock and straighten up, gripping her hips. Sitting back on my knees, I thrust into her, barely able to control myself.
She feels so good. Always so good. A silky, tight fist that won’t let go.
She cries out, her eyes widening, but I can’t help it. There’s no time to do this gently. There is a fire raging inside me and she’s the only way out of the flames.
I take a firm grip of her thighs, my hands sinking into her soft, smooth flesh, and hold her legs back while I pull out then push myself in again. She’s watching my cock slide in and out of her, and I’m watching too, crazed by the raw, primal sight of our bodies giving each other pleasure and how we fit so perfectly. The giant, quiet man and the wild, tiny girl. Who would have thought that this moment, this us, could have ever happened?
“Please don’t stop,” she says. Her voice is raspy, quiet, and so disarmingly beautiful when I’m turning her on. I could do this until my dying day, just this endless give and take, this exquisite pleasure I get from seeing her features soften, her body respond to me like she’s lucid in a dream. She wants me, all of me, always, and when I give her what I have, what I am, she only wants more.
I don’t stop, but I need to change it up if I want to keep going.
“Lift up, love,” I whisper to her, briefly pulling out and putting my hand beneath her left cheek, rolling her until she’s on her side. I grab her leg, admiring the way her thigh muscles stand out and the flexibility in her joints as she limberly straightens her leg against my body. With my grip on her thigh, I slowly push myself in and out of her, sliding in even deeper than before. I’m hitting a sweet spot, and her mouth is falling open while her eyes pinch closed. She’s soft and aimless as my thrusts become quicker, and I’m reveling in the look of her beneath me.
I slip my hand down to her clit, so swollen, pink, and wet, and begging for my touch. Her body tenses and she lets out a shaking breath as I rub my finger around in taunting, teasing circles, light as air.
She begins to buck into me, wanting more pressure, wanting so badly to come on my dick and my hand. I give in because I’m bloody delirious for her pleasure and because my own thrusts are becoming sharper, quicker, my hips slamming into her at a rate that will make me expire sooner than later.
I can tell she’s close to coming. Her body is shaky with strain, her breaths short and quick. She gets this thing where her lower lip starts to tremble and she has to bite it, almost to the point of bleeding. I like to think it’s because she’s so overwhelmed and trying hard not to let go.
“Over,” I tell her, pulling out again and flipping her over on her stomach. “Hips up.” I scoop her arms underneath her stomach and pull her up until her firm, perky little ass is right in front of me. I wrap my hand around her waist, loving the sight of how small she looks against me, and position myself.
“This is one hell of a way to go through jet lag,” she says softly, her head down and her dark hair spilling forward over her face. I don’t want to let her hide. I reach forward and make a fist in her hair, pulling it back so her neck is arched, her face exposed.
“It’s the only cure,” I tell her, tugging back sharply.
She cries out in a breathy burst of pain and then moans. “Your cock is the cure for everything.”
With one hand pulling on her hair, I lean forward until my damp chest is pressed against her back, my dick so deep inside that we both suck in our breath. I slide one hand over her throat. I tighten my hold, choking her lightly, and put my lips to her ear. “How do I feel?” I whisper, licking up the rim.
Shivers erupt beneath me and I feel her throat moving against the palm of my hand. “Heaven sent,” she manages to say. “You feel heaven sent.” She swallows and I let up the pressure. “Now fuck me. Fuck me and make me come.”
I moan, never tiring of how direct she is, addicted to her own feverish hunger. I circle my hips, my fingers tightening around her neck and hair while my chest slides up and down against her skin. In turn she thrusts her arse back at me, and all thought and reason and sense of self are obscured by her satiny feel, the tight clench around my cock that threatens to take me to another world.
I am but an animal. I piston myself into her, over and over again, the headboard slamming against the wall. I can almost see us from above, me fucking her raw, deep from behind, my muscles flexing as I push in, fast, hard, our skin blistering from such wild need. She’s coming, and her pulse is racing into my palm, wild and delicate. The frenzied, high-pitched cries like she’s being obliterated in the most perverse way completely do me in.
I’m clutching her throat, her hair, and I’m coming. It’s like a sunrise deep inside. It shines right through you and leaves you hot, dizzy, and spent.
Jesus. I don’t even know where I am.
I collapse against her, gasping for breath, burying my face in hair that I already feel holds all my whispered words.
Fuck. She holds every fucking part of me in that little body and big red heart of hers.
I can’t swallow properly and my breath is slow to return. There’s always a moment of clarity after you come, and this one holds an earth-shattering truth.
This woman will own me in the end.
And I’m not sure if I’ll own enough of her to make her stay.
“Fuck,” she says breathlessly after a minute or two of our bodies being fused together, the sweat cooling between us.
“What?” I manage to ask, ever hopeful that she’s going to give me some indication of how she feels about me.
Tell me that you don’t ever want to leave.
Tell me that you’ll stay long enough to let me learn everything there is to know about you.
Tell me that you’re mine.
I’m nearly sick with how needy I sound to myself and I have to dig deep and push it away. Why can’t I just be satisfied that she’s here at all? If it weren’t for the balls I had to ask her to come in the first place, we would already be apart and moving on with our lives separately. That was what was supposed to happen.
But it didn’t. And if she’s greedy, I’m greedier. I’ll never get enough of her.
“You sure know how to welcome me into your home,” she says, turning her head to look at me, her eyes lazy with satisfaction.
“You know it’s the least I can do,” I tell her. I kiss the back of her neck, tasting her skin. Though I had fallen asleep on the plane, it wasn’t the best sleep. I’m so tempted to keep lying here with her, though I know that both of us will be asleep in no time, which will then fuck up the day I have planned for tomorrow.
Somehow I get both of us out of bed and into the shower. I’ve still got just a towel wrapped around my waist when the buzzer goes off. It’s Amara.
“Come on up,” I tell her. Kayla is staring at me nervously in just stretch pants and a tank top. She’s not wearing makeup, and her hair is wet and down around her shoulders.
“She’s already here?” she squeaks. “I’m not even properly dressed.”
I give her a soothing look. “Neither am I. She’s bringing Lionel and she’s an old friend. Believe me, you look fine.”
“Yeah but you look fucking hot in a towel.”
“Listen,” I tell her, not exactly proud of this. “I’ve had my shirt off around her before.” Her eyes widen and I quickly add, “Not in that way. But it comes with rugby, all right?”
She nods just as the knock comes at the door.
I open it and barely notice Amara standing on the other side of the door. All I can see is Lionel, jumping up on me, absolutely losing his mind with delight.