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So good.
Every single slash of his hips electrifies me when he’s so thick; the flare of his cockhead teases me just right and rips cries from my body.
God, I want more.
More.
I spread my legs wider, clawing at the sheets, writhing to meet him and trying to take him so much deeper.
So deep I’ll feel the veins of his cock for days.
When I walk, when I sit, even when I move.
I want to feel used by this gorgeous man.
I want to pulse with the memory of him pounding me until I’m sore in all the best ways.
Thankfully, he’s relentless.
Taking me harder, harder, forcing me down on the bed and still keeping my ass up and presented to him, but he pushes my head down on the sheets in utter dominance.
The change in position makes his cock hit different, deeper, hammering delicious friction in this one spot that acts like a detonator.
When he hits it again—
Foly huck!
I can’t tell where the lightning ends and my orgasm begins, leaving me thrashing, gasping, coming so hard, so much.
I’m completely flooded, and I still want more.
I want to be full.
I want him.
I want his lust.
I want his love.
I want him, knowing that loving me means he can feel safe enough to let me know his deepest, truest savagery.
Knowing he’ll fuck me like a depraved beast and then hold me tenderly when it’s over. After he’s done.
After he’s used my body to sweet perfection.
And I realize I won’t be sleeping tonight.
Because he’s not ready to come.
Not for a few more sheet-ripping minutes.
While his manic thrusts are already quickening, pushing me past the edge again, his cruel hands slip between my legs to pinch my clit and taunt me and make me realize what he’s doing.
He’s going to string me along all night.
Make me come again and again before he finally gives me himself.
He’ll make me feel cherished—and then he’ll destroy me with his love.
