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He turned me so I faced the giant mirror, its luster diminished but still bright enough to show my body’s potent reaction to this astonishingly sexy man. Nipples a lot perkier than I felt, hair the wrong side of sexy tousled.
“You need to see how beautiful you are, Precious. How powerful.”
“Huh?”
“I want to look at your reflection while I fuck you senselessly.”
Trailing a blunt hand along the border of my shorts, he tested the boundaries. I shuffled my feet apart. His grin turned disgracefully wicked.
“Do you want to direct?”
“No, just do it right. Make it good.”
He bit down on my earlobe, a tender puncture to that sensitive flesh, then yanked my shorts halfway down my thighs so roughly I gasped at the contrast. How was he going to fuck me now and expect me to walk in heels properly all night?
Moisture flooded my sex at the thought of what would come next. One strong forearm banded beneath my breasts while his other hand tunneled through my tawny curls, parting my swelling folds to where I was already shockingly hot and slick. Reaching up, I cupped the back of his head and set anchor. He kissed my wrist over my rocketing pulse.
Dillon made my heart rate exceed the limits. He fumbled my brain and overall messed up my head. All the time.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered.
He slid a finger inside me. Then, giving me the intimate stretch I needed, a mind-melting two.
“You really need this, don’t you? You need me deep inside you, baby.”
“Yes. God, yes.” Every fluid thrust massaged my clit perfectly on the return and increased the spirals of want low in my belly. The raging evidence of his own need jutted into my spine.
“There, right there.” I grasped his hand and pressed it closer to where I needed it.
“Don’t stop, Precious. If you need to tell me what makes you feel good, do it. I’m yours.”
Thoughts vaporized. Muscles dissolved. Desire flew loose in my core as those words smashed me senseless.
“I need…” God. I couldn’t finish the statement aloud. He was too good, too rough, it was great. I’m floating on a cloud of pure bliss.
“What, baby? Tell me what you need.”
This. You. Everything you have.
“You.”
“Like that?” He asked in an assertive and sure tone. He definitely knew he was pleasing me and getting me to my climax soon, but he also loved getting praised.
“And my breasts. Squeeze my nipples.”
His meaty paw yanked away, then replaced, the triangle of fabric over my aching breast. He covered me easily, molding my soft flesh to his rough ministrations.
“Please, Dillon,” I begged. “More.”
Another bite on my earlobe, a further pinch of my nipple, and he adapted quickly to my raw, desperate needs. “Watch yourself cum,” he whispered roughly in my ear.
I swallowed. Hard. He took his free hand, turning my face to the mirror.
“Look how perfect you are. How you shudder for me. How your eyes roll.”
An invisible thread of pleasure shot straight to my sex and produced another gush of pleasure on his hand. The blatant look of male satisfaction on his face said he approved.
Faster, he rubbed against that taut bundle of nerves, drawing the blistering sensation to a peak. All I could do was writhe. And watch. And feel. His much more tan skin against my lightly pair flesh, heightened our contrasts, yet also showed how well we complemented each other. I stood cradled in his arms, naked, a sleazy mess, which made it filthier and sexier and so, so good.
