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Topic forgotten, I do as he says, using the armrest of the couch to prop my head. The couch bounces a little as he shifts, hooks his fingers under my shorts, and slides them down in such a sensual way that goosebumps rise across my thighs.
“Take your shirt off,” he orders again, but this time, his voice is deep and husky, and damn it if it doesn’t do something to me.
He drops my shorts and underwear beside the couch as I lift myself up a little, taking off my shirt and bra and gently setting them on the ground.
Naked before him, the chill of the room caresses my skin while his eyes rake over my body. Heat flashes in his gaze before it settles on my face. My clit throbs at the attention, at the way he’s looking at me from the other end of the couch.
He lifts a leg onto the cushion in a bent position to better angle his body, and then his hands slide up my ankles, over my knees, and down my thighs. I shiver when the rough skin of his fingers brush against my throbbing clit while his other hand pushes my knees further apart, baring myself to him. I don’t know if he’s even aware that he’s doing it, but his tongue darts out to lick the corner of his lips like he’s imagining what I taste like. But there’s no room for us on this couch for him to put his lips on my pussy, and he seems to know that because, instead, he slides a finger through my slit and carefully pushes it inside me.
I moan at the intrusion as he murmurs, “So wet, sweetheart.”
He pulls out his finger, and a protest rests on my lips, but whatever I was going to say quickly flees. An expert, drenched finger starts to circle my clit. My thighs quiver around his arms, but he keeps them apart, a silent order. Ademand. A promise that he’ll let me cum as long as I do what I’m told.
Lifting myself slightly, I get a good look at what he’s doing to me. The sight of him playing with my clit in slow small strokes nearly has me coming undone.
Unable to help myself, I skate a hand over my breast and pinch my nipple. My head tips back, bumping the armrest as I moan.
The hand that was holding my thigh apart moves up my stomach and slides under my hand. He gently pulls my fingers off my nipple and replaces them with his own. The way his fingers tweak, flick, and pull, shoot electric shocks straight to my pussy.
“Oh my god,” I say as my eyelids flutter for a moment before I return to watch what he’s doing to me.
The way he’s transfixed on my pussy, the way my body reacts to what he’s doing to me, is the stuff an ordinary girl would dream about. It’s like he can’t get enough until he gets what he wants – me cumming all over his fingers. And even then, I don’t think that’ll be enough for him. The way his cock strains against his jeans tells me otherwise.
He gathers himself on his knee and leans over me, his finger never leaving my clit, never deterring from his mission. The hand that was playing with my nipple skims along my collarbone until his fingers are circling my throat. He constricts my airway just enough to make it a little hard to breath and the blood to be semi-trapped in my face. And then he bends his head forward and sucks my nipple into his mouth.
My back arches off the couch, pushing my breast into his face, and I moan his name. The muscles in my thighs quiver around his hips, but he doesn’t stop. His finger flicks at the same time as his tongue against my nipple, and it takes everything I have to not writhe against him. Not thathe’d complain about that, but he’d stop what he’s doing, and I can’t have that. Not when I’m so close. Not when the fire is burning in my belly, waiting to release an orgasm from hell.
Head whipping back and forth, barely able to contain how lit my body is, how attuned it is to everything he’s doing, my mewls and moans are strangled against his hand. My hips start to buck, and with one hum against my breast, I shatter.
I’m positive that if I had neighbors, they’d hear my scream. Everything - my pussy, my body, even my thoughts - constrict and explode in a wave of pure, utter bliss. For a moment, I see little green stars in my vision, but he rides me out, waiting until the last drop of cum seeps out of me.
My body slacks against the couch, and I really fight for air against his hand. He releases my neck, letting me take in a much-needed breath, while he unbuttons his jeans. The way he pushes down his jeans isn’t hurried. It isn’t slow. It’s confident and sure.
Saliva pools in my mouth, and my pussy clenches at the sight of his cock once it springs free. With one hand resting against the armrest of the couch, right by my head, he slides an arm underneath me and raises me to his cock’s level. It’s a complete fucking turn-on, the way his muscles bunch in his arm as he lifts me. I know I’m no small girl, and to have a man who can handle me . . .
He notches himself at my entrance and watches my pussy swallow him whole as he pushes inside. I suck in a sharp breath at the familiar sting of my walls stretching for him. At the same time, he groans, his fingers digging into the fabric of the armrest. He pulls my hips up higher, pushing even deeper inside me until I feel so damn full that my thoughts completely flee from my mind and my mouth falls wide open.
And then he’s moving, pulling in and out with a lazy ease. Needing to feel him, I slip my hands under his shirt and grip the muscles of his back. They contract under my hands as he pumps into me. I hang on tight as he picks up his pace, our groans matching as his cock rubs just the right place. The sounds of our pleasure, of our bodies joining, fill the room, and together, we watch as his cock disappears and reappears from inside me. The stretch, the pressure against my g-spot . . . it’s almost too much.
He glances up at me from under long lashes and growls, “Cum for me, sweetheart. All over me.”
My breathing picks up pace as the command he gives me only heightens my arousal. On their own accord, my hips start thrusting, meeting him every time he pushes inside. I start chasing that second orgasm, and at this point, my entire body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat. The heat coursing through my veins is intense, so intense that it matches the flames in my lower abdomen, waiting to be released.
He grits his teeth, and I know that he’s as close as I am. The hand against the couch moves and collars me. He puts some weight into it, and every instinct in me tells me to fight back, but I don’t because, even though I have instincts, it gives me intense pleasure to know that, yet again, my life is in his hands. The hands of someone who has killed before. The hands that belong to a man that I know would die before he saw anything bad happen to me.
And knowing this, knowing I’m at his mercy - my pussy, my pleasure, my life - I open my mouth to scream as my orgasm nearly breaks me in two.
“Fuck,” he barks out. He picks up his pace, sliding faster in and out of me as my pussy clenches tightly around him. My vision starts to blacken, but, like all the other times, he seems to know and releases me.
I ride the rest of my orgasm while he grabs both of my hips and pounds into me, groaning and finding his own release. His head tips back as he pumps his cum into me, his cock twitching.
We come down from our high at the same time and meet each other’s gaze while our chests heave for breath. He takes me in, my face, my hair, my neck, and smiles a little. “Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs.
I’ll never get sick of his displays of affection. For some odd reason, it means more coming from him than any other person I’ve met or dated before.
I gasp as he slowly pulls out of me. Cum starts to dribble down, but he’s quick in grabbing my shirt from the floor and cleaning me up. When he’s done, he helps me back into my shorts and then lifts his ass to yank his jeans back up.
“I think we’ve fucked on every surface of this house,” I say, a giggle punctuating it.
