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Oh. My. God.
Okay.
Yeah.
I was pretty close to groaning out 'take me, take me' for real.
I swallowed hard, clenched my thighs together, and attempted a smirk that I was pretty sure came out a bit wobbly. “All talk,” I teased, watching as his brows lowered over his eyes, making them look hooded and even sexier than they usually did.
Then he was using my hair to drag me back onto my feet. The sensation at once painful but so erotic I felt my mouth falling open on a silent moan.
He tugged my hair hard to the side, leaning close to my ear. “Hands on the counter,” he growled, then released me roughly, making me stumble back a foot. When I didn't immediately move to do as told (because I was too stunned and turned on and confused to do anything but stare at him), he took a warning step forward, brow raised. “Do I need to repeat myself?”
I shook my head, turning, and slapped my hands down on the cool counter.
“Spread your legs,” he said and I could feel his eyes raking over my body from behind. Steeling my stomach against the rolling embarrassment I felt at that instruction, I pushed my feet apart. “Wider,” he said and I pushed them wider, leaving my legs wider than hip-width. “Good girl,” he murmured, the sound practically a rolling purr off his lips and I felt his approval like a warm blanket.
I felt rather than heard him moving, the air around him seeming charged as he got closer. His hands moved to span my hips, sinking in my skin in a delicious way that made my head tilt backward and hit his shoulder. But then he was moving. As in down. Like... onto his knees. I had the barest of seconds to feel the mortified objection form in my mind before his tongue slid up my cleft and found my clit, making my entire body jolt, my hands curling into fists on the cold counter.
Because... holy shit.
My inner thighs wobbled as his lips closed around the sensitive bud and sucked hard, a strangled groan rushing out of my throat.
“Oh my god...” I whimpered, arching my ass up, giving him better access.
But then the contact ended and he was moving to stand. His hand traced down my spine, sending a shiver through my system.
“Don't move,” he said, his voice firm.
“Where are...” I started to ask, turning to look at him.
His hand grabbed the back of my head, pushing it to face away from him. “I said don't move,” he said again and I nodded.
Then he was moving. I didn't turn to look. But soon he was in my line of vision, walking across the living room toward his bedroom and giving me a delicious view of his perfect, muscular ass as he did so.
He walked back out a few seconds later, his head lifting to me, his eyes raking over the view of me bent over the counter. I drank in the view too, from the tops of his wide shoulders to that deep, deep V of his Adonis belt, to his straining cock, to his muscular thighs. He was just... perfect. Every inch. My eyes went to his hand, seeing a silver condom foil, the reason he left me, and I felt a rush of relief.
Because I had somehow forgotten all the horror stories from my high school sex ed classes and would have probably let him go in raw and risk god-knew what.
Thank god one of us was thinking straight.
He walked up behind me, making quick work of the condom before I felt his hips pushing into my ass so his cock slid between my thighs, making my ass arch up and start to rub against him. His hands slid up my sides, snaking around to my belly, moving upward until his calloused, hard palms covered my breasts that seemed to grow heavy at the contact, my nipples hardening painfully as he started to roll them between his fingers. His chin shifted, the side of his face brushing my hair out of the way before his lips went to the skin of my neck, sucking hard. At that second, his cock slid up and hit the sweet spot, making an unexpected orgasm slam through my system, my breath catching.
“You say my name when you come,” he said against my neck, hands digging into my skin.
“Breaker,” I strangled out, feeling my legs shake as the pulsations started to waver off.
“Good girl,” he murmured.
One of his hands splayed between my breasts, the other slid down my stomach, brushing over my suddenly too-sensitive clit, and guiding himself. I felt his cock press against the entrance for a long second, long enough for me to genuinely worry about his size, before he thrust forward, in one swift motion burying deep.
A half-gasp, half-groan escaped my lips because there was pain. Not the sharp stabbing I was expecting, but a hot, burning sensation as he stretched me to my limit. He paused, buried deep, his warm breath near my ear. “Relax,” he said, sounding tense. “Don't tense up on me,” he went on, his hips rocking against me, not quite thrusting, but pulsing inside me, getting my body used to the sensation.
I took a deep breath, letting my head fall back on his shoulder, closing my eyes, letting myself work past the discomfort, letting it slide away until a slow building pleasure replaced it. My breathing became more shallow, but faster. My hips started moving by their own mind.
“Remember what I said about how I fuck?” he asked, sounding strained.
I wet my lips with my tongue before I answered, my voice coming out breathy. “Hard,” I recalled.
“Hard,” he agreed. “Spread your arms out wider,” he instructed. “Brace yourself.”
I slid my arms across the surface of the counter, surprised when his hands closed down on top of mine, pinning them in place.
And then there was no thinking.
Because his cock was slamming into me.
Hard, as promised.
I had expected more of the hot, burning sensation.
