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Graham felt as though a vise were tightening around his balls, the tortured need to spill inside her, naked, without the latex between them, making him crazed. He’d never wanted to take a woman bare, but forcing himself to roll the condom over his flesh was like a bitter dreg of resentment.
The thought of spilling inside her, of watching her body bloom with his child, suddenly filled his head, sliced at his chest until he was forced to push it away.
Now was no time for the ever-deepening need for this woman, and it certainly wasn’t the time for a child.
With the condom firmly in place he let his fingers slide through the swollen folds of her pussy, gathering the slick excess of her juices to assure himself she was still ready for him.
Her release had milked his dick until holding back his own release had been next to impossible. Feeling her flesh milking his cock, rippling over the sensitive head, sucking at the cum building in his balls, had been the most pleasure he’d ever known in his life.
“Turn over for me.” Lifting her he moved her until he had her breasts pressed into the mattress, her hips lifted for him, the clenched, snug little entrance of her pussy waiting for him. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned. “Give me that sweet pussy just like this.”
Holding her hips with one hand, he used the other to guide the broad flesh into place. He watched as his flesh parted the flushed, slick flesh and began pressing inside. Watched as she stretched around him, her cries filling his senses as the snug muscles began to grip him, milk him inside her, lashing his flesh with heated ripples despite the covering of the condom.
God, he wanted to go slow. He wanted to ease in. Wanted to relish every sensation.
The hard, desperate thrust inside her tightly clenched cunt shocked him. He was buried to the hilt, her flesh tight around him, stroking his cock, tearing past his control.
“That’s it,” he groaned as her hips rolled beneath him, causing her inner muscles to stroke him tighter, to ripple exquisitely around him. “That’s it, baby, fuck me back. Give it to me, Lyrica.”
The sharp clench of her tissue nearly had his cum shooting past his control.
She liked the raw, sexual words, he realized. Or was it the sound of tortured pleasure in his voice that had her pussy clenching so tightly on him?
Whatever it was, he couldn’t fight the lust pounding through him, the imperative need to pound inside her until he drew her release from her again. Until he could give her his.
Holding her hips, he watched his flesh shuttling fast and furious, penetrating and retreating, fucking into her with desperate strokes as her cries began to fill the air around him. She strained beneath him, her hips rocking back to him, her fingers clenched desperately in the blankets beneath her.
He was too fucking close.
Fighting for breath, for control, he slid his thumb into the narrow crevice of her rear, found the incredibly sensitive entrance there, already slick from her juices as they spilled from her pussy.
“Graham,” she cried out in shock as he pressed his thumb into her, feeling the flesh part, the burning grip on his thumb transferring to his cock as her pussy clenched and spasmed, her body tightening as a wail of ecstasy escaped her lips.
The milking heat of her inner walls tightening around his cock triggered his own release. Her anus clenched at his thumb, sucking at it as her pussy sucked at his dick, her release raining over the latex-covered flesh.
Burying himself deep, he clamped his teeth over the low growl that escaped him, electricity racing up his spine before tearing back down it and striking at the depths of his balls.
The first agonizingly rapturous jerk of his cock shredded his senses. His seed spilled from his body as he pumped inside her, jetting harshly in response to the heated slide of her juices spilling along his latex-covered flesh, the gripping muscles rippling around his cock.
Burying himself deep inside her, he let the steady, hard pulse of his cum spill from him. Each lash of pleasure burned at his senses until he collapsed against her. His breathing was rough, agonized. Sensation still coursed through his senses, rasped over his flesh. Beneath him, the shudders of her own release still trembling through her body, Lyrica’s little sobs of pleasure dug sharp talons of another, unfamiliar need inside his chest.
Never in his sexual history had he known anything so brutally hot, so exquisitely pleasurable as fucking this small, too innocent young woman through the near-violent orgasms that had gripped her.
Nothing had ever affected him more, either.
Drawing from her, his knees still weak, Graham grimaced at the tangle of denim around his legs. Hell, he hadn’t even taken his jeans off, and working them free of his body now was almost impossible.
Long moments later, fully naked, he forced himself to the bathroom, where he disposed of the condom before running warm water over a hand towel and wringing it tightly into the sink.
He didn’t pause to consider what he was doing. He didn’t even think about it until he’d eased Lyrica to her back and gently wiped the perspiration from her body. He was parting her legs, the cloth cleaning the smear of blood from her inner thighs before he realized he was doing something he’d never done before for any other woman.
He was taking care of her. Easing her. Claiming her.
Son of a bitch, he’d had no intention of claiming her when this began.
He had no right to claim her.
Hell, this wasn’t supposed to happen.
