“Is that so?”
I nodded slightly, the back of my head pressed against the top of his shoulder. I was tall, especially for a woman, and I was nearly the same height as Peytor. Where that would usually intimidate other men, Peytor simply saw it as part of me.
The way he treated me and loved me—so openly and honestly—was something I believed I didn’t deserve. Though Peytor did his best to try and dispel those toxic thoughts.
“Want to show me how beautiful you think I am?” he purred into my ear with a slight nip at my earlobe. Fire shot through my nerves, and I felt myself nodding again as I turned suddenly in his arms, his hands releasing me and resettling on my back once I pressed my chest to his. I gazed into his storm-grey eyes that were darkened with undiluted desire and lust before dropping my gaze to his full lips as I gently stroked the edge of his strong jaw.
He really was a beautiful man.
“Are you waiting for an invitation, my little warrior?” His sensuous lips curved into a lightly teasing smile just as I pressed my lips to his.
I felt a groan build in his chest before he released it, and I caught it with my mouth, swallowing his sounds of pleasure as our lips moved together. Our kisses were never chaste or small—each time we came together, we devoured each other, like it was our first and last kiss.
Tonight, Peytor tasted slightly like the whiskey he’d consumed after dinner. It wasn’t something I usually enjoyed, but I found it was my favorite flavor when it came from his tongue. Our lips slid and danced as Peytor’s hands wound their way up my back, pulling me tighter to him, as if he wanted to meld our bodies together into one.
I answered his urgent kiss with one of my own, gently nipping his bottom lip and swallowing his answering moan. My hand left his jaw to find the hair on the back of his head. Ever since the mines, he’d taken to wearing it short, and this was the longest it’d been in months. I could weave my fingers through it just enough to pull against his scalp, eliciting another groan and a rock of his hips that pushed his hard cock directly onto the outside of my pussy.
“I want—need—to be inside you,” he whispered into my mouth between kisses. “If this is the last night I have with you for gods knows how long, I want to fall asleep with your pussy wrapped around my cock.” A wave of arousal swept through me with his sinful words, and I nodded my agreement.
Our hands were a bumbling mess as we frantically tore at each other’s clothing, desperately trying to be free of their confines, desperate to join together, to feel at ease.
No one calmed me or centered me like Peytor, no one made me feel as safe or as in control as he did, even when I gave him this power.
I pushed my pants and underwear down before quickly stepping out of them, hopping on one foot, then the other, while Peytor made quick work of his shirt and belt. His pants got caught in haste, however, and he growled at the inconvenience.
“Fuck it,” he said and left them hanging around his thighs.
There was something so attractive about that—the fact that he wanted to be inside me so desperately that he still wore his pants.
“Come here, love,” he panted, gesturing with an open palm.
I willingly went to him, twining my arms around his neck as my lips pressed to his for another sensual kiss.
Peytor’s broad hands wrapped around my ass before spreading my cheeks as he hoisted me into the air. My legs wound around his waist, pushing my pussy against his dick as precum wept from the tip.
Shamelessly, I rubbed my wet and swollen core against his length and took great pleasure in the moans the movement elicited.
Peytor nipped at my bottom lip and pulled back slightly.
“I want to watch you when I sink into you,” he whispered. His pupils were blown with arousal, his chest panting with desire as he shifted my weight to one hand and used the other to free his cock from between his body and mine.
He notched the head at my entrance, and I felt just the tip slip in, stretching me slightly.
Peytor closed his eyes on a groan before resting his forehead against mine.
“Peytor,” I practically begged. He was right there, and it felt more like a tease than anything. He rocked his hips minutely, the tip pressing further inside before retreating nearly all the way to rest just at my entrance. I tried to push my hips against his, tried to take the whole of his cock into my body, but he held me tightly, refusing any movement.
“Peytor,” I whimpered, instantly embarrassed by the sound that came out of my mouth.
“I like that I’m the only one that can reduce you to this—that can allow you to beg and be needy. That can give you the space to give up control.” The awe in his voice was palpable, and my heart stuttered at how much this, how much I, meant to him.
“Yes, yes. It’s great,” I panted. “But I really need you to fuck me, Peytor.”
He hummed before pressing the tip of his cock back inside my pussy.
“Make no mistake, Folami. I’ll fuck you like you need to be fucked, but this”—he pushed in another inch—“this is not fucking. This is something more. This is me showing you that it’s okay to need someone else, that it’s okay to let go and simply feel, that it’s okay to want to be owned in a way that makes you feel powerful.”
Peytor pushed in a third inch as I sucked in a ragged breath at his words.
