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“Don’t wait. Oh God, take me, Micah. Take me….”
His cock pushed inside her snug entrance. Their cries mingled as he worked inside her. His hands were tight at her hips as her knees pressed into his. Her nails were dug into his shoulders, and pleasure consumed her with rapacious hunger.
“I have to have you.” He was taking her, thrusting inside her, his hips shifting, rolling, pressing his erection deeper inside her. “Sweet love. Lovely Risa. I can’t breathe for wanting you.”
Another fierce thrust and he was buried deep inside her, a groan tearing from his lips as her muscles enclosed him, flexed against him.
Risa was locked in unbearable pleasure. She could feel the perspiration beginning to build on her skin, felt the heat radiating from his cock, heating her from the inside out as she tried to arch in his arms.
She was so close. Just that fast. Just his kiss, and in a matter of seconds she was so hot and ready for him that he’d had no problem burying himself inside her.
“Oh yes,” he groaned against her neck. “Yes, baby. Take me. I’ve dreamed of this. Hungered for this.”
He was moving and she was dissolving inside. Deep, hard thrusts began to pound his cock inside her, stroking it over nerve endings that blazed to life as he stretched her pussy, stroked inside it, and excited normally hidden nerve endings to violent life.
Risa heard herself crying his name; she felt her nails digging into the cotton of his shirt and trying to get to skin.
A second later he’d ripped his shirt off. The front of her dress was ripped. His lips moved back to her nipples and he thrust, hard and thick, deeper and stronger inside her.
She was a mass of pleasure. She was blazing out of control. She tightened around the heavy length of iron-hard flesh, each stroke pushing her higher, harder.
She was going to come. She could feel it. It was tightening inside her. It was going to destroy her.
“Micah,” she cried his name weakly. “I can’t stand…” She arched again. “Oh yes. Yes. Like that.” He was pumping harder inside her. The slap of flesh against flesh echoed around her. Sensations, heated and too intense to survive, began whipping through her.
“Yes!” Her hands locked in his hair as he sucked her nipple, lashed at it with his tongue. “There. Like that. Like that,” she was crying out her need as he stroked inside her harder, faster.
Desperate, powerful. The pleasure became overwhelming. Spirals of sensations were whipping through her, swirling around her, burning her, pushing her, driving her closer to a brink so intense she was losing her breath in anticipation.
It was there. Building. Tightening. She clawed at his shoulders, strangled cries falling from her lips as his hands gripped her rear, held her in place, and pounded inside her.
When it exploded through her, the darkness she had once feared washed over her, studded with starlight, filled with heat. Her gaze dimmed. She heard the muted wail of her cry, felt her pussy tightening on his shuttling cock and then the wash of an explosion so intense, she wondered if she would lose consciousness.
She heard his broken cry, her name on his lips, then the heavy, fierce jets of his release spurting inside her.
She lost herself in the pleasure, but it was okay, because Micah was holding her. He knew where she was. He was holding her against his body, sheltering her inside the storm, and allowing her to lose herself in a pleasure that had at one time frightened her.
“I love you.” She heard the words at her ear. “Sweet Risa. I love you until I’m dying without you.”
She shook her head. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t leave her. She locked her arms tighter around his neck; she felt him moving her, felt the soft give of the mattress under her back as he rose over her.
Her eyes opened, she watched as he propped his elbows beside her, holding his weight from her as he stared down at her. He stroked her hair back from her face, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Was she dreaming? Was it only a dream that held her beneath him, that felt the fierce throb of his erection still buried inside her?
Her hand lifted, her fingers touched his face.
“You’re really here,” she whispered. “Please be here.”
His eyes closed for a brief, suspended second before they opened and she began to believe.
“No dream,” he promised her. “I’m here, baby.”
He drew back, causing her to gasp as he pulled himself from her.
“You have too many clothes.” His voice was whisper-soft as she watched him.
He pulled the tattered remains of her dress from her, then rose to the side of the bed and undressed himself. His shirt was ruined. Boots thumped to the floor; his jeans were disposed of quickly; then he was back, in the bed beside her.
