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There was no place better to lose herself. The sensations were still a bit frightening, a bit surreal. As though this pleasure were forbidden, and she knew she was being allowed only a few moments of stolen time.
“My Risa,” he whispered against her lips as he rolled her to her back and leaned over her.
He was a dim outline above her, the faint light of dawn barely pressing through the thick drapes that covered the windows. He was a warm shadow above her, around her.
He called her his, and yet he talked of leaving her.
But he was here now. She could memorize the taste and feel of his flesh. She could let his rapid heartbeat sink into her, reassure her.
“Yours.” She couldn’t hold the word back as his lips stroked down her neck, igniting heated flames beneath her skin as he moved to her breast. “Micah,” she sighed his name, and lifted to him as his tongue stroked over her nipple. “Touch me.”
She loved his touch. The feel of his hands moving over her body, parting her thighs. The rasp of his body hair against her sensitive flesh, his lips, teeth, and tongue tormenting the hard tip of her breast.
“I love touching you, Risa.” He lifted his head, his black eyes glittering in the darkness. A gleam of heat, lust, and pleasure that sent a thrill of awakening sensuality rushing through her.
He wanted her. She could feel it.
His cock was pressed at the juncture of her thighs, pressing against the tender bud of her clit as her legs spread wider for him.
“Look how pretty you are.” He leaned back, spreading his legs wide between hers as his hands framed her breasts and plumped them up for her view. “Pretty, sweet nipples. They’re hard and tight for me, Risa. Eager for my touch.”
Her hands shook as she held on to his arms, staring up at him. His expression was intent with pleasure, as though touching her was more than a sexual act.
She was fooling herself with the feeling, and she didn’t care. She’d been without touch, without emotion, for so long that she needed that illusion. She needed to feel it was more to him than just sex, just a warm and willing body.
“Risa, you make me lose my mind,” he groaned as he shifted back.
He lowered one hand and gripped the base of his cock, moving it until it slid through the slick, moisture-rich folds of her sex.
Risa moaned in rising pleasure as she felt her body prepare itself further, felt her pussy grow wetter, slicker for his penetration.
Eyes wide, her breath harsh in the silence of the room, she watched as the broad, glistening head pressed deeper, against the flexing, tormented entrance to her vagina.
She was aching; a flaming need echoed between her thighs as she felt him working inside her in slow, tight thrusts. His hands moved to her hips and he lifted her along the incline of his upper thighs, pressing deeper as whimpering cries fell from her lips.
The feel of the broad, hot crest of his cock working inside her was exquisite. She could feel her muscles stretching, her flesh wrapping around him, revealing nerve endings that were otherwise hidden. They weren’t hidden any longer. They were revealed, throbbing with awareness and so sensitive that each stroke had her crying out in pleasure.
She lifted to him, watching as his erection eased inside, pulled back, her juices gleaming on the heavy flesh before he entered her once again.
He rocked against her, into her. He filled her until she was certain she was overfilled, only to convince her body to take more, to move against him, to ease for him.
“See how pretty, Risa?” he groaned, his voice throbbing with the power of his lust. “I want to take you in front of a mirror. I want you to see your face as I work inside the hottest, tightest pussy I swear I’ve ever known.” His voice tightened as he spoke, echoed with power and pleasure, and sent a rush of excitement spiking through her system. “I want you to see how pretty you are.”
She was shaking, shuddering with the pleasure, with the look on his face, in his eyes. As the faint light of morning began to peek through the few cracks in the shades and drapes covering the window, it seemed to worship his face and the tight planes and angles of his tension-ridden body.
Risa stared up at him, her lips parted as she fought for breath, feeling the wonder of his touch, a gift she couldn’t have imagined ever knowing before him. He gave her passion, he gave her a semblance of self-confidence, and he gave her touch.
Digging her heels into the bed at the sides of his body, she began to move with him. Thrusting into the slow penetrations as wild cries began to build in her chest. The slow undulations were killing her. She needed more. She was close to orgasm, so close. If he would take her harder, deeper, then she could find her release without battling that veil of darkness that tried to slip in, that rocked her senses with such a shock of sensation that she flew outside herself.
Desperation rode her now. She forced her hand from his arm, slid it down her body, and let her fingers find the swollen, tormented bud of her clit as he watched.
“Bad Risa,” he breathed out heavily. “You’re not allowed to cheat, baby.”
But he didn’t stop her. He watched her. His hands tightened on her hips, a grimace pulled at his expression, and his pace increased. Thighs bunching, his abs dewed with perspiration, he thrust harder inside her, working his cock into the flexing desperation of her pussy as Risa cried out in abandon.
She couldn’t have imagined doing this. Stroking herself while he pumped inside her or the intensity of the wicked, erotic sensations that thundered through her veins.
Lifting to him, hips churning and thrusting, her fingers stroking faster over her clit as his cock pounded inside her with stretching, burning strokes.
