Page 68 of Strum Me

“Not ‘God,’ ‘Brad.’”

“No, God, this is heavenly.”

“It’s a little too dirty for heaven, baby.”

His fingers drag along the inside of me and out again.

I feel him position himself higher up on my body, and in the dark I watch him as his finger, gleaming with my arousal, slides into his mouth. It’s the most erotic moment of my life…thus far.

“Yes, just like I remember,” he teases, winking at me before moving his hand down between my legs again.

The foreplay is almost too much for me to bear. “Shut up and fuck me, Brad!”.

“Not just yet. I’ve been waiting eight years for this. I can wait just a little bit more.”

“But I can’t,” I beg him

I struggle but I manage to move from under him. I push against his chest and he rolls over, lying down, his back against my pillows. Throwing my leg over him, I straddle his hips, pressing down, needing to feel his body against me, against my aching groin.

Bracing my hands against his stomach—God, his rock-hard stomach, rippling under my hands—I look down at his face. He smiles at me, tender even in this moment when all I want is to be ravaged by him in the fiercest way.

I lean over, my hair falling down around us and I pause, our lips barely touching, breathing each other’s breath.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I whisper.

“I’ve missed you right back, my muse.” And those words ripple through me like ice down my spine.

I press my lips hard against his, tasting blood, but I don’t care. My hands fumble between us at his zipper and he reaches down to help me, pushing his jeans and underwear down his legs.

“Wait, in my pocket,” he reminds me.

I reach over and take the foil packet out of his back pocket and tear it open.

His hardness is suddenly in my hands, and I’m sliding my hands down over it, covering him. He arches, the tip of my thumb grazing over the tip of his cock.

“Fuck me, Emily. God, just do it. I want to be inside you.”

The way the words catch in his throat thrills me, the way he wants me, needs me.

I slide my panties aside and lift my hips up, positioning him right where I want him.

“One, two…” I tease him. “Three.” He catches his breath, but I don’t move. His hips arch up and I pull back. The glint in his eyes tells me I’m playing with fire.

“You said not yet,” I tease him.

“Bitch”

“Fucker.”

“I’m trying to be, but you’re being a prude,” he pouts, and the contrast between humor and desire in this moment makes me laugh.

“I’m a what?” I ask him, knowing what’s coming up next.

“You’re a pr—fuckkkkkk.” I slide my body down, taking his cock. All. The. Way.

His hands lift up to support my legs as I start to rock against him.

His cock, like an iron rod, drives deep into me without a breath of friction, like it belongs there.