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My hands explored his body, moving down his arms, his back, his ass, savoring the flex and strain of his muscles as he thrust.
“You okay, baby?” he asked, sweeping a few damp strands of hair from my forehead.
“I’m more than okay.”
“Fuck, Georgia, you look so perfect like this. Here. Under me.” His eyes turned fierce and determined, like he wanted to make me lose control, completely turn my world on its head.
My body started to shake as he sped up, only to whimper in taut frustration when he slowed down again.
“Do you trust me, baby?”
I didn’t even have to think about the answer.
“Yes. God, yes. I trust you.”
“I want to show you how good it can be when there’s no rush.” He kissed me, sucked on my lips, my tongue, stealing every one of my sounds into his mouth and swallowing them greedily.
And God, I loved his hoarse noises, how he kept telling me how beautiful I was, how good this felt, how hard he was. I loved how he took control and knew the exact way to drive me wild.
“I want to do this for hours and hours, but fuck, you’re too much. It’s too much.” He shifted his pace—lazy morphing into quick and hungry. “Tell me how good it feels,” he ground out, pressing his face into my neck. His voice was demanding, but he wasn’t chasing my climax so hard for himself. He was doing it for me.
All I could do was nod, too consumed with desire to answer. I gripped his ass, my nails digging into the toned flesh.
“Good, because I’m going to make you feel even better,” he swore. “I’m going to make you lose your fucking mind.”
He slid out of me, spurring a distraught moan to slip past my lips.
He gripped my thighs and moved his face between my legs before I could stop him. His mouth consumed me—sucking and licking and tonguing at my pussy until my orgasm started to build at an explosive pace beneath my skin. Warmth spread across my body, a thin sheen of sweat following its lead. Unintelligible words escaped my lips as I started to come.
“That’s my wild girl. Let me watch you catch fire,” he said, continuing to take me over the edge.
I squeezed my eyes closed, mouth falling open, body bowing off the bed. I didn’t just come. I screamed, exploded, burst into flames.
Time. Location. My name. Those things didn’t exist, my senses too consumed by what Kline was doing to me.
He moved back up the bed, gripping my thigh and pushing my knee to my shoulder, spreading me wide open for his straining cock. He pushed inside of me with ease and started fucking me deep, dragging in and out at the most mind-blowing pace.
He propped himself up on his hands, staring down at where he moved in me. “Fuck, it’s so good.”
Moving one hand between us, he rubbed my clit. “I need to feel you come around my cock.”
“I don’t think I can. It’s too much already.”
He didn’t let up, determined. “Yeah, baby, you can. Come on my cock.”
I whimpered.
“Let go.”
I was his instrument and he had mastered the skill of making me sing. My body arched into his touch, my hips rocking faster with his. “Kline… I… Oh… God…”
“Fuck yes, give me one more.” His eyes focused on his hand moving over me, his cock sliding in and out.
I closed my eyes, my mind drowning in pure sensation.
My thighs quivered, my pussy tightening rhythmically around him, and my hips threatened to cramp up from the strain. A surprised cry escaped my lungs as I came hard and fast. My head was thrown back into the pillow, and I gripped his ass, pulling him forward while he rocked into me.
His eyes squeezed shut, lips parted as he chased his own release. His hair was mussed up, sweat wetting his brow. And God, his eyes, they were fierce and hooded with his impending climax.
“I want to feel you come.” I gasped, dragging my nails down his back. I needed to see him lose control, needed to feel his body when he came.
He stared down at my breasts that were moving with the force of his thrusts. His skin was sweaty and perfect, and I wanted to lick it off with my tongue. And when he looked up and met my eyes, I watched him lose control.
The moment felt like a dream—everything slowing down so I could imprint every second on my brain. His mouth moved in slow motion with each soft grunt, each guttural moan. And his movements echoed that I was seeing the real thing.
This was real. We were real. My feelings, his feelings, even though they hadn’t been said out loud, they were real. Deep down, I knew—he was it. My person. My soul’s infinitely interesting counterpart.
“Let’s stay here, wrapped up in one another until the sun burns out,” I whispered into his ear, once his body had stilled and my burning lungs had cooled enough to fill with breath.
