Page 121 of Pretender

I cry out, louder and louder, I’m close, and it’s so deep. The heat spreads from somewhere inside, and then it erupts—searing up through my stomach, down my legs, and for a moment I’m nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Aiden grabs a hold on my arse cheeks, sucking and licking while I quiver, until I fold over onto the side.

“Wow,” I pant.

“Wow, indeed,” Aiden says from my side and I turn my face to look at him. He has my arousal on his chin, and I laugh, wiping it off.

“You are amazing,” I say. “I feel like a different person.”

“This is all you, Linnea.”

“It’s us,” I say, turning onto my side to face him, and he stretches out a hand, caressing my curve and hip.

“Us,” he repeats.

“Can I make you come now?” I ask, grabbing his cock in my hand and slowly slide down. I want to lick the tight head. Make him groan the way he does.

“Hold on.” He moves to the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands. His erection stands tall, taut and dripping with pre-cum. All ready for me. “This way will be good for you,” he says, and I trust whatever he has in mind. He knows my vagina better than I do by now.

“Oh, the other way around?” I ask, and he nods. “But I won’t see your gorgeous orgasm face. I love that face.” It’s only when he freezes with his mouth half-open that I realise what I said. It’s a turn of phrase, that’s all.

Just keep smiling.

“Turn the mirror this way,” he says, gesturing to his cheval mirror by the dresser on the opposite wall.

“I like the way you think,” I say and check the angle from where he sits on the edge of the bed. He’s had an erection for a very long time now, poor man. I grab a condom from the bedside table and roll it on with both hands.

“I love your cock.” Whoops, there it is again. “It’s majestic,” I add, pretending I didn’t just say that word twice. He chuckles, but his eyes are droopy, his jaw slack. He didn’t notice.

“Turn around,” he growls.

“Turn around, what?” I say, standing in front of him, biting my lip.

“Please?” There’s that delicious smile again.

“Good boy.”

He laughs, and I do as he says. He scoots to the very edge of the mattress and guides me down, my arse against his stomach, lining his cock up with my still-slick entrance. I need to push his cock and lean back to get him inside at this angle, but I inch down slowly, relishing the feeling of him stretching me out.

His breath on my neck, his hands roaming my skin, and the tightness as he fills me up… It’s everything. Then I start moving up and down, and I realise why he wanted me facing this way. His cock hits where he was working his fingers earlier, and after three near-orgasms and one big one, I’m seriously tender. So sensitive.

“Oh God,” I breathe.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice strained. Fuck, he must be holding on for dear life.

“I’m more than okay. This is it, Aiden. This angle. All this…” I can’t talk. I move where I need it, slowly up and down, leaning forward slightly. My legs are burning already, but I need to push through. Aiden grunts and groans and it’s so fucking sexy watching him in the mirror. The way his jaw’s slack, and then he bites his lower lip, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallows.

The tingling starts deep inside, and I’m about to cry.

It’s happening.

I keep moving.

“Right there,” I moan, meeting Aiden’s eye in the mirror. “It’s so good.”

He rolls his hips as I move down, he’s deeper than ever, and we keep going slow, grinding his cock inside me. The heat in my lower belly uncoils. It’s growing, swelling, and then it bursts through me as if all the orgasms I never had hit me all at once. I let out a loud cry as the waves crash over me, and Aiden wraps his arms around me, thrusting into me—he’s losing control of his rhythm, but it doesn’t matter. Every thrust, every move, every inch of him touching me is like fireworks. The pleasure and warmth radiate through my body, into my fingertips, through my tired legs. I lean my head back on Aiden, and he lays us down on the bed, rolling sideways. He holds me tight, breathing hard, his stomach against my back, his thighs against mine, and my mind is still.

A tickle on my temple makes me rub it away, and it occurs to me it’s a tear. Jesus, what a ride. Literally.

“You did it,” he whispers, and that’s when it starts for real.