Page 29 of Coveted By Cupid

His compliment strokes my ego, making me feel like a goddess matching his god.

Carefully, I rotate my hips, testing the waters with slow and deliberate strokes along his length. A little moan of contentment escapes my lips each time he hits my pleasure points deep inside me.

“Christ, you feel amazing,” he grits between his teeth, gripping my hips to help glide me along on his dick faster. “Lose my shirt. I need to see your pretty tits.”

His words flatter me, and I pull his t-shirt over my head as I continue bouncing on his cock. Free of his shirt, I watch his eyes darken, taking me in like I’m the most breathtaking woman he’s laid eyes on. He snakes one hand upward, caressing around my left breast and squeezing.

I gasp from the extra stimulation, bucking my hips faster.

“Perfection,” he whispers musingly, as he watches my breasts and body move.

His eyes meet mine, catching me off guard with how they pierce through me. It’s like he sees all my flaws and still finds me gorgeous. As weird as it seems, I want to believe it—I want to believe I’m all he sees.

My heart clenches in my chest, sending pulses straight to my core like a live wire to my clit, shocking and flooding me with emotions that have no purpose floating around in me—feelings for a stranger who has shown me more care in a handful of hours than all the guys I’ve been with in all my years leading to this moment.

“You’re finally getting it, aren’t you?” he asks, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Getting what?” I ask, panting and unable to look away from the biker in my bed.

“That we’re more than a fleeting thing.”

I hear the words he’s saying, yet they make no sense. Weirder yet, they pull on that invisible thread to my sex, making my insides quiver with want.

“We’re strangers,” I whisper, rocking my hips faster.

With an all-knowing smirk, he says, “Strangers made for each other.”

What in the word porn is this sorcery? These false little declarations of love are causing havoc in my heart. Worse yet, they’re working magic on my body.

A swell of desire rises inside me. I plant my palms on his muscled chest, using it to leverage my weight and ride him for all I’m worth.

Sweat drips down my chest and back, cooling my heated skin and mixing with his on his torso to help me slide along his body. The veins in his neck stand at attention, like he’s fighting to keep himself from losing it too early.

We say nothing else, panting together as I chase my orgasm, bouncing on his dick while he pistons his hips upright into me from below. It’s messy and intense, but oh, so enjoyable.

The smell of our union grows, pluming the air around us in a heated musk and heightening our private moment into something far more intimate than I would have thought possible with someone I’m unfamiliar with.

Through it all, we never once look away from each other, as if the eye contact is keeping us tethered to the present. The only thing to remind us this isn’t a fever dream.

Silently and violently, my climax crashes through me, jolting my body forward on his cock. He catches me before I fall forward and dislodge him.

“Cupid…” I cry softly, my body shaking from the most intense release.

In one swift movement, Cupid shifts me underneath him. His lips capture mine as he continues to thrust into me, prolonging my orgasm. He finishes inside me with a loud moan, the kind of sound that makes a woman melt on the spot. It makes me clench around him, squeezing every drop from his cock.

Warmth fills me, pushing out between us onto my sheets, and I finally wake up from the fantasy.

I gulp. “Oh, my god.”

Cupid’s brows knit together. “What’s wrong, Butterfly?”

I look at him with horror. “We didn’t use a condom.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

VANESSA

Cupid barks a laugh. “Yeah, I noticed, but I wasn’t going to stop you when you were sliding down my dick.”