Page 63 of Weston’s Treasure

Millions of tiny pieces.

“Fuck,” he growled, and shoved his face in my neck.

He was still fucking me rough, my orgasm still pulsing through me, not letting up, or maybe a new one was building, maybe I was floating or dreaming, because nothing could feel this good.

“Please,” I moaned. So delirious I wasn’t sure what I wanted or needed.

His hand moved under my ass, lifting it off the bed, tilting it, the new angle making him go deeper and my body locked tight and something so magnificent tore through me it couldn’t be called an orgasm, it was something else, something more. I didn’t just feel it in my pussy, or my womb, or my belly, I felt it all over. A full-body experience that left my hair tingling and the rest of me on fire.

“Weston!” I screamed, unable to hold back. I shook, my hips bucked, trying to prolong the sensation.

As the orgasm started to leave I couldn’t stop the whimper. Weston heard it, squeezed my ass, and planted deep, groaning his orgasm.

“Silver, baby.” His words sounded painful, like they were ripped from his soul as he spilled into me.

I felt that, too. Every shot of come as his cock twitched and pulsated.

It might have been seconds, or minutes, or an hour later. However long it was, I wished it had been forever. Me lying under Weston, both of us catching our breath, coming down from a high so high, even in my limited experience I knew it was not normal.

Weston started to slowly stroke in and out, his hand that had been on my ass now on my thigh, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth.

“Goddamn,” he muttered against my neck. “Knew you’d be perfect. Knew it before I even kissed you, you’d be wild. Knew we’d be good together. Never been more wrong.”

I went stiff wondering how I could’ve felt something so wonderful and he didn’t. I was so stupid to think I’d be enough for Weston. He was used to women who didn’t have to be told what to do with their hands. Who would know how to please him.

My heart sank.

“I’m…”

Shit. What was I? Sorry I’m bad in bed. Sorry I didn’t know what I was doing.

“So goddamn tight and wet I was fighting, getting you there first.”

“What?”

“Knew it’d be a struggle, knew it the first time I had my fingers inside you and your pussy so tight I had to work to get two in. Knew the way you got wet, your excitement dripping down my chin how hot you were. But, babe, I had no clue the feel of your pussy squeezin’ my cock would be so goddamn good that within seconds I’d be ready to blow. No idea how fucking good it would be when your come coated my cock I’d have to fight off the need to fuck you so hard you’d be feeling me for a month.”

Through all of this, Weston kept gliding, giving me sweet strokes. And then I stopped thinking about the sweet he was giving me and started to get excited again. Wondering what “so hard you’d feel me for a month” would be like. Then I was thinking he’d gone at me pretty hard and was shocked he could go harder. But I knew I wanted to know what that felt like.

“You doing okay?” His head lifted and his fabulous brown eyes were sated and lazy.

“Yeah.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

“I was rough.” He was and I loved every minute of it. “You like rough.”

It wasn’t a question, it was an observation and my face heated.

Then even though he already knew what I was going to tell him, I admitted, “I don’t know enough to know what I like. But I loved what you gave me.”

Something big happened. Weston’s eyes heated, his hand on my thigh tightened, and the pulse in his neck started to throb. Being as I was already slightly embarrassed reminding him of my lack of experience, I went whole hog and continued.

“And I’d like to know what ‘fuck you so hard you feel me for a month’ is like.”

A lascivious smile graced his handsome face, one that made my pussy spasm and my clit throb. Holy smokes, he was hot, and hotter when his still-hard dick jerked inside of me.