Page 93 of Thin Lives

Their months’ long affair was full of times like these where they’d just taken the moments they had because more like them probably weren’t going to happen anytime soon. She didn’t mind letting Calisto pull her into a small closet of a room and hiking her skirt up high enough for him to eat her out from behind while his fingers buried into her ass knuckle deep. She didn’t care when he fucked her hard enough over Affonso’s desk during a dinner party that she’d felt tender for two days after.

No.

Emma just didn’t care.

In no time at all, he had them both in the back seat, and her red dress hiked up over her thighs. Without a word, he was unzipping his trousers and pulling his thick, hard erection from his boxer-briefs, his hand closing around the shaft to pump it in a tight grip. He yanked her thighs apart roughly as she bent down to kiss him again, threading her fingers through his hair.

“Fucking ride me,” Calisto growled against her mouth.

Emma whined when he bit down hard on her bottom lip. She felt his hands tangle into her lace-trimmed cotton briefs a second before he was pulling them down over her legs with enough strength to make her skin sing and sting all at the same time.

“I want that sweet come of yours soaking me until I smell just like you,” he told her.

Emma’s mouth went dry at his words.

They played such a filthy, dangerous game together.

One wrong step and … that would be it.

For both of them.

His hands landed on her hips, she grabbed the base of his cock to keep him in place, and then he was tugging her down hard and fast. There was no give when his cock slid into her wet, clenching sex. He didn’t take his time, or work his way in because the need that always seemed to be burning between them took focus and attention.

It came first.

That brief flicker of pain …

That sting when he stretched her open …

That ache when he bottom out …

She needed that, too.

Emma tugged on Calisto’s hair, her arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close. With his hands firmly attached on her hips, pulling and lifting with her own rhythm, she forgot they were in the backseat of a car in some random alleyway.

She couldn’t seem to ride him fast enough.

… hard enough.

“Come on,” Calisto urged, a shake coloring up his words. “Don’t you want to come for me, Emma? How long has it been since you came for me, huh?”

“Too long.”

And that was always her answer.

Each stroke of his cock filled her a little more. She was wet enough that there was no doubt in her mind she was going to leave stains behind on his pants.

Calisto didn’t seem to care.

His hand tangled into her hair, pulling her head back until her neck was taut.

Her fingers raked down his shoulder, leaving scores of red behind.

So stupid.

But so, so good.

She loved the way he touched her, and how he never handled her like glass. She loved his roughness, his harsh breaths in her ear, and the heat that pulsed between them.