Page 97 of My All American Girl

He grunted as I tugged, asserting my ownership over him. With a grin, I pushed him backward until the bed stopped him.

“Sarah,” he said in a husky tone.

“Shh, lie back,” I whispered.

I stood next to the bed, totally nude as I stared down at my very exposed, very attractive man. I drank in the sight of him. He was everything a man should be.

I put my hand on his flat stomach and dropped to my knees. His legs hung over the bed. I slid my hands up his calves and over his thighs, letting my touch linger.

His muscles twitched, his anticipation matching my own. I traced the contours of his legs, moving closer to that part of him that was already stirring to life.

“Sarah,” he whispered, his voice strained with desire.

I didn’t respond, too focused on my task. I ran my fingers over his length, taking in the heat of him, the firmness. His breath quickened as I gently squeezed. My goal was to give him the same pleasure he had given me. And not just in the bathtub. That night in the hotel when I was so broken, he gave me the most intense pleasure I had ever felt. I wanted to return the favor. I wanted to show him how much he meant to me.

“Sarah,” he whispered. It was a plea. I knew exactly what he was begging for.

I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes were dark with desire, his breath coming out in short, sharp gasps. A powerful feeling washed over me. The power to make him feel like no one else had ever made him feel.

“Shh,” I whispered. With one final glance up at him, I ran my tongue over his thick cock. I started at the tip and traced the throbbing veins all the way down to the base. My hand massaged his balls, gently squeezing and pulling. He let out a guttural groan, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him. There was a kind of rawness, a purity in this vulnerability that connected us on a level we hadn’t touched before. This felt intimate. It felt like we were sharing a lot more than just our bodies.

The heady taste of him filled my mouth, a sweetness that sent shivers running down my spine. His body jerked under me involuntarily as I took him deeper into my mouth, in rhythm with the squeezing and releasing of my hand on him. His groans grew louder, more desperate as I continued to move, the taste of his desire intoxicating.

He was on the edge, and I knew it. I could sense it in every tremble that shot through his body. He grunted and groaned, his hands clenched in the bed sheets. But I wanted to stretch this moment out for as long as possible. With painstaking slowness, I pulled back only to move forward again, teasing him with a rhythm that was slow, then fast, then maddeningly slow again.

“Sarah,” he whimpered, a raw plea that went straight to my core.

I looked up at him under my lashes, maintaining eye contact as I continued my tortuous ministrations. His eyes were glazed, half-closed in pleasure, his lips parted in a silent cry.

I moved faster, my tongue and hand working together to overwhelm him with pleasure. His hips lifted off the bed involuntarily, trying to seek more of what I was giving him. I loved tormenting him, knowing the waiting would make it more intense for him. I held his gaze as I took him deeper into my mouth once again.

His body went rigid. He held his breath. His hand grabbed a fistful of my hair, fingers threading through the strands as he tried to keep control. I could feel him, his pulse hammering against my lips as he teetered on the edge of release.

He whispered my name over and over. It was raw, filled with so much emotion that it made my heart clench. I knew what he wanted, knew what he needed. I picked up speed, my movements more demanding. His hand tightened in my hair as he lost himself in the sensations, his head thrown back against the pillows.

Suddenly, his body convulsed. He let out a low growl from deep within his chest. His grip tightened around my hair. I continued my movements, not slowing, not stopping until the waves of his release subsided.

His body was limp, his arms outstretched with his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. I got to my feet and looked down at him. The look on his face was one of pure satisfaction. He had a dazed expression in his eyes that made me smile, knowing I had given him that.

“Give me a minute,” he said.

“Tell me you brought condoms?”

He grinned. “Of course, I did.”

“You stay right there, and I’ll get one.”

He pointed to the bathroom. “I left them in there.”

I nodded and moved to the bathroom. The room was still steamy as I fished through his toiletry bag for the foil packets. Triumphant, I returned to the room and admired the sight before me. His body was still slick with sweat. His muscles bulged from the torture I had just put him through.

He sat up and pulled me down to the bed. Then he rolled over me and pinned me under him with a goofy smile.

“You continue to surprise me,” he said. “Just when I think I can’t be surprised by you again, you do it.”

He dropped his mouth to mine, kissing me with so much passion I was worried we might start the bed on fire. His hand slid between my legs, his touch sparking a delicious shiver that rippled through my body. I moaned into the kiss, arching my back to meet him. He broke the kiss and looked down at me, his gaze burning with hunger.

He parted my folds and pushed his fingers inside. The pleasure was so intense it was almost too much. He watched me, my every reaction, my every gasp, and whimper adding to his own arousal.

He nipped lightly at my earlobe. His hand continued to move, each slide of his fingers sending waves of desire crashing through me. His other hand, the one not busy teasing and exploring, roamed my body.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded softly. I did as he ordered. His eyes held mine as he continued with his fingers, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. The feeling was intense and overwhelming.

“Wait.” He rolled to his back and quickly rolled the condom on. “I want to feel you come. I want your body squeezing mine.”

He positioned himself between my legs. The look in his eyes was intense and hungry. Slowly, he pushed himself inside me. I gasped at the sensation, at how right it felt.

He held still for a moment, allowing me to adjust to his size. Then he began to move. His pace was slow, purposeful. His hands moved to my hips, gripping them firmly as he pulled me closer against him.

Each thrust was a stroke of pleasure, lifting me higher and higher. The breath hitched in my throat as he found a rhythm, a torturous tempo that had my nails digging into his shoulders. His lips slanted over mine, as demanding as the movements of his body.

He groaned out my name. Hearing it drove me wild. I could feel him, hard and unyielding inside me. Each stroke was pure pleasure. Each withdrawal left me craving for more.

In that moment, he was all that mattered. I let myself go, feeling the pleasure wash over me. Wave after wave hit me. He groaned, surrendering to his own need, and together, we tumbled into sweet oblivion.