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He stripped, his eyes on me, the moonlight reflecting off his build as it was unveiled. Those shoulders, the bulge of his biceps, the lines of his abs, the sharp cut of his hips. He was a fucking machine, and when he pulled down his underwear, he was already ready.
He ripped open a foil package and tossed it beside me. “I want you just like this, every night of my life.”
His knees settled on the bed, the mattress shifting, and he parted my knees and ran his hands down my thighs. Between us, his stiff cock bobbed, and it was so thick I wondered if it would hurt. I reached between us and wrapped my hand around it. Squeezing the thick cord of muscle, I felt it respond against my palm.
“Lay back.”
His hand brushed over my pussy, and my smile turned into a sigh of surrender, my grip falling off his cock, my back hitting the mattress. His talented fingers made soft contact with my clit, feather-light and circling, moving over the sensitive area in a leisurely fashion. He shifted, and I felt the thick intrusion of fingers, pushing inside of me. My body was slick and ready, and I lifted my hips off the bed in an attempt for more.
“God, you are perfect.” He leaned forward, and my eyes pinched shut when his tongue replaced the movement on my clit, his fingers moving from thrusting to g-spot manipulation, everything in my world turning dark as pleasure overtook brain function, and my body surrendered to his mouth.
The man ate pussy as if it was ice cream. He feasted on it, moaned against my clit, and slid his tongue across every inch of it. A woman couldn’t be self-conscious, not with the talented play of his mouth, his hands pinning my thighs open, the enthusiasm—no, worship—of his touch. My body tightened and he knew, his lips tensing, tongue flicking, and everything spiraled into a hot spin of pleasure, all of my senses building, twisting, exploding underneath that mouth.
“Oh… God… I…”
I surrendered to him, trusted him with its intensity, and didn’t hold back, letting the orgasm bind and break me, the explosion ripping through me with exquisite clarity. I screamed, knotting my fingers in his hair, my thighs clamping around his head, my feet flexing against his back. I whimpered, the orgasm spreading, fading, my body jerking. My legs slid off his shoulders, and my hips bucked, an involuntary reflex, my pussy tightening, an aftershock of pleasure still sparking.
I moaned with unintelligible pleasure and he didn’t look up from his cock, rolling the condom on with brisk efficiency. He sat back on his knees and pulled me forward, flush to him, my thighs against his, my legs falling open, void of any energy or control. My senses came back to life when he thrust forward, a slow, controlled movement that opened my body in an entirely new way.
Holy shit. I could feel him everywhere. Rigid. Thick. He filled me in an almost painful way, and if I wasn’t still drugged and languid from my orgasm, I’d make him stop. I cried out, my hand pushing on his chest, and he leaned forward, the pain lessening, the angle better, his gaze holding mine.
“Give it a minute.”
I’d give it all night. He pulled at my dress, dragging it over my stomach and exposing my breasts. He tilted his hips, went even deeper, and I couldn’t believe this was happening. Him, naked against me. His muscular thighs, tensing. His cock inside of me. His eyes ran over my bare body, and he whispered my name. He slid his hands over my breasts, owning and caressing them with his touch. My body relaxed, adjusted, and when he moved his hands to my hips, his weight settling back, it didn’t hurt anymore. His eyes met mine, and I smiled.
“Ready?”
I didn’t know what I was supposed to be ready for, but I nodded. I nodded, and the man atop me exploded into action.
Had I ever been truly and properly fucked before? I thought I had. I thought I was experienced, thought that all of the men before Dario had exposed me to every pleasure center and position that existed. But in that room, I had a virgin’s knowledge of what could occur.
He fucked … and there was no other word for it. Hard, piston-like thrusts that didn’t change in their repetitions. I didn’t understand the beauty of it until the consistency of his actions led to the build. The build that grew and strengthened and twisted and bloomed, my orgasm the kind that shattered through me, a pleasure center exploding, and stretching. He barely stopped, but suddenly I was on my hands and knees, at his disposal. Animalistic and raw. He growled when he thrust into me. He gripped my ass, pulled me on and off of his cock, and set us into motion.
