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“Fucking shit. If I knew what you had under that dress, I would’ve had you in the trees before Destiny found us. No lie,” he rumbles, that monster dick throbbing in his hand.
My mouth falls open, but I’m too dumbstruck to speak.
After a few more intense pumps, he shoves his swimsuit off and leaves it on the floor. Then he’s stepping forward, stopping between my legs, taking me by the wrist and helping me back into bed.
If I didn’t just get the shock of my life from cock-zilla, I might appreciate how the Egyptian cotton duvet with a million stitches feels like a cloud.
“You’re red. Are you warm enough yet?” he demands, pressing his forehead to mine, brushing my lips with his breath.
Can sex give you heatstroke? I wonder.
He pulls me closer, locking his arms around me, molding his lips to mine again and again until I’m a molten mess beneath him.
When I can bear to open my eyes, staring into his starlight-blue pools, I don’t care about the heat.
I just nod. I think I do.
His lips find mine with a vicious smile.
The kiss comes longer and sweeter than before, even as his huge chest rises and falls, drawing breaths that seem rougher each time.
I’m not sure what I expected in his bed, but it’s not the length or depth of this tender kiss, especially after how fast our clothes fell off.
Though I’m kinda glad the tenderness doesn’t last.
His kiss makes me urgent, his fingers spooling my hair around them.
My nails dig at his back.
Cole matches my pace, biting back harder when I nip at him, rocking the ridge of his girthy cock against my clit until I’m moaning hotly in his mouth.
“Shit. Shit, Eliza, if that pussy gets as hot as your lips...”
I’m about to protest, to tease, to drag his mouth back to mine.
I’m not ready for the kiss to end, but he nibbles my earlobe, kissing down my jawline and then my throat.
His lips march over my clavicle, stopping in my cleavage.
He covers one breast with his hand, drawing rough circles over my nipple—right before his mouth claims the other one.
“Oh!”
I thrash against him, too wrecked for words.
He sucks nice and slow at first, his teeth forming a ring with just the right pressure. It’s gentle and sweet, just like how the kiss started, and he only stops to lavish attention on my other breast.
For a second, I think I might come before his hand even slides between my legs—until it happens.
It’s incredible how rough his hands are for a man who spends his days typing and signing papers. He traces the round nub, cautiously at first before I hear the knowing growl oozing out of him.
I gasp, but he doesn’t linger.
His hand slides closer, skimming my thighs, tracing my opening.
“You’re fucking ready, aren’t you?” he whispers. “No need to answer. Your body’s too honest.”
I. Am. Gone.
The thousand searing sensations darting through my body keep my eyes from opening, but I’m able to whisper back, “Is that bad?”
His free hand combs my hair. “Fuck no. It’s perfect. You want this as bad as I do. Just hold on to that passion so you can keep up.”
His lips flick mine and he pulls away, leaving me alone. I hear him on the other side of the bed, rummaging around in a drawer, and then a metallic crinkle.
I barely see him glide the condom on his length before he’s between my legs again, teeth bared as he sinks into me in one slow-burning push.
Crap.
Crap.
He’s a human battering ram.
I’m shaking as he fills me, hands pressed against his back, beyond grateful he’s taking his sweet time. If he’d gone any faster, I’m not sure I could take it.
I expect it to hurt with his size, but he’s so gentle, even as the lust in his eyes makes dark, wild promises.
When I’m thoroughly stretched and he’s in to the hilt, pulsing in my depths, he gives me a harsh look with hot, narrowed eyes.
“Arms around me, sweetheart. Hold the hell on,” he urges.
“Yeah,” I sigh roughly, my voice cracking, cupping his face with my hand in the last second of peace I’ll know.
Then his hands slide under me, grabbing my hips and pulling me closer, fully engulfing every inch of him as he begins to move.
Thank God someone still has their wits.
Slow, punishing strokes rock me from the inside out.
His massive body moves over mine like a mountain.
I’m already on the edge, and we’re barely a dozen strokes in before I feel myself imploding, clenching on his cock, my nails raking his skin.
“Cole, Cole—don’t stop!”
And he doesn’t.
His pace only quickens as I become frantic, and his mouth attacks mine, pushing a growl against my tongue as my vision blurs into white-hot stars.
Coming!
I didn’t know orgasms like the kind Cole Lancaster delivers existed.
