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How does he manage to hit every one of them?
My hips buck, and my eyes roll. Already, I’m nearing an orgasm. That dream pushed me toward the edge, and Enzo bringing it to life is transcendent.
My hands grip the pillow above me, curling into it fiercely. He diverts his attention down, plunging inside my pussy with fervor, licking me so thoroughly that I’m convinced there isn’t an inch of me he hasn’t feasted on.
He hums against me before growling, “How does it feel to be eaten alive?”
“It’s not enough,” I mewl breathlessly. “I’d rather you fuck me to death.”
He rises to his knees and tugs his shirt over his head by the back of his collar. My mouth waters at the sight of moonlight and shadows engaging in a war across every ridge and curve on his physique.
I’m on the verge of sitting up and licking his abs. However, he’s already pulling down his shorts, revealing something much more tantalizing. His cock juts straight out, curving upward just the slightest bit. That’s the secret to him hitting all those perfect spots inside me.
“Why did you get to be God’s favorite?”
He stares down at me with a savage expression.
“You can ask him yourself when I take you to see him.”
I bite my lip, but a gasp breaks through when he grabs my hips, lifting them to the height of his own, and then lines his cock to my entrance with only my upper back on the bed.
He keeps me there suspended, so close to feeling complete again.
“Let me take you to him,bella.”
“Fuck, yes, fill me up—”
He drives inside before I can finish, a sharp cry replacing my plea. He pauses, giving me time to adjust to his size. It’s unnatural, the way he fills me so completely.
“Shh, the caretaker will hear you,” he murmurs.
On cue, there’s a creak outside our door, racketing up my heart rate to catastrophic levels. I curl my lips together, attempting to keep quiet while Enzo withdraws, then slams inside me again.
“Enzo, let me touch you,” I beg.
Uncaring of his response, I grab onto his forearms before he can answer, feeling the thick protruding veins threaded throughout them. He picks up a steady pace, his grip on my hips becoming bruising.
My mouth opens on a silent scream, my back bowing until I’m practically balancing on my head as he fucks me.
I’m clawing at his arms while the sharp sound of skin slapping arises.
“Oh God,” I cry, trying to keep my voice down but failing miserably.
“Can you see him, baby? Ask him for forgiveness.”
“Why?” I pant, another high-pitched moan nearly swallowing the word.
“Because you worship me now.”
He ends his promise with a sharp thrust, this one angled differently to hit that spot inside me that has electricity racing down my spine.
God, how could I not worship him? Sex with him is the only time I’ve ever prayed.
I bite my lip hard, the orgasm deep in my stomach building rapidly. I’m trying to slow it down—to savor this—but my body has taken on a mind of its own. My hand darts to my center, and I’m circling my clit firmly, amping the pleasure up to dizzying heights.
“Enzo, I need to come,” I rush out, my tone hushed but high-pitched.
“You come when I tell you to,” he growls.
