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There was no name but his. No name before or after. No one had ever fucked me like he was fucking me. No one had ever held my body so tight. Had ever filled me so fully. Made my fingertips and my eyelids and my lips all buzz, all tingle, all hum like I was fucking high. Made me curse and adore him.
When I came, I screamed his name. I screamed it against his throat. Against his vein pumping hot blood toward his heart as each wave of pleasure slammed into me.
Again and again, I screamed until my throat was raw and I choked.
I collapsed, limp as a rag doll as Mason’s rhythm grew irregular, erratic. The way he was looking down at me, all haze and hooded eyes, I knew he was close. Gripping his shoulders, I took him by surprise by heaving us over the side of the couch. He ended up on his back and I ended up on top of him. I barely felt my knees bruising against the floor.
I bucked my hips before he could question what the fuck had happened. My tits bounced as I fucked Mason as hard and fast and rough as he’d fucked me. So that my name was the only one. I fucked him so he’d remember. So he’d never forget.
With my nails digging into his chest beneath me, I hissed, “Your turn to choke.”
When he came he screamed my name. Screamed it like I’d never heard it screamed. Like never before. I didn’t know it then, but never again.
He screamed it until he choked.
