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And it’s all for me. Me, writhing against the cool marble countertop, pulsing around his rock-hard dick as the wave rises, flooding me with a high I’ve never felt.
“Come for me, baby,” he whispers, his breath hot and intense against my ear. “Be a good girl and come for me.”
He pinches my clit and with a flash of light, it pushes me over the edge. I cry out as the climax explodes around me, my eyes wide open, taking in the strange angles and animalistic curves of my face as I orgasm; then his face, the heat in his eyes, the hard set of his jaw, the tender way he presses his soft lips to my throat, my jaw, my lips.
He lets go of my hair and lowers me gently to the counter, remaining inside me for another moment, letting me ride out the aftershocks. He presses an open-mouth kiss to the nape of my neck, and I moan, something incomprehensible as he pulls out, leaving me empty and still aching for him.
Then he lifts me up, as if I weigh nothing, and carries me to the bed.
He lays me down and presses kisses everywhere on my body: my shoulders, my nipples, my belly button, the inside of my knees. My mound.
“There is no one sexier than you, Faye. No one.” His blue eyes are hard and intense in the dim twilight of the room. “No one,” he repeats.Something softer, more serious passes over his blue eyes and he strokes my face. His fingertips trace my forehead, my cheeks, my chin.
“I need to make love to you,” he says softly. He presses a kiss to each of my brows, and then hovers over me. “Let me make love to you.”
My heart flutters in my chest and I touch his cheek. It’s scratchy and real and he leans into my touch, running his nose alongside mine.
“Faye, I need…” He doesn’t finish his thought.
He doesn't need to. I know what he needs.
I nod.
He shifts between my legs, lining himself up with my center, our breath mingling, as he nudges in. He stretches me as he pushes inside. I roll my head back as I moan at the delicious, exquisite fullness of him in the most intimate place.
“You feel incredible,” he groans, burying his nose into my neck. “I’ll never get enough of you.” He breathes me in, then kisses his way down my throat, trailing licks and dragging his teeth, as he withdraws.
I groan at the sudden emptiness, feeling incomplete without him, already craving his return. Then he edges back inside me at a slow, demanding pace, and my pussy contracts around him.
“So good… like you were made for me,” he whispers into my ear.
The heat from his breath has me arching into him, and he pushes into me, finding the spot I’m craving, the need already pulsing through me.
I open my eyes, and his are right there to meet mine, his gaze intense, steady. He kisses me, tasting my mouth as if he wants to commit it to memory. He threads his fingers with mine, holding my hands next to my head on the pillow, as he thrusts, keeping up his same relentless tempo.
“How did this happen?” he asks, his eyes wide and completely unguarded.
“What?” I ask, watching him blink down at me in wonder.
“How did I get this lucky?” His voice wobbles.
I blink around a tear that escapes. He catches it with his lips, then presses them to mine. I taste the salt on his tongue.
I lift my hips to meet his thrusts, taking him deeper, meeting his gaze and his steady, rocking momentum. The orgasm swells, everything tightening and intensifying as I clench around him, and he thrusts harder, deeper into me.
“Zeke,” I gasp, arching into him.
“Faye,” he breathes, as if it’s a life force, and he presses a kiss to my mouth, his hands squeezing mine as I erupt around him.
He growls into my mouth, and then pulses into me, filling me with everything he’s held back. I feel his warmth as he thrusts through his orgasm, his tongue tasting me in time with the letdown. He continues to press soft kisses to my lips, my cheeks, my jaw. He tugs me so that we’re laying on our sides, still joined together. He strokes the hair off my face, and stares at me, in wonder.
“You’re incredible,” he whispers, a soft smile tilting his lips.
“Zeke, I—” I start to say, feeling the weight of the moment.
His eyebrows lift, and I know what’s on the tip of my tongue as I can still feel him inside me. But it’s too much. Too fast. Too soon.
“That was…” I don’t know how to finish the sentence.
