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Faster. Harder.
Until I’m screaming again, my hands locked on his body as he fucks me across the polished floor.
Until sweat slicks our bodies and I don’t know where my softness ends and his hardness begins.
All I know is pure bliss as another climax overwhelms me.
“Open your eyes,” he grunts harshly. “Watch Daddy empty his balls into that glorious hole. Need it, angel. Need your eyes on me.”
I open my eyes, watch his rigid feature tighten even further as he roars his climax, his movements unfettered as he bottoms out inside me, fills me with the sticky outpouring of his seed.
Caught in the grip of release, Jared looks like a wild and breathtaking painting. Priceless. Utterly riveting.
My heart trips over again, this time with how much I want this moment to last forever. I want to make him feel like this every day for the rest of my life.
And when he collapses on top of me and buries his head in my throat, I wonder if this is what Stockholm syndrome feels like.
And if so, maybe it’s not as bad as the textbooks make it out to be.
