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Dylan,something in her screamed. As if maybe she should stop this.
But it only made her wetter.
She heard the sound of the condom packet ripping, and some movement from behind her. Then one of his arms came beneath her hips to angle her up higher, even farther onto her toes.
“Tiptoes, please,” he said, and the fact he could sound so normal made her shudder.
And then he wasthere, the broad, wide head of his cock pushing into her folds. She was glad she was so sodden, so hot already, because he was already a stretch.
He didn’t wait. He didn’t let her get used to him. He pushed into her, relentless and sure.
And worse, somehow,slow.
Inexorable.
All she could feel was that stretch, that radical fullness. He was too big, and she wanted to panic, but all she could do was pant.
Still he pushed in, inch by inch, crowding her. Taking her over.
And when she thought she might move her hips a bit to make it better, to ease that initial penetration, she realized that he was holding her fast. He was making her take it. Forcing her to accept him, all of him, just as he liked.
She cracked, then, the orgasm walloping her, though she was not entirely comfortable, not sure she could be, and she was bent over a sink with her ass in the air and he was inside her—Dylan was inside her—and she was entirely full of his cock, so big and so hard she didn’t understand how she’d spent all this time in his presence and never noticed that he washuge—
When he was fully inside her, thrust deep, he stopped. She kept clenching and shuddering around him, but he stayed still and hard.
And something flipped over inside her, some kind of awe, as it began to dawn on her that he was totally and completely in control of himself.
“Stand up,” Dylan said, and his voice was huskier. That was it. “And you can open your eyes if you like.”
But his arm was still tight around her hips, so as she straightened, she had to arch.
And that was what she saw as she rose. Her body arched toward the mirror, her breasts high and her nipples tight, and some other woman’s face where hers ought to have been. Wild and abandoned and drunk on sensation.
While behind her, Dylan loomed dark, hard andeverything.
His cock was lodged deep inside her, and he kept himself there as she came up, his other hand moving around to the front of her. He traced a light line down the front of her, trailing fire, then pressed hard where they were joined, letting her know without a word how well he knew her clit already. How easily he commanded it, and her.
And satisfaction glinted in his gaze when she let out a soft cry, another punch of something not quite an orgasm slamming into her. He moved his hand up over her belly, letting her feel her own moisture as he slowly dragged his way across her skin. And he held himself still, his cock hard and deep, as his hand found her breast. He weighed it in his palm, then dragged his thumb over her nipple, making her moan as the sensation punched through her again.
Still his hand rose, while his green gaze pinned her in the mirror as surely as his cock was buried inside her. His hand kept moving, until it came up to circle her throat.
“I don’t want you to forget where we are, slip off your tiptoes and choke,” he told her, dark and low. His hand almost a collar, but not quite. Dylan and not Dylan, all at once, and that was its own punch. “But that might take work. I want you to do that work.”
And she could see herself. She could see that dazed look on her face and the way each breath she took made her breasts bounce a little. More than that, she could see the intensity in his gaze, and the absolute certainty.
It made her, if not certain on her own, willing to trust that he was.
She nodded, but she couldn’t access her voice. And she couldn’t keep her hands from coming up to grip onto his strong forearm.
“If you don’t want my hand there, that’s fine,” he told her, his green gaze direct. So intense she was sure that he could see straight through her, as deep as that giant cock of his was, buried inside her. “Pull it away. All right?”
Again, she nodded, and she could feel his hand strong at her throat. Not tight, but the faint suggestion of restriction made a new kind of sensation prickle down her back. Her clit seemed to swell.
“Up on your toes, Jenny,” he said again, darker this time.
And then he fucked her.
There was no other word for it, and with each deep, raw slam of his cock deep into her body, she understood the difference in a way no one could possibly have explained to her.
