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I tremble as I obey him without question while he rolls on a condom he pulled from the back pocket of his jeans. I watch, but in this moment I focus on getting bare. I want only to obey him. Only to—
He sucks in a breath. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.”
He stalks toward me, and in a flash I’m back against the wall. He cups my ass and lifts me. Automatically, I wrap my legs around his waist. In one motion, he pushes down and thrusts his hips up, driving his dick into me.
I cry out, the feeling so intense. So full.
I close my eyes and tilt my head back. He clamps his lips onto my neck as he thrusts, thrusts, thrusts.
“Fuck, Carly. You feel so good.” His breath fans my heated skin.
Each thrust nudges his chest against my hard nipples and his lower body scrapes against my clit.
It’s wild. Feral even. His ragged breathing shows he’s just as lost in this as I am.
He’s bigger than the vibrator. More. He wraps around me, the hard wall at my back cool in comparison to his heat.
I climb higher and higher, until—
“Austin!” I burst into a climax so intense it radiates outward, to my fingers and toes, and then back to my core as my walls clench.
“Fuck, that’s so tight. You’re killing me.”
“It’s so good,” I moan. Because it is.
“That’s it, my Carly. Come. Come for me.”
Austin continues to thrust as I let the last threads of my climax tingle through me. With each plunge, he buries himself more deeply inside me, and I feel everything last millimeter of him as I pulse around him.
“Fuck,” he grits out. “Fuck!”
He thrusts hard, and I’m so in sync with him that I feel him swell inside me before he holds himself deep and lets go. A deep, guttural growl escapes his chest as he slaps a hand against the wall beside my head.
I’m breathing hard, little aftershocks of pleasure pulsing through me. I want to stay like this forever. Held up and protected by him. Feeling him inside me. The two of us connected as one.
He stays there for a moment, embedded deep, his forehead wet from perspiration, and he leans against me, his eyes closed. Lost.
Another moment, and he pulls away slightly, helping my feet to the ground. His rough palms rake over my body. My shoulders, my breasts, waist. Hips, thighs.
I still when he comes in contact with the raised marks.
“Carly…” he says softly.
“Austin,” I reply.
“We need to talk about those scars.” His fingers stroke over one of them.
Just like that, I’m jerked out of my orgasmic bliss. He heads to the bathroom to deal with the condom, which doesn’t take long enough.
I shake my head when he returns. “Please. Not now. I thought—”
He kisses my lips—just a light brushing—and then takes my hand and leads me to the bed. He sits down and pats the area beside him.
“I’m okay,” I say, as if he’ll hopefully accept that as the answer and move on to round two.
“I know you are. And you’re beautiful to me.”
Why do we have to do this?
