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Finally, he gets me.
“Good?”
“So good.”
On one hard thrust, he touches his lips to mine. “You want it hard? You want it deep?”
“Yes, please.”
He grasps me under my thigh and pushes my knee up, grinding so hard I can feel it against my clit, sparking a new rush of arousal there.
“Oh god, Nate, yes!”
His deep and slow thrusts slowly build, the in and out slide pleasuring me from within. My muscles grip him tight, but he’s so big and strong that I can already feel them growing fatigued.
Nate crams in again and again, pushing us both across the bed. My hands instinctively scramble for purchase in the sheets, his hair, his neck.
Without a word, he clasps my wrists in one of his big hands and pins my arms down above my head.
I can’t move.
My insides turn to lava.
“This good?” Nate asks.
“Uh-huh. That. Do that to me. That’s what I need. Hold me down and let me play fight you.”
He laughs a low, wicked laugh against my throat. “I wish you could feel how wet your pussy got when I did that.”
“Keep doing that!”
“I got you, petal.”
Nate gives me everything I want. With every shove inside, I push against his hold on my wrists, and he corrects me by tightening his grip.
We continue this way, thrusting, pushing, writhing, and tightening until my soul feels like it might leave my body.
“Want more?”
“Yes, Nate. Want more.”
To my utter shock, he pulls out. My body is bereft at the loss of contact, but before I can shriek in protest, Nate has flipped me onto my stomach. He raises my hips upward and clamps one hand around my neck.
“Good?”
“Please, Nate, I need you,” I whimper through tears.
His cocks slides back inside, and finally, all is well again.
This. This is what I’ve always wanted.
This is perfectly perfect, and yet he decides to make it even better for me by reaching around and strumming my clit. With his other hand still holding me down on the pillow, his body covers my back. My shield. The shell to my soft center.
The pleasure is transcendent, and tears leak from my eyes onto the pillow.
This is everything.
To be manhandled like nothing but a rag doll. To be stuffed full of the man I love.
