Page 112 of The Wild Card


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I’m learning her body. Making mental notes of everything that makes her shiver. Everything that makes her moan. On the pages of my mind, I’m writing an encyclopedia of her reactions. I’ll use this information to give her pleasure for the rest of her fucking life.

Lying back, I watch her hand find her breast. Eyes closed and face tilted up to the ceiling, she gives the fleshy globe a good squeeze. She moans some more.

I move my free hand up her body, over the rough fabric of her dress. Then I’m cupping my hand over hers and together, we’re massaging her tits, one and then the next.

Electric sensations run through my body just from seeing how much she’s loving this. Damn—making her feel good makes me feel so damn good.

Her thigh muscles clench harshly and she squirts into my mouth. “I’m so close,” she groans. “I’m so fucking close.”

“What do you need, beautiful? Tell me how to get you there?”

“My clit,” she whines, her eyes begging me for mercy. “Touch my clit.”

I graze my thumb over her bottom lip and she sucks it into her mouth, getting it good and wet. Then, I take the pad of my finger to her little nub, rubbing it in quick circles.

“Harder,” she tells me, and I oblige, pressing down on the bundle of nerves as I stroke her in a circular motion. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes-yes-yes-yes-yes!” she shouts, clamping her thighs around my head and climaxing violently with her forehead pressed to the headboard.

Her pussy slides from my lips and Nadia collapses into my arms, shaking with pleasure.

I should probably wait, but I don’t want to. I need to be inside her. Like, immediately.

I kiss her cheek, her forehead, the shell of her ear. “Wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Fuck me…” she whispers.

That’s all the encouragement I need.

With a sense of urgency, I tear her black dress over her head. By the time it lands on the floor somewhere, she’s pushing my pants and underwear to the floor. My erection sighs with relief as he springs free.

Then, Nadia is frantically pulling my face to hers for more kissing.

“You back on the pill?” I ask her, our sweaty bodies sticking together atop her cool sheets. I flip us so I’m on top. I lower my head and taste her breasts, swirling my tongue around each nipple.

She clutches my biceps and arches her back off the bed, pressing her chest into mine. “Yes, I am,” she whispers drunkenly.

“I wanna feel you bare,” I tell her, my mouth on hers.

She reaches down between us for my cock, stroking it in a tight fist. “Please.”

Her knees bracket my hips and her ankles lock behind me, pulling me closer. Then she eases her pelvis up to meet mine. Now, I’m inside her.

“Holy shit…” My voice gets locked in my throat.

So good. So so so good.

Will I ever get used to this? How good she feels? Will it always feel brand new?

I feel her walls stretching around me, accommodating my girth, molding to the shape of me.

“Fuck,” I whisper, burying my face in her collarbone. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m so good,” she moans. “Harry, I love you.”

“I love you, too. But I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to control myself. You feel too good.”

She giggles. “Fuck me how you want to, honey.”

My palms sweep up the insides of her satiny thighs, spreading them wide and holding them apart. “You sure about that, baby. I’m feeling pretty wild right now.”

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