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“Bad girl, you like me too much.”
“You just bit my ass.” I giggle.
“And I’m about to do it again and again.”
He does, but this time, he takes slow, leisurely nibbles across my skin, trailing fire in the wake of his touch toward my inner thigh.
Laid out on the surface of the piano, I’m moaning and writhing, rocking against his face. One more lick over the slick wet opening of my passage, and I come.
My orgasm is rapid and furious. An eruption of potent pleasure.
I scream his name and grab his shoulders, digging my fingers into the thick cords of hard muscle.
He straightens then rips open the fly of his pants, releasing his massive cock.
I take the moment to look at it and remember.
It’s huge, longer and thicker than I remember it, and so erect pre-cum has beaded at the tip of the fat mushroom head.
Seeing me looking at him, he grabs my ankle to pull me closer, then he
shoves his rock-hard cock deep, deep, deep inside me.
We both groan at the same time, and I grip on to him tight again.
“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, River. So fucking good.”
I’m only able to answer with a desperate moan that grows louder as he starts moving inside me. Then he fucks me hard, deep, and ruthlessly.
My heart pounds with the same ruthlessness, my lungs throb, then my soul shatters.
Jericho drives into me relentlessly, incinerating me from the inside out.
The mixture of my helpless cries and the sound of our flesh slapping against flesh make me come again, then he owns my body in every way, and I don’t stop coming.
When he speeds up and his cock tenses inside my passage, I know he’s reached his own climax in our wild, passionate lovemaking.
Through the haze of lust, we stare at each other. Me holding on to him for dear life and him gripping my hair.
He comes inside me with a series of succinct, jolting thrusts, and the hot cum flooding my passage pushes me to orgasm one more time.
His pumps slowly and touches my face while I wonder what we’ll do now.
What’s next?
We just had wild, raw sex on top of his grand piano.
Us.
Me and him, who have been broken up for almost a decade. Not days ago, I signed up to a fake relationship where we agreed to be married. Now look at us.
He’s still buried balls deep inside me, and I want him again.
We stare at each other, and with sadness, I watch the confusion play out in his eyes. It’s the same way he looked the other week, but I’m not going to wait for him to send me away.
I pull away to move, but he stops me, cups my face and kisses me.
“I’m not done with you yet.” He kisses my lips, then the bridge of my nose, and moves on to my cheeks. “I’m never done with you.”
