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But to make that happen, I had to move faster.
I had to buck harder.
When I reached the base of his cock, I twisted my hips in a circle, absorbing the full length of him before I rose back to his tip.
“That’s it,” he hissed. “Fuck me, Brooklyn. Make me fucking come.”
I was so focused on how good this felt that I could barely respond. The only things that came out of me were moans.
And they were constant.
Loud.
They showed him exactly what was happening within me.
Because the second I felt the sparks start to rise through me, Macon took over.
His strokes were deep.
Relentless.
Consuming.
“You’d better come with me,” he warned.
He knew what he was doing as he pounded into me, my body reacting just the way he wanted it to and I was positive he could feel it.
“Oh God.” I tried to draw in air. “I’m going to come right now.”
There was nothing I could do to hold it off.
It was there, wrapping around me.
And what helped move it along was his thumb grazing my clit, his mouth on mine.
His body owning me.
Within a few drives of his hardness, I was shuddering.
“Fuck!” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, using his muscles to keep me from falling back in the water. “Ahhh!”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” His strokes changed. They were deeper. Sharper. “You’re milking me, Brooklyn.” He bit my lip, releasing it to say, “Your pussy is telling me how badly you want me to blow my load inside you.”
My moan was my reply.
Because that was what I wanted from him.
What I wanted to feel.
Watch.
Hear.
Experience.
A fullness that only his cum could give me.
And within a few more plunges, holding on with all my strength as he plowed into me, giving me harsh, rocket-like thrusts, I felt the first shot as his thickness mixed with my wetness.
