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One hand slips free of my shoulder and grazes over my breast, trailing down my abdomen. His fingers crawl beneath the waistband of my pants, finding me bare. “Fuck, Bambi,” he groans into my ear, biting down on the lobe, and I melt just a little in his hold.
A satisfied smile splits my face for only a moment. His finger glides between my lips and teases my clit with maddening circles. I have to bite back the moan threatening to undo the air of control I’m trying to project. He has to work for my moans and whimpers this time. He has to earn me.
He sinks a single finger into my heat and gathers my pooling arousal to coat my lips and clit, before plunging two fingers deep inside. The muscles of his forearm flex with every thrust of his hand, working his way deeper. He twists his fingers back and forth, stretching me open for something larger, firmer.
I rock my hips back and press my ass into his cock, relishing in his growing arousal—his need for me. Lightning ignites in my veins and I rest my head back on his shoulder, closing my eyes. I want him.
“More,” I demand.
“All in good time,” he whispers, pulling his hand from my pants and slipping it under my shirt. He guides the fabric over my head, unhooks my bra, and works the straps down my arms as he walks around to stand in front of me—all while keeping me trapped in his beguiling gaze.
Kicking off his shoes, he quickly and unceremoniously undresses. I get lost in the chiseled angles of his chest, in the shadows and highlights making up each ab. Perfection.
He drops to his knees before me and guides one of my hands to his shoulder then lifts one foot, removing first one shoe and then the next. I swallow thickly when he hooks his fingers in the waistband of my pants and pulls them to the floor, leaving me standing before him naked as the day I was born.
He takes both my hands and guides me to the floor, and lying back, he pulls me on top so I’m straddling him.
“I want to see you ride me. Will you do that for me?”
Wordlessly I nod. Lifting up, I take his cock in hand and give him a few good tugs. He hisses—the sound morphing into a moan when I guide him to my already dripping entrance. “Fuck,” I sigh as I sink down, pressing his dick deeper inside me, filling me completely. I’ve missed the way he stretched me.
When I look down, his eyes are dark, his mouth in a firm line. Pure hunger. A man possessed by one primal need to feast on flesh.
He grips my hips in a bruising hold, urging me to move. I plant my feet on either side of his hips and lift myself up, letting gravity bring me back down. He meets my downward momentum with an upward thrust, driving himself deeper inside of me.
Shifting his hold to palm my breasts, he squeezes and slaps them as they bounce up and down. He takes both nipples between his fingers and pinches them tightly. My pussy walls react to the shock of pain, holding him in a vice. The gallery around us fades away, the air thickening, causing my lungs to stutter. He rolls my pebbled peaks between his fingers. The moan that act pulls from me should be embarrassing, but I’m learning that nothing with this man will ever be shameful. Pain can go hand in hand with pleasure.
I move my hips in small circles, jerking his cock from side to side, my pussy clenching and unclenching greedily around him.
“Fuck me.” His cock jerks inside of me, pressing against that sweet spot on my front wall. I press a hand against his hard chest and rock my hips front to back, lifting and dropping. Chasing my impending orgasm.
His finger finds my clit and rubs sharp circles over the bundle of nerves with the perfect amount of pressure. My heart races, and my head spins, my waning vision darkens, narrowing on the face of the man under me. I lock eyes with him as I ride him faster. It’s intimate and vulnerable, and something deep within me rejoices. I’m on the precipice—the knife’s edge—struggling to hold off, to prolong this moment between us, but it’s useless. I’m too far gone. So turned on and desperate for release, when he tangles his fingers in my hair, pulling my face down to his and growls, “Come.” I obey.
I cry out as the tension in my body snaps like a rubber band. My pussy spasms around his cock so violently brutal, he groans and follows me over the cliff into oblivion.
I’m spent, panting in time with Dante as I slip off of him and lie on the cool concrete floor. Good thing I just vacuumed, right? “That was better than the last time, and I didn’t think it was possible to top that.”
Fingertips crawl up my thigh and I squirm. “No. No more. I can’t take another orgasm. Not yet.”
“You can and you will.” He plunges his deft fingers inside me with abandon. I cry out and he smashes his mouth to mine, swallowing down my protest. What was I protesting again? I’ve forgotten now. Overwhelmed by the pure pleasure lighting up my nerve endings like a goddamn Christmas tree, I dig my nails into his arm. His fingers move inside of me, alternating between curling and stretching me again. He’s touching me like he knows my body. Like he commands it, and fuck if I don’t love that—my endorphins shooting through the roof.
His lips are as brutal as his fingers, demanding my devout attention. I kiss him with everything I have so there’s no misconceptions here. I want this. I want him to devour me and never let go. My pussy contracts around his fingers and I gasp, choking on my own breath as my muscles stiffen and pleasure wrings my limbs of all their strength. Every inch of me is melted ice cream. I’m nothing more than a puddle of spent need on the floor.
“Why is it I always end up on a dirty floor when you fuck me?”
He chuckles, but otherwise ignores my question, placing chaste kisses along my neck and shoulders. “You’re breathtaking, my little doe,” he murmurs, his warm breath fanning along my heated skin.
God, a girl could get used to this.
“Good, because I plan to wring pleasure from your body every damn day.”
Annnnd, I said that out loud. Awesome.
“Tell me your name. I didn’t deserve it before, but now that you’re lying here fully satiated beneath my touch, I’ve earned it—another piece of you that I’ll own.”
“God, you’re such a smooth talker. I bet you could sell water to a fish,” I tease and peer up at him. “It’s Rumor.”
“Rumor.” He rolls my name around on his tongue, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t sexy as fuck to hear him do it.
