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He ran a hand down my spine. The air felt suddenly cold, colder where his touch had been but now it wasn’t.
“Lean forward and hold on.” He slapped my ass, a small surprising sting.
I bit my lip and leaned forward. He ran his hands down the back of my thighs, down my calves, and spread my ankles.
Then I felt him pull my panties to the side, baring me to him. My breath hitched. His warm breath hit me first, a small tease, before he assailed me with his tongue.
I bit my lip so I wouldn’t cry out in the pleasure of it. I didn’t know why I cared. It was like it was some sort of messed up part of this game we played. We faked a friendship and we fought for power. I couldn’t let him know how fucking good he made me feel.
“You’re sweet as honey,” he whispered against my tender flesh.
“All the acid’s on my tongue.”
“Your mouth tastes sweet, too.”
He ran his tongue up and down my folds, and I felt deliciously exposed. I felt used in a way I hadn’t before, yet somehow safe in his steady hands. We might be fighting for power, but he would never hurt me.
My head began to spin, every thought slipping away as the pleasure overpowered everything else.
I held tight as he lashed harder, until I came undone on his tongue, hard and fast. Noise burst from my lips, surprising me, but I didn’t care.
I meant to twist around, to take a turn controlling his body and make him lose the control he held so tightly to his chest. But before I could manage to move, he was on me once more, not on my pussy, but everywhere—lips and teeth and tongue marking my ass, my side, my back. The heat of him surrounded me, rough hair scratching gently on my back.
I heard the tear of foil.
He pressed against me, his bare chest over my back, one arm up between my breasts. He gently cupped my chin and turned my head so our eyes locked over my shoulder.
His condom-covered cock rubbed against my thigh. It was so hard, so big.
The memory of him being inside me was fuzzy. I wanted a repeat, only this time I would remember it all.
He slipped his other hand down the front of my panties and gently stroked my clit. It felt so good, so raw. It wouldn’t take much to make me come again.
I stared into his eyes and saw all the fire I’d felt before, and something more, like he was looking for more than my submission, but I had no idea what it was.
He rubbed faster on my clit, and I murmured, “Yes, Gabriel. It feels so good.”
“Tell me what you want,” he said.
“Fuck me.”
And then he pressed inside.
The slow stretch was delicious torture.
With one hand, he worked my clit and with the other, he found my breasts, gently teasing my nipples through the lace of my bra.
How could sex be this good? How could my body endure so much sensation and so much pleasure under the hands of a man I was supposed to hate?
All I wanted to do now was sing his praises and take him deeper, but words were impossible. All I could manage was to wordlessly ride the wave sensation.
As he reached his full, massive length, stretching me to my limit, he lowered his hands to my hips, pulled back slightly, and crashed his dick in hard.
I cried out.
He froze. I turned back and found his gaze looking up and down my face.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice taut. Concern knitted his brows together.
