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His cock becomes more insistent in the small of my back, and I moan helplessly. With my sensitized breasts squeezed against the wall, my hands splayed, right next to Zane’s, I can only feel as he trails his mouth on my bare shoulder, along my arm. It makes me want his touch, his mouth on other places where I throb with need.
His hands are back on my body, smoothing over my sides. I gasp when he lifts my dress and tears my panties clear off me. He strokes the curve of my ass, dips his fingers between my legs, thrusting into me, and I shiver all over, about to come apart.
“I know what you need,” he whispers as he pumps his fingers in and out, ratcheting up the pressure inside me. “Move with me. Ride my hand. Come for me.”
“Oh God.” My hips roll. I can’t believe I’m about to come like this, standing, braced against the wall of his living room. My body is a roaring rollercoaster of pleasure, the pressure mounting to the point of pain, and something inside me uncoils.
I sob as the pleasure takes me apart, shatters me to a thousand pieces. My knees buckle, but he’s there, holding me up, his arm around my waist—crushing me to him so that I can feel how excited he is. He groans, and I clench again, gasping with aftershocks.
“That was so hot,” he whispers, and I can hear the sound of a foil crinkling.
That’s it, I think, my thoughts still hazy. He’ll enter me here and now, fuck me against the wall, and strangely the thought excites me, although a tiny voice in my head whispers that it’s probably how he fucks all those girls in bars and clubs. That now I’m turning into one more anonymous fuck for him, faceless. Run-of-the-mill.
But as if reading my mind, he whispers in my ear, “There’s no one like you.” He shifts behind me. “I know you, too. Your scent. Your taste. Your hair. The moth on your back.”
His hand nudges my legs apart, lifting my ass, and I squirm uneasily. “I trust you,” I whisper. “But I still want to see you. I want to see your face when you come.” And Jesus, I’ve never said things like that to anyone before. Never felt things like that.
He says nothing, and my eyes sting. Then something large and thick slides over my seam. His cock sends delicious tremors through me as it strokes me on the outside. I want him inside me.
Then he pushes into me, breaching me. “Hold on tight,” he whispers, and I bend my head, pressing my hands into the wall, as he plunges into me all the way. His thick length fills me up completely.
I cry out.
Pain. Pleasure. Pain. Pleasure.
I’m going mad, my body shaking as I try to separate the sensations, but they keep mixing, confusing me.
“Hold still,” he says and thrusts inside me, again and again, erasing the pain, turning it into mind-numbing pleasure.
“I’ll fall,” I choke out, my muscles locking and quivering, my arms shaking.
“You won’t.” His arm around my waist tightens. “I’ve got you.”
Small explosions start in my core, ripples spreading, rolling over me, rising into waves, cresting and crashing.
“Zane!” I come hard, the pleasure burning a fiery path up my spine.
“That’s it,” he whispers, thrusting inside me, prolonging my orgasm. “Fly and let me catch you.”
It does feel like flying. It’s as if my body is a cloud of shiny particles, hanging in dark space, the only sound my heartbeat and my ragged breathing. My head swims.
His thrusts slow down. His arm around my waist tightens.
“Zane?” He’s still fully hard. He still hasn’t come, and I expect him to start moving again. Find his pleasure.
But he stills completely, the only movement the throbbing and twitching of his thick cock inside me.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters.
“What is it?” I want to turn, but he’s holding me so tightly pressed to his chest that I’m effectively immobilized. The haze is lifting off my mind, and several scenarios flash through my head. He realized he forgot to put on the condom. He’s caught in a flashback and doesn’t know who I am. He pulled a muscle in his back and can’t move. He got a cramp.
Shut up, mind.
Slowly Zane starts to pull out of me, and I moan at the friction inside, where I’m still super sensitive.
Pain and pleasure. That could be the definition of what I have with Zane.
When he’s finally out, he releases me, and I slump against the wall. I turn to face him, at long last, and find him standing there, hands fisted at his sides, his hard-on still sheathed in a condom.
