elegance. It lacked romance and tenderness. It lacked everything a gentleman should do for the woman of his dreams once he had her in bed… Well, most everything. It didn’t lack passion or heat or lust or need. No, this fucking had all that in abundance.
His hips pressed forward and back in a piston motion. His eyes stared into hers. His palms were clasping her wrists so tight he could feel her pulse beating through her skin into him. And his cock…his cock was in heaven, surrounded by throbbing, pulsating heat.
“Kiss me,” she pleaded.
He did, lowering his head, his tongue touching her lips just as she began to open them. Her gaze locked with his and it was the most intense, intimate kiss he’d ever shared with a woman. They never shut their eyes, never broke the contact, even when she wrapped her legs around his hips and slid them to the middle of his back, lifting her ass just slightly off the bed.
The kiss was unhurried, but full of every ounce of his desire for her. Her thoughts, her needs…all were visible in her eyes. He twined his tongue around hers, pulling it deeper, harder, and the green of her gaze darkened. He read the urgency, felt the tensing of her body and for a moment, he thought she would close her eyes, unable to hold onto the intensity…
He shifted, bringing one hand up to close around her throat. Not tight, but just enough pressure, and he saw the heat spike in her eyes. He’d done this to her once before, this mimic of a collar around her throat, this mimic of ownership and her arousal had kicked up just as it did now. Her freed hand came up to wrap around his wrist, her hold just as tight if not tighter on him than his on her.
His lips hovered over hers, breath mingled, gazes still locked. Her pulse thrummed beneath his thumb and his body pumped between her thighs.
Her legs gripped his sides and she pulled herself up, fucking him. She liked this power, this freedom to let go and give as good as she got. He understood that rawness, that delight, that holding of everything vital in the palm of your hand.
“Take it, baby. Take me,” he growled against her parted lips.
She licked his mouth and bounced on the bed, screwing his cock. Her nipples scraped his chest and he dipped his head, sinking his teeth into her chin, drawing an animalistic moan from her. This was why he had wanted to wait until he got her back to his place before he had sex with her. He wanted her to let go in his bed. He wanted this image of her open and giving and taking and sharing, imprinted on his brain.
She was allowed to be uninhibited here with him, and he knew she’d feel it and hoped she’d embrace it. In that moment, she had and she was, and he was happy to be the vessel she rode to the end.
“More, Ella. Give me more,” he whispered against the cleft in her chin before licking up from it to the beads of perspiration on her upper lip.
“I…” She gulped for air.
“I know. You’re so good, baby. You’re so, so good.”
Her smile was beautiful and bashful and sexy as hell. He pressed her harder into the bed with his hands on her wrist and throat, and his hips started to meet her upward thrusts with his own downward strokes. He needed to come.
And he needed to come now. He needed to relieve the pressure in his balls, the tension in his gut and come so hard that he would be the one bouncing on the bed.
Then her smile turned wicked. Dark. Her eyes shifted and changed, the color nearly swallowed by the black of her pupils. His aggression turned her on, always had, he knew, but to see it again, to see how it transformed her, the rough fuck, the hard shoves opening her, widening her, preparing her. He lusted for that look, that fire.
“C’mon, Justin, fuck me.”
Her voice dropped in sex, becoming throaty, raspy, and it skittered across his nerves. If there was a woman whose sex he was meant for, it was hers. Every hot, sinfully blessed inch of it.
“More, please. Give me more.”
The plea
His hips pressed forward and back in a piston motion. His eyes stared into hers. His palms were clasping her wrists so tight he could feel her pulse beating through her skin into him. And his cock…his cock was in heaven, surrounded by throbbing, pulsating heat.
“Kiss me,” she pleaded.
He did, lowering his head, his tongue touching her lips just as she began to open them. Her gaze locked with his and it was the most intense, intimate kiss he’d ever shared with a woman. They never shut their eyes, never broke the contact, even when she wrapped her legs around his hips and slid them to the middle of his back, lifting her ass just slightly off the bed.
The kiss was unhurried, but full of every ounce of his desire for her. Her thoughts, her needs…all were visible in her eyes. He twined his tongue around hers, pulling it deeper, harder, and the green of her gaze darkened. He read the urgency, felt the tensing of her body and for a moment, he thought she would close her eyes, unable to hold onto the intensity…
He shifted, bringing one hand up to close around her throat. Not tight, but just enough pressure, and he saw the heat spike in her eyes. He’d done this to her once before, this mimic of a collar around her throat, this mimic of ownership and her arousal had kicked up just as it did now. Her freed hand came up to wrap around his wrist, her hold just as tight if not tighter on him than his on her.
His lips hovered over hers, breath mingled, gazes still locked. Her pulse thrummed beneath his thumb and his body pumped between her thighs.
Her legs gripped his sides and she pulled herself up, fucking him. She liked this power, this freedom to let go and give as good as she got. He understood that rawness, that delight, that holding of everything vital in the palm of your hand.
“Take it, baby. Take me,” he growled against her parted lips.
She licked his mouth and bounced on the bed, screwing his cock. Her nipples scraped his chest and he dipped his head, sinking his teeth into her chin, drawing an animalistic moan from her. This was why he had wanted to wait until he got her back to his place before he had sex with her. He wanted her to let go in his bed. He wanted this image of her open and giving and taking and sharing, imprinted on his brain.
She was allowed to be uninhibited here with him, and he knew she’d feel it and hoped she’d embrace it. In that moment, she had and she was, and he was happy to be the vessel she rode to the end.
“More, Ella. Give me more,” he whispered against the cleft in her chin before licking up from it to the beads of perspiration on her upper lip.
“I…” She gulped for air.
“I know. You’re so good, baby. You’re so, so good.”
Her smile was beautiful and bashful and sexy as hell. He pressed her harder into the bed with his hands on her wrist and throat, and his hips started to meet her upward thrusts with his own downward strokes. He needed to come.
And he needed to come now. He needed to relieve the pressure in his balls, the tension in his gut and come so hard that he would be the one bouncing on the bed.
Then her smile turned wicked. Dark. Her eyes shifted and changed, the color nearly swallowed by the black of her pupils. His aggression turned her on, always had, he knew, but to see it again, to see how it transformed her, the rough fuck, the hard shoves opening her, widening her, preparing her. He lusted for that look, that fire.
“C’mon, Justin, fuck me.”
Her voice dropped in sex, becoming throaty, raspy, and it skittered across his nerves. If there was a woman whose sex he was meant for, it was hers. Every hot, sinfully blessed inch of it.
“More, please. Give me more.”
The plea
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