whispers, and kisses me once more. Then he sits up and reaches for the lube. As he strokes it onto his dick, I can barely lie still.
Yes. Yes. Fuck me. The sheets gather in my curling fingers. Right now.
He starts to guide himself in but hesitates. “On second thought…” He nudges my hip. “Turn around.”
Those two words go straight to my balls, and I bite down on a moan. He doesn’t just want to fuck me tonight—he wants to fuck me hard .
As I shift position, Ian hands me the damp towel I’d worn out of the bathroom.
“Put this down first.” He gives me a moment to smooth the towel on the bed beneath me.
Then he’s behind me. And he’s pressing against me. And my head is already spinning and the anticipation is going to drive me insane.
And just like it always does, the first stroke takes my breath away.
My head falls forward. The towel and sheets are flimsy anchors, but they’re something to hold on to, and I hold them tight as Ian’s cock slides deeper inside me. As he always does, he takes his time, letting me get used to him before he starts going to town on me. It doesn’t take long—we’ve fucked enough times, my body always yields easily to him—and he steadies my hips as he finds a perfect, smooth cadence.
For a few strokes, anyway. Just as my vision is starting to clear, and I can finally breathe, he speeds up. He has a death grip on me now and holds me perfectly still as he slams into me. Skin slaps against skin. Every thrust knocks breath from my lungs, and I’m pretty sure I’m moaning and cursing, but my brain can’t zero in on anything except the way Ian’s dick feels and his deliciously painful grip on my hips.
His weight shifts. Ian pushes me all the way down to the mattress, the cool and slightly damp towel beneath me emphasizing the warmth of his skin against mine, and he fucks me deep and hard, and between his cock inside me and his hot breath on my neck, I’m losing my mind. Nothing else exists, nothing else matters—just my husband’s amazing body against mine, his cock driving into me, my own cock rubbing against the coarse towel, and the orgasm that’s building by the second.
I claw at the bed. Curl my toes. Try to complement his thrusts, but I can’t move, so I just lie there. Lie there, close my eyes, enjoy the ride. Holy hell, I love the way this man fucks me. My orgasm is both irrelevant and inevitable—I don’t care if I ever come, because I feel so, so good, but I will because it’s impossible not to when Ian’s body is against me and his cock is moving inside me.
He groans in my ear. “Goddamn, you get tight when you’re close. You are…so…”
I bite my lip, squeezing my eyes shut and trying not to come quite yet. He’s close too, and I love how he sounds—the way his breath catches, the way his voice is strained and shaky.
Somehow, he manages to thrust even harder, as if he thinks he can possibly get any deeper inside me. I press my forehead into the mattress, gripping the edges of the towel and holding my breath and—
And he sinks his teeth into my shoulder.
And I come.
One second, I’m on the verge, and the next, I’m gone, and Ian knows just how to keep me going, fucking me relentlessly as I gasp and cry out and fall to pieces beneath him.
Then I collapse. All I can do now is lie there and be fucked, taking him again and again while aftershocks ripple through me and my fingers knead the comforter.
“ Fuck .” Ian grunts. Forces himself into me. Trembles.
And exhales, his whole body relaxing on top of mine as cool breath rushes past my neck.
“Jesus,” I breathe.
He drops a light kiss on my shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
I snort and roll my eyes. “Arrogant bastard.”
Chuckling, he kisses the spot where he bit me. “Arrogant bastard who just made you come.” He withdraws slowly. “So as I said, you’re welcome.”
I push myself up on shaky arms and glare playfully at him but can’t help laughing. “Well, if
Yes. Yes. Fuck me. The sheets gather in my curling fingers. Right now.
He starts to guide himself in but hesitates. “On second thought…” He nudges my hip. “Turn around.”
Those two words go straight to my balls, and I bite down on a moan. He doesn’t just want to fuck me tonight—he wants to fuck me hard .
As I shift position, Ian hands me the damp towel I’d worn out of the bathroom.
“Put this down first.” He gives me a moment to smooth the towel on the bed beneath me.
Then he’s behind me. And he’s pressing against me. And my head is already spinning and the anticipation is going to drive me insane.
And just like it always does, the first stroke takes my breath away.
My head falls forward. The towel and sheets are flimsy anchors, but they’re something to hold on to, and I hold them tight as Ian’s cock slides deeper inside me. As he always does, he takes his time, letting me get used to him before he starts going to town on me. It doesn’t take long—we’ve fucked enough times, my body always yields easily to him—and he steadies my hips as he finds a perfect, smooth cadence.
For a few strokes, anyway. Just as my vision is starting to clear, and I can finally breathe, he speeds up. He has a death grip on me now and holds me perfectly still as he slams into me. Skin slaps against skin. Every thrust knocks breath from my lungs, and I’m pretty sure I’m moaning and cursing, but my brain can’t zero in on anything except the way Ian’s dick feels and his deliciously painful grip on my hips.
His weight shifts. Ian pushes me all the way down to the mattress, the cool and slightly damp towel beneath me emphasizing the warmth of his skin against mine, and he fucks me deep and hard, and between his cock inside me and his hot breath on my neck, I’m losing my mind. Nothing else exists, nothing else matters—just my husband’s amazing body against mine, his cock driving into me, my own cock rubbing against the coarse towel, and the orgasm that’s building by the second.
I claw at the bed. Curl my toes. Try to complement his thrusts, but I can’t move, so I just lie there. Lie there, close my eyes, enjoy the ride. Holy hell, I love the way this man fucks me. My orgasm is both irrelevant and inevitable—I don’t care if I ever come, because I feel so, so good, but I will because it’s impossible not to when Ian’s body is against me and his cock is moving inside me.
He groans in my ear. “Goddamn, you get tight when you’re close. You are…so…”
I bite my lip, squeezing my eyes shut and trying not to come quite yet. He’s close too, and I love how he sounds—the way his breath catches, the way his voice is strained and shaky.
Somehow, he manages to thrust even harder, as if he thinks he can possibly get any deeper inside me. I press my forehead into the mattress, gripping the edges of the towel and holding my breath and—
And he sinks his teeth into my shoulder.
And I come.
One second, I’m on the verge, and the next, I’m gone, and Ian knows just how to keep me going, fucking me relentlessly as I gasp and cry out and fall to pieces beneath him.
Then I collapse. All I can do now is lie there and be fucked, taking him again and again while aftershocks ripple through me and my fingers knead the comforter.
“ Fuck .” Ian grunts. Forces himself into me. Trembles.
And exhales, his whole body relaxing on top of mine as cool breath rushes past my neck.
“Jesus,” I breathe.
He drops a light kiss on my shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
I snort and roll my eyes. “Arrogant bastard.”
Chuckling, he kisses the spot where he bit me. “Arrogant bastard who just made you come.” He withdraws slowly. “So as I said, you’re welcome.”
I push myself up on shaky arms and glare playfully at him but can’t help laughing. “Well, if
Similar Books
