I lie alongside her and press my wet dick into her hip and take her nipple into my mouth and slide my fingers inside her, deep inside her. I begin massaging that particular spot at her farthest reaches—and with each stroke of my fingers inside her, and each word whispered into her ear about how hot she is and how much she turns me on and how hard I am for her, she keeps ramping up and up and up, until she’s arching her back and writhing and groaning like she’s being gutted.
“That’s it, baby,” I whisper. “Get it.”
She makes a primal sound.
“Come for me,” I grit out.
Whatever shards of inhibitions might have remained when we fucked the first time around have been obliterated now—she’s clearly not holding a damned thing back.And it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.She’s a wild animal, absolutely inhuman—which makes me feel like a wild animal, too.
“Say my name when you come,” I whisper. “Say it for me.”
She comes, my name barreling out of her mouth—and it’s so fucking glorious, I almost come myself.
When she’s done climaxing, I kiss her and stroke her again, this time working her G-spot. I ramp her up and up, stroking her, massaging, coaxing, until she jerks and shudders and comes for me again. I do it again and again to her, and each time, she heaves and screams and shudders and whimpers more and more forcefully, until, finally, it’s like I’m dragging her body through the pits of hell and she’s got tears streaming down her cheeks and sweat beading between her breasts and I’m on the cusp of coming myself, just from the pleasure of watching her lose herself so completely.
Without warning, she grabs my dick and bites my nipple so hard, I feel like I’m gonna black out from the glorious pain. “Fuck. Me.Asshole,” she grits out.
Oh, God, my new three favorite words.
In a heartbeat, I’ve got my hard-on covered and I’m on top of her with her legs thrown straight up in the air. I slide into her warm, tight, wetness, and, at my entry, we both let out loud groans of relief and pleasure. She’s perfect. Supernatural. Sex has never felt this good—she’s a whole new species of woman.
I kiss her and fuck her, touching her beautiful face as I move in and out of her, grinding my pelvis at just the right angle to make that little metal ball at the base of my cock send her to heaven.
We shift positions. She wraps her arms and legs tightly around me, giving herself to me completely. Oh, God, the way this woman turns me on isn’t normal. Every movement of our bodies, every beat of our hearts, feels preordained.
“I hate you so much,” she whispers, but she’s growling with ecstasy as she says it.
“Say you’re mine,” I grit out.
“Fuck you,” she whispers, her breathing ragged.
“Nobody can make you feel this good but me,” I whisper. “Admit it.”
“Fuck you. Oh, God.” Without warning, she arches her back violently, and lets out a sound that tells me she’s a hair’s breath away from total and complete rapture. “I hate you.”
“Fucking a guy you hate feels damned good, huh?”
She whimpers. “Yes.”
“Best you ever had.”
She moans.
“Tell me you hate me again.”
“I hate you.”
I clasp my fingers in hers as I move in and out of her, slamming against her clit with my piercing over and over. “You like that?”
“Yes. Oh, God, yes. So good. So fucking good. I hate you so much.”
Holy shit, my body’s on the bitter edge. What kind of crazy fuck am I to be turned on by this woman telling me she hates me? But, oh my God, I am. Fuck, yes, I am. “Come for me, baby,” I whisper. “Say my name for me.”
She cries out, saying my name, as commanded, and my cock is squeezed and massaged as her muscles ripple with pleasure.
I increase the intensity of my thrusts, my body on the verge of a massive orgasm. At my fervor, she frantically cups my cheeks and kisses my lips and twists my nipples and claws at my back—all while I grip her hair and grind my body in and out of hers, barreling like a motherfucker toward my own release. When it finally comes, when my body finally lets go, the sensation is so intense, I feel physically disoriented by the pleasure, like I’m tumbling out an airplane at thirty thousand feet without a parachute.
Finally, when my body’s quieted down, all I can do is lie on top of her, trying to catch my breath, my lips pressed against her sweaty cheek.
