And then her hands are moving, unbuckling my belt as she keeps her gaze locked on me and says, “It’s only fair. I’m naked, and you still haven’t shown me your cock.” Oh, she’s interested in what I look like. Removing my hand from her skin, I let her undo the zipper so my cock can spring free, and the shirt that was around my hand drops.
“I want to fuck you,” I tell her, but her attention is on my cock. With a light grip, I wrap my fingers around her throat and push her back. “My cock wants to see what you feel like. You want that, don’t you, sweetheart?” Her eyes grow wild. “You do.”
And she nods her head.
I lift her up with my hands under her ass until her legs wrap around my waist. Both of us look down as I lower her straight onto my cock. The minute I feel her entrance surround my tip, it’s like fucking music to my ears. Finally! my dick screams. Fucking finally.
Her nails dig into my back, and I welcome the pain mixed with the pleasure. When I look down at her perfect tits, the sight of my blood on her makes me thrust my hips into her more forcefully. She yelps and then catches her breath.
“Arlo.” My name comes out on a panted breath, and I look at her. “Kiss me.” I do so with pleasure. And then she grips my shoulders and starts bouncing on my fucking cock. Her sweet pussy wrapping around and choking it.
TWENTY-ONE
CORA
Sex is a funny thing. You either love it or hate it, depending on who you’re having it with. A lot of the time, I love it. I’ve always been a sexual person and never once thought of myself as a prude. But I feel naive and inexperienced compared to Arlo’s standards.
He bounces me on his cock, and my already sore clit loves the friction from it. The rest of my body is basically on fire.
This man can fuck me any time he pleases.
Just as an orgasm begins to build, he leans forward and bites my neck, then proceeds to suck it.
I’m too wrapped up in what his cock is currently doing to immediately notice one of his fingers slide into my ass.
“You like that, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Fuck, I hate that term of endearment. One of my mother’s husbands used to say that to her and then go out and get drunk. Arlo knows I hate it, and it’s why he plays on it.
See? He’s an asshole.
His cock pounds into me, establishing a punishing rhythm with the thick digit sliding in and out of my tender ass. And before I can stop myself, I’m biting down hard on his shoulder to stop a scream as my orgasm tears through me. My vision goes dark, my breath shallow, and my body a live wire of never-ending sparks. My pussy pulses and flutters, contracting around Arlo’s girth, his low groans and rapid breaths hitting my skin as every ounce of his warm cum fills me to overflowing, the excess trickling down my thigh in a sticky, explicit mess.
He clutches both of my ass cheeks as I manage to catch my breath while I continue to grasp hold of his shoulders.
“You can put me down now,” I tell him, managing words.
At first, I don’t think he will, but then he lowers me slowly until my feet hit the floor. I take a step back and then do a slow perusal of his body—his incredibly hard and chiseled body. He has perfectly tanned skin that complements his dark hair. Blood coats both of us now, and I try not to focus on it too much as I say, “I’ll get you a bandage.”
He cages me in and demands, “Look at me.” Sucking in a breath, I raise my eyes to his. “I can see you trying to deny this.” I shake my head. “Just let it happen. I promise you’ll like the outcome, just as you liked this one.”
His hand touches my face, and I note that the beads are once again wrapped around it. He watches me looking at them, and a sexy growl rumbles in his chest. “Next time, I’d like to try them here.” His fingers gently caress my neck. “Don’t worry, I think you’ll enjoy it.”
I don’t know what to say or do. Emotions are running rampant through me right now.
When I say nothing, he steps back, and I try to maintain eye contact, but I can’t help dropping my gaze. He is probably the most beautiful man I have ever been with in my life, and not only did he just give me multiple orgasms, but he wants to do it again.
Even after I assaulted him.
“I think you should leave,” I manage to say.
He nods, picks up his discarded shirt, and puts it on, leaving it unbuttoned, then slides his pants up and tucks his semihard cock away. He glances down at the glass scattered over the floor and then to my feet. Before I can say a word, he picks me up.
“Put me down.”
“Get me a broom to clean this glass up so you don’t cut yourself.” Moving me to a glass-free area of the room, he sets me down. Then he raises a brow, waiting for me to go get the broom. “If you want me to leave, then get it.” He waves a hand at me in a shooing motion, then drops down and starts picking up the larger shards.
Turning toward the kitchen, I feel his stare on me, but I don’t bother looking back. I find the broom and a dustpan in the pantry, then carry them back to where I left him. He’s still kneeling on the floor, but now he has a small pile of glass in one hand.
