“I know,” he says, his voice low. I can’t speak, and as if he can read my mind, he starts to move. Slow at first, pacing himself. I clap my legs around his waist, locking my ankles together. Needing more, I press my front against his and he drags himself in and out of me, winding my arms around his neck. Without asking, he gives me everything he knows I need.
His hands grip my arse, anchoring us together, and without pulling out, he lifts me. Buried inside me, he carries me to the bedroom, gently sitting at the edge of the bed. My knees sink into the mattress as I straddle him. His cock twitches inside me and I brace my hands on his strong shoulders and begin to move, lifting, sinking again, slower, then faster.
His eyes fix on me as his hands cling to my hips, guiding me up and down.
“You’re even more beautiful like this,” he groans. “Fucked out and mine.”
I roll my hips faster, picking up the pace. He’s so much deeper in this position.
“I can feel you everywhere,” I breathe.
His muscles flex as he guides me up and down, the sharp sound of flesh meeting flesh cracking through the room as he meets me thrust for thrust.
He lifts his hand, and I watch—panting—as he spits into his palm, curling his fingers to rub them against the saliva. A low, desperate moan escapes me as he slides his thick fingers down, pressing them against my arse.
I curve my spine, anticipating the delicious stretch I crave so badly—I want him to fill me.Everywhere.
A finger circles my hole, teasing me, pressing lightly against my back entrance. I gasp, reveling in the sensation.
“Do you want me to take you here?” His breath is hot against my neck, and I nod frantically.
He slaps my arse. “All fours.”
Lifting off him, I do as he commands, falling to all fours on the bed, my fingers digging into the expensive cotton sheets.
He drops to his knees behind me—I’d blush at the way he shamelessly inspects my pussy and arse. It’s deeply personal, and I love it.
I wiggle my hips, silently begging.
His mouth latches onto my pussy, dragging a firm, deliberate line from my front to my back. I buck my hips, growing impossibly wet.
I’ve had rim jobs before, but this is something else entirely.
His tongue draws circles around my tight hole, and I release a low, keening moan.
“I’m going to work you open, sweetheart,” he says, thrusting two fingers inside me and curling them. My entire body bows as pleasure rolls through me in waves. I whimper, pressing back against his hand, greedy for more.
“That’s it,” he coos, spreading my juices up my crack and around my hole. I look back, and gently, ever so slowly, he presses one finger inside my arse.
“I can take you,” I pant.
“I know you can. Such a good girl,” he growls.
My vision swims as he continues to fuck me deep with both hands, teasing, coaxing and building me up until I’m nothing but raw, exposed nerves.
He carefully slips a second finger in my back hole; this time, I take it easily. My breath hitches, but not from discomfort—fromneed. He patiently works me open, my body turning into a live wire.
“You’re nearly ready.” His voice is strained.
“Plug,” I pant, barely able to speak. “In my bag.”
He pauses. “You brought the plug?”
I nod, my cheeks pressing into the sheets.
“Fuck,” he groans, pressing a kiss to my spine, then stands. “I’m going to get it, okay, baby?”
“O-Okay,” I breathe.
