So I push off the bra, hook my fingers in my panties.
He could turn me down, and if he does, I won’t ever let him near me again. I can’t. I won’t.
“Turn around and bend over.”
Heart thudding, I do as I’m told.
“Fucking gorgeous, Molly. Take them down. Slowly.”
Shaking, I do.
“Now spread your lips for me, show me how pretty and pink you are.”
His voice is a soft, sweet caress over my senses and my skin. It’s like lips trailing warm and gentle over my flesh.
How does he touch without touching?
I can’t stop shaking. I reach behind me, touching myself, my pussy throbbing and hot and so wet my fingers slip.
But I pull my lips open, the air cool on me, and I wait for the flood of heat. It comes, but it doesn’t consume, instead it races right down to my pussy.
That’s when he touches me, a match to my flame and I flare high into the sky as he pushes a finger into me. Pleasure blossoms everywhere.
“Shit, Molly, you just came.” He grabs me by the waist and spins me around, picking me up and kissing me in the most shattering way that’s soft and beguiling and anything but gentle. He walks us to the bed, and we drop into the plush mattress. He rolls me on top so he can draw me into himas he kisses me long and deep and heavy, his tongue a welcome invasion.
I want it all. Him in me, me on him, I want to fuck him and suck his cock, I want his mouth on my clit and his fingers buried in me, and I even want him to tie me up so I can’t move. I want to be at his mercy in all the ways, and I want him to be at mine.
I rip the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel his flesh against mine. I kiss my way down, biting and licking his throat, and then I claw at his belt.
He grabs my hair, holding my head back in a firm grip, and then he rolls us back over so I’m under him. “Ah, Jesus, you’re as hungry for this as I am,” he mutters as he pins me, and then starts to kiss me all over. “Stay still and let me?—”
“I want you now,” I say. I’m delirious, in a fever, the orgasm he gave me not enough. There’s a hollow throb in me that I need filled and he laughs.
“Fuck, Marlowe, if I’d have known how hungry for cock you are, I’d have fucked you ages ago.”
A shudder runs through me. I am his. No one else’s. His. And the fever’s in deep, unspooling my commonsense like it’s unspooling the rest of me. He grabs my hands and holds them above my head.
I’m burning.
I need. So badly.
His zipper hisses and then he strokes a finger over my wetness, making me shudder. I cry out, because it’s not enough. And then something huge is there, hard like steel in hot silk and big. Holy shit big.
He pushes into me, and I choke on a gasp at the sudden, scorching assault. I tense, tears springing to my eyes because it’s a sharp stab slicing into me, things stretching beyond what I’m sure they’re meant to.
“Shit,” he mutters, but I rasp, clinging to him, and seek out his mouth to distract me from the burning pain of his cock plundering my pussy.
“Fuck me. Please,” I whimper as the heat subsides, replaced by the sizzle of bliss.
He mutters words I don’t hear as his body stills, then he starts to move, slow at first. As I lift my hips for more, he thrusts deep, that aching stretch is now welcome. When he surges into me, his cock fills up the hollowness, and my body grips him as he pulls out. I claw his back through the shirt, wrapping my legs high around his waist and he hisses, sinking his teeth into my throat, sucking hard. I convulse under him, moaning.
Then his mouth is back on mine. He slams into me like he wants to split me open and oh, fuck, does it feel good.
And then his free hand slips between us and he squeezes my clit.
I explode, shattering as a deep throbbing rocks me. I can’t breathe. I’m part of him, his body welcome on mine, in mine. He thrusts into me one more time and then he holds, his cock twitching, growing as he breaks the kiss.
“Fuck.”
