“What the fuck do you think I’m doing?” I bite her shouldersoft and thrust in hard and deep and hold it as little ripples roll down my cock.
And my groan rises, along with the pleasure that claws through me, making my balls ache. But while I want to fuck her into oblivion, I try to keep my control tight. It’s hard because this woman’s perfection, from the smoothness of her skin, to how she fits me, all the way to her sweet taste and caustic little bite.
Everything is the kind of perfect storm of chaos I like.
What gets me going even harder is how her claws and fight and chaotic mess of clashing messages happens beneath the pristine and disciplined ballerina good girl from Fifth Avenue surface.
“Did you think I was going to claim your ass, there, Molly girl?”
“Yes!”
I’m not one to miss that unspoken invitation.
Virgin to expert in seconds flat, and I wonder if she’s got any fucking idea how I want to go there with her. In every way, every place I can think of.
She pushes back on me. Once. Twice. Harder each time. Grinding on me. Molly’s got style.
“Oh, this feels…so…exciting…” she whispers.
Fuck. She’s wet, so tight around me. I slam into her and wrap my arm around her, finding her clit with my free hand so I can control the thrusts. I twist and stroke and thrum her clit until she tightens up on my dick and comes.
It’s a full-body convulsion with little cries and hardcore spasms that send me spiraling.
Every ripple and intense contraction is the sweetest fucking agony to me. I’m aching. I’m trying not to cum because I want this to beabout her.
I hold it, rocking lightly as I stroke her clit as she’s swept away by a second orgasm.
When she’s done, she starts to flop on the sofa and I ease out, gathering her in my arms and carrying her over to the bed.
I’d love for her to ride me. And if this is the only night we fuck, I’m taking full advantage.
But it’s not going to be the only night.
“You didn’t…” She stops, sits up, pushing her flame red hair from her face as she gives me a dark, coppery look, full to the brim with suspicion.
“I didn’t what? Use your words, I know you can.”
She twists a nipple beneath the shirt I’m still wearing, and I raise a brow. “You didn’t make me suck your cock.”
I’m not gonna lie here, of all the things I thought she might ask, that never made the list. “No, but I want it. I’m not aneejit.”
“Well…”
I ignore thatwell, because I don’t think it was said as an offer, more as a counterpoint to me claiming not to be a fool.
She’s the kind of girl a man could be a fool over. Lucky I don’t like her. Lucky I just want to ravage her body. But other men might, and other men aren’t my problem down the line. Not the weird ass maybe marriage waiting in the wings that stinks of wanting all her money she’ll inherit. Not any men she might sleep with. When the job’s done, we’re done, and I’ll never think of Molly again.
I grab her wrists and flip her so I’m on top. “If you weren’t two steps away from being a virgin, there are a lot of things I’d do to you.”
“If,” she says, eyes flashing, “I let you.”
“Other way around, Marlowe.” I stretch her arms up, planting a thigh between hers. I’m hard. I’m more than ready, I’m teetering on a blue-balled kind of mood. “You need to recover. I’m basically a saint.”
“I’m not a nun.”
“No, you’re a brat who was, up until a wee while ago, a virgin.”
“I’ve sucked cock.”
