Her face goes red—embarrassed? Turned on?—and I lick her deep, keeping our gazes locked, tight and intense. This pussy is mine, I decide, using my nose to spread her lips before flicking her clit with my tongue. Even if she doesn’t yet realize it.
This woman, her smell, her looks, that evil little sense of humor, even the off-key humming and the chicken laugh. I want all of it. Constantly.
“Colin, please. I need you inside me,” she finally says and, that admission, though tame in comparison with some of the things we’ve said tonight, sends me.
I bend and root around in my trouser pockets. A handful of condoms spill out onto the floor. I snag one, rip it open with my teeth, and roll it onto my erection in record time. All the while, she stares at my throbbing cock, her expression equal parts intimidated and excited.
I’m pounding with want as I step up and slide my cockhead through her slippery softness. “Lie back.” I grin, planting a kiss on her mouth. “And hold on.”
With a nervous laugh, she complies. For a half second, I can do nothing but stare at how she’s offered herself up to me, spread out on the kitchen counter.
Then I wrap an arm around her thigh, notch myself to that gorgeous little place I tongue-fucked with so much gusto, and press inside.
The first centimeter’s enough to make me throw my head back. After a moment, I get a grip on myself, tighten my hold, and tug her closer, leaning to give her just the slightest bit of weight at the same time.
“Oh, fucking hell, you’re tight.”
My eyes shut and I breathe through the unbearable pleasure of piercing this woman’s flesh with mine. Caught behind closed eyelids, we’re in the dark lift again, cut off from the world. The two of us nothing but voices, bodies, smells.
My composure cracks. I open my eyes, let the light in, the sight of her not helping me keep my cool in the least.
I work hard to get back control of my senses, let myself look down, and feast on the sight of us. It’s perfectly filthy the way I split her open with every press of my hips to hers. When the stretch becomes unbearably tight, I lean over, put a hand to her tit, my thumb to her clit, and play her like an instrument made just for me.
Immediately, she becomes a vise. Another flick of my thumb and she loosens. I thrust harder, moving her body on the counter, jiggling her tits, pushing a high gasp from her mouth. “That’s it, love. Take it. Take this fucking cock. Christ, look at you, all laid out like a feast. I want to…”
Her moaned response hits me low, in the balls and, rather than take my time the way I have been, my hands move to her hips and my short-circuiting body jerks her onto me.
Finally I’m in, bottoming out, blessedly, completely. “Fuck, your cunt’s fucking perfect.” With her next needy sound, I pull back and slam inside, my vision overcome with something greedy and dark. Another slam. Another. “How do you want it?”
She lifts her head and looks at me, our connection scarily palpable. “I want what you’ll give me. I want it all.”
“Don’t say that. You don’t know.”
“I want to be yours,” she gasps, pulling the thought straight from my head. “Do what you want to me. Make this yours. Take it. Yours.”
“God yes,” I gasp, powering inside her now, with none of my usual caution. The only part of me that’s not selfish is that thumb, tweaking her clit with every thrust. “Mine.”
“Yours, Colin. Yours.”
Another pump, explicit and slow enough to send tingles rushing to the base of my spine. “Do that again. Say it.”
“Yours.”
“My name.”
“Colin.”
I nod, grunting like an animal, fucking into her hard and fast and frantic. “You need to come, love. Come all over this cock. Come on it, squeeze it all out of me.” My mouth’s got a mind of its own now, dark and filthy and rough. “Fuck, I want to fill you.”
Images flash before my eyes—these tits ripe and dark, her belly massive and hard. I screw my eyes shut and try to shove it away, but more comes—my come dripping from her, my fingers and cock and tongue pressing it back inside, making her keep it, making her body keep it.
Shit, this is hot. And probably way too much for her, but I’m mindless now, my thighs burning, my cock going thicker, harder, the need to blow turning me into something monstrous, hungry, a little wrong. Or a lot.
“I want to fuck you bare,” I tell her, shocking myself. “I want to feel your skin against mine, raw, real.”
“Colin. Yeah. Yes. That’s good.” She’s scrabbling for a hold, her fingers scratching my arms, my arse when she can grasp it. “I want that. I need that, too. Fill me up.”
Her words are explosive. My body’s gone haywire, my hips too fast, my hands clutching, kneading, for her pleasure. I hope. I’m chaos. It’s all chaos. My brain, my muscles, the way the words tumble out: dark admissions from the abyss of my soul.
