“Yes, fuck…yes.” I’ve forgotten how words work. My mind is on an endless loop ofdon’t stop, don’t stop.
He reaches around, fingers finding my clit, rubbing fast, merciless circles. The dual sensation of his thick shaft dragging against my sensitive walls and his fingers tormenting my clit pushes me toward the edge again too fast.
“You’re going to come again,” he tells me. Not a question. A fact. “And you’re going to come screaming my name so every person on the street below knows who owns this cunt tonight.” I want to look down to see if anyone can see us this high up, but my eyes close because I’m overwhelmed by the multiple pleasures hitting my senses. And it feels so good I don’t fucking care who’s watching.
I can’t speak. I can only moan, sob, and beg.
My pussy flutters around him, greedy, desperate.
He slaps my ass hard. “Say my name.”
“Julian, please…”
“Louder.”
“Julian,” I cry out. “Own me, fuck, own my pussy.”
He roars, thrusts turning erratic, brutal. His fingers pinch my clit and I explode again, harder than before, vision whiting out. My walls milk him, spasming, dragging him deeper.
“Fuck, you’re such a good girl, taking my cock in your greedy cunt.” He slams into me one last time and stills, cock pulsing, flooding me with his cum. I feel every thick spurt, every twitch, and it sends aftershocks rippling through me.
We stay locked together, panting, his chest pressed to my back, his lips at my ear.
“You’re not done,” he murmurs. “Not even close.”
He pulls out slowly, and I whimper at the loss. Then he spins me, lifts me onto the wide balustrade so my ass sits on the edge, legs dangling. Moonlight bathes us both. His cock, still semi-hard, or maybe becoming hard again, glistens with my release.
“Spread your legs,” he orders. “Show me what’s mine.”
I do, shamelessly, thighs falling open, exposing my wet, flushed pink pussy. He watches, transfixed, then drags two fingers through the mess and lifts them to his mouth, sucking them.
“I love how you taste,” he says. “And I want you dripping for me for rest of the night.”
He steps between my thighs, grips my hips, and slides back in, slower this time, savoring the slick glide.
I wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass, pulling him deeper.
He fucks me like this, face to face, eyes locked, slow, deliberate rolls of his hips that grind his pelvis against my clit with every stroke. His mouth finds my tits, sucking one nipple deep, then the other, teeth grazing just enough to make me arch.
“You love this,” he murmurs against my skin. “Love being fucked out in the open. Love being filled.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Fuck, yes.”
He speeds up, thrusts turning sharp again. One hand wraps around my throat, not choking, just holding, possessive. The other grips my hip, bruising.
“Come for me again,” he demands. “Milk my cock. Show me how much you need it.”
I’m already there, teetering on the edge again.
His thumb finds my clit, rubbing fast, rough. I break with a strangled cry, pussy fluttering, gushing around him. He follows seconds later, burying himself to the hilt, groaning my name as he pumps into me until he shutters and stops.
We stay like that, sweaty and trembling, until the night air calms our heated skin.
He finally pulls out, tucks himself away, then kneels to retrieve my ruined panties and gown. He helps me down fromthe balustrade, fingers lingering on every curve, then presses a surprisingly tender kiss to my swollen mouth.
“The night still young,” he says, British accent thick with satisfaction. “And I’m not finished with you.”
I smile, legs shaky, pussy still throbbing with the memory of him.
