His fingers are perfect.
This moment is perfect.
My hips jerk. My nails dig into his shoulders as pleasure spikes through me.
“So wet. So tight.”
I can only moan in response. My head falls back against the door, pressing into the cold wood, as he works me, his fingers slick with my arousal.
Two of them press inside me, stretching me. I cry out, my inner walls clenching greedily around him.
“You like that, baby?” His lips brush my ear.
“Yes,” I gasp. “God, yes.”
His chuckle is dark and satisfied. “Good. Because you’re gonna love this even more.”
His fingers slide free, and this time, he doesn’t tease.
This time, he pushes in.
I cry out as he fills me, inch by slow inch.
He’s big—thicker than his fingers. He stretches me in a way that borders on pain, and it’s electric.
We both groan this time. Raw, guttural, and inescapable.
“Fuck, you feel—” His voice breaks as his hips roll into me, driving him deeper. “So good.”
I can’t form words. I whimper, shivering in response.
He pulls back—just a little—then drives into me with a force that steals my breath.
I moan, my hands flying to his hair. I grip the strands as I meet his thrusts, rocking into him.
“Harder,” I beg. “Please, harder.”
His cock twitches inside me. “You’re greedy for it, aren’t you?”
“Yes!” I cry. “I want it. I want you.”
His pace picks up. His thrusts are sharper, deeper, harder. The picture frames continue to rattle beside us with every hit.
My orgasm builds, coiling tight in my belly. My pussy clenches around him with every thrust.
I tip my head back against the wall.
His thrusts are harder.
Faster.
This isn’t some sweet lovemaking session. It’s raw, hot, and brutal.
His mouth is on my neck. His teeth graze my pulse point before he sucks hard.
I cry out.
He growls against my skin. Low, primal, intoxicating.
