“Enough,” he finally says, pulling my hair a little harder, making his dick pop out of my mouth with a loudpop. “Come here.” Hand still knotted in my hair, he helps me move up his body before slamming his mouth against mine, his tongue thrusting into my mouth, coaxing mine into his mouth where he gives it a quick suck.
“Condom,” he says with a chin lift toward my night stand. “Now.” His commanding tone does something to me. I can’t explain it, but it makes my insides clench. I open the drawer and grab a square packet, then I freeze. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never opened one, never really touched one. Last time, he took care of it all.
Sensing my insecurity, his hand squeezes my hip as he says, “Open it.” His voice is soft, but still just as commanding as it was ten seconds ago. I open the metallic packaging, take out the condom, and feel my blush deepen. “Pinch and hold the tip,” he explains, grabbing his dick with one hand, giving himself a tug up and down, making my thighs squeeze around him. He lets out a groan at my action, making my eyes rise to meet his. “As much as I like the thought of you watching me touch myself, I need inside your tight little cunt, so roll the condom down my dick while keeping the tip pinched.”
Following his words, with shaking hands, I slowly roll the condom down his length, making him shiver. His hands find my hips as he sits me right on top of his covered erection. His hands trace up my torso, covering my breasts, twisting my nipples, making me moan. One hand is still attached to my breast, while the other comes to the back of my neck, pulling me in for a wet kiss. Hand still at my neck, the other leaves my breast and tracks down to my covered ass.
“I want in here,” he says, his hand dipping lower and circling my entrance on top of my underwear, making me whimper. “I want in here,now. I know you’re wet enough, but do you want my fingers or my dick?”
My brain short circuits at his question.
“Answer me, Sloane. Fingers or cock?” he repeats.
“Co-ck,” I manage to get out.
“That’s my girl,” he says as he pulls my underwear to the side and thrusts all the way in in one shot.
“Liiaaam,” I moan out, throwing my head back, hands finding his chest as I grind down on him, finally getting the friction I so desperately crave. It only takes a few thrusts of my hips to have him groaning against my neck.
“That’s it, let me hear you,” he encourages, breathing heavily as he guides my hips back and forth on him, giving me more of that friction I was needing. It doesn’t take me long to get to the tethering edge of an orgasm.
“Liam,” I whine. “I need . . .” I don’t know what I need, but I need something.
“That’s it, baby. Grind that pussy all over me. Mark my dick as yours.” His words are exactly what I need. Stars erupt behind my eyelids and I feel myself ripple around him as one hand grips my hip hard, aiding my movement—back and forth—and the other is wrapped around and squeezing my butt cheek, hard enough that I’m sure I’ll have a mark later. It’s that thought, along with his lips wrapped around one of my nipples, sucking hard, that makes me moan out my climax.
“Fuck,” I whisper, slumping against him. “That was . . .” I can’t even find the words. My mind is blank.He literally fucked all thoughts out of me,I think to myself, blushing.
Only Liam can render me speechless.
I lie across his chest, him still inside of me, trying to catch my breath as I come down from whatever that was.
“Are you okay?” I hear him whisper, kissing the top of my head.
“That would be an understatement,” I tell him truthfully, making him chuckle. That’s when I remember. “What about you?”
“Sloane, you gave me the best head I’ve ever received. I came the second I entered you,” he admits, making me blush. After all we just did, I can’t believe he can still make me blush with just a few words.
“Now, come back down here. Let me hold you.” The command in his voice makes me shiver, which in return, makes him smirk knowingly.
“The condom?” I ask, letting him slip out of me. Quickly, he pulls it off, knots it, and places it on a tissue on my nightstand.
“There. Now, come here,” he says, pulling me closer by my hand.
I don’t know how long I’m lying on his chest, when he suddenly asks, “Was that okay?”
Was what okay? “What do you mean?” I asked, confused. Because, in my book, that was more than just okay. I mean, last time was also great—amazing even—but this time . . . I have no words. That was an out-of-this-world, out-of-body experience.
Still running soft fingers up and down my spine, making me want to curl up closer to him, he says, “I was a little rougher. More demanding.”
I’d noticed he was, but I also noticed, or am noticing now, that the more commanding he is the less I think and the more I just feel. It was freeing having him telling me what to do, when to do it, and all I could think about was the feeling of everything. I could concentrate on what was happening, and not on how I looked or if I was doing it right.
“I liked it,” I say, in a strong, confident voice so he knows I’m not lying.
“You did?” he asks for confirmation.
“Promise. It made it all just . . .” I trail off, not really knowing how to continue. “It was freeing, I guess,” I tell him, hoping he understands.
“Freeing,” he questions, his fingers never stopping.
