“Cold?” He’s already thrusting again, shallow and grinding.
“Fucking freezing, so don’t you dare stop.” I grab the back of his neck and pull his mouth to mine, kissing him hard, and the cold marble against my ass and his hot skin against my chest is a contrast that makes every nerve ending spark.
“You feel even tighter like this,” he grinds out, gripping the edge of the counter for leverage.
The angle from the counter is completely different. Deeper. He drives all the way in on the next stroke and hits a spot so far inside me that I cry out, my hands flying to his shoulders, my nails digging into muscle.
“Fuck, yes,” I breathe. “That angle. Stay right there.”
He grabs my ass with both hands and pulls me to the very edge, my tits pressed against his bare chest, nipples dragging against his skin with every movement, and when he starts thrusting the friction is everywhere. His pelvis grinding against my clit on every stroke. His chest against my swollen nipples. His cock dragging against my front wall and hitting deep.
“Yes yes yes,” I’m chanting against his shoulder, my arms locked around his neck, my hips meeting every thrust, and I can hear myself and I sound desperate and I don’t care. He picks upthe pace, driving into me faster, harder, and the wet sound of our bodies fills the kitchen along with my moans and his ragged breathing and the rhythmic thud of the counter against the wall behind it.
He buries his face in my neck and bites down on the spot below my ear, sucking hard, and my walls clench around him so tight he groans against my skin, a deep vibration that I feel everywhere.
“You’re incredible,” I say without thinking, and immediately want to shove the words back in my mouth.
His head lifts from my neck. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I didn’t quite catch it over all the moaning.”
“Not a chance. Your ego is already unmanageable.” I clench around him deliberately, squeezing his cock with my internal muscles, pulsing in a rhythm that matches his thrusts, and the sound he makes against my neck is deeply gratifying. Something between a moan and a curse, muffled against my skin.
“Fuck, Brooke, when you do that...” His hips lose their rhythm for a second before he recovers, driving in harder to compensate.
“When I do what? This?” I clench again, tighter, and his whole body shudders. “Or this?” I roll my hips in a slow circle with him buried to the hilt, grinding my clit against his pelvis.
His hand slides between us, thumb finding my clit, and he presses down and starts rubbing in tight fast circles. His mouth finds my nipple at the same time, sucking hard while his thumb works my clit and his cock drives into me, and the triple assault is too much, it’s everything at once, and I can feel my orgasm building like a wave that’s going to flatten me.
“I’m going to come,” I gasp, my fingers in his hair, my thighs shaking around him. “Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop, I’m so close.”
“Come on my cock,” he says against my breast, his thumb pressing firmer on my clit, driving deep and holding, grinding against that spot, and the wave crests.
My orgasm rips through my whole body and I scream loud enough that my neighbors definitely hear, my walls clamping down on his cock in violent pulses, my back arching, my legs locked around his waist. He fucks me through every wave, his thumb still circling my clit, extending it until I’m shaking and gasping and gripping his shoulders like they’re the only solid thing left in the world.
I’m still shaking when he pulls back enough to look at me, his face flushed and his breathing destroyed.
“Bedroom,” he manages. “Where’s your bedroom?”
I can’t form words. I just gesture down the hallway, a vague wave toward the door at the end, and he’s already lifting me off the counter.
“I’m not done with you,” he says.
I slide off the counter on legs that belong to someone else and he pulls out of me and the emptiness makes me grit my teeth. I grab his hand and pull him down the hallway, stepping out of my heels mid-stride, and by the time I reach the doorway I’m wearing nothing but the gold chain around my neck and the afterglow of an orgasm still buzzing through every nerve.
The bedroom is dark, with amber streetlight through the curtains. I turn at the foot of the bed and push him. Both hands flat on his chest. He goes down onto the mattress and I climb over him, one knee on either side of his hips, settling my weight onto his thighs. His cock is rigid against his stomach and I can feel the heat of it against my center as I shift above him.
I reach behind me and take his cock in my hand, position him at my entrance, and sink down slowly, inch by inch, feeling every ridge of him as my body opens around him. I take my time, letting the fullness build, watching his face while I do. His jawis clenched, his hands gripping my thighs, his stomach muscles trembling with the effort of letting me set the pace.
When I’m fully seated I plant my hands on his chest and lean forward slightly. The angle presses him against my front wall and a groan spills out of me before I can catch it.
“You like being in charge,” he says, looking up at me, his voice strained.
“I like you on your back.” I lift my hips and slam back down hard enough to draw a groan from both of us, grinding in a slow circle at the bottom. Then I start to ride him in earnest, bracing on his chest for leverage. The sounds coming out of me are shameless, moans on every downstroke, gasps when I grind at the bottom, and his hands are everywhere, my tits, my hips, my ass, grabbing and squeezing and pulling me down harder onto his cock.
“Fuck, you feel good,” I pant, and I don’t even care that I’m feeding his ego because it’s true, the angle from on top is devastating, every movement grinding my clit against his pelvis.
“Show me how good.” His hands grip my hips and he thrusts up to meet my downstrokes, adding force to every collision, and the impact drives him so deep I cry out, my nails digging into his chest. “That’s it. Take what you want.”
“I plan to.” I slam down again and clench around him deliberately, squeezing his cock with my internal muscles, and his head drops back into the pillow, a groan tearing through his whole chest. I do it again, pulsing around him, and his hands tighten on my hips so hard I can feel each individual finger pressing into my skin.
