“It’s not fast,” I whisper. “It’s… finally.”
He stills for half a second, like those words hit center mass.
Then his mouth finds mine again—slow, deep, consuming—and the heat between us spikes in a way that feels inevitable.
The night folds around us; the lake glimmers in the corner of my vision; his body presses into mine with intent that neither of us is pretending to ignore.
Ethan's fingers hook under the hem of my vest, tugging it upward with a deliberate slowness that makes my skin prickle. I lift my arms without thinking, letting him peel the thin fabric over my head, exposing the lacy black bra hugging my breasts. The cool night air kisses my bare shoulders, but his gaze burns hotter, raking over me like he's memorizing every curve.
"Bloody hell, Lucky," he mutters in that dry British drawl, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're full of surprises under there."
I laugh breathlessly, cutting through the tension. "Says the guy who hasn't shown me anything yet. Fair's fair."
His eyes darken, amusement flickering before dominance takes over. He steps back just enough to unbutton his shirt, those rolled-up sleeves giving way as he shrugs it off his shoulders. My breath stutters when his chest comes into view—well-defined muscles etched with intricate ink, swirling patterns across his pecs and down his ribs that I never expected from the buttoned-up guy next door. He's fit, like he spends his days lifting more than just coffee mugs, and the tattoos add this edge that makes my core clench.
"Didn't peg you for the inked type," I say, my voice husky, reaching out to trace a line along his collarbone.
He catches my wrist, pinning it gently to the table beside me. "And I didn't peg you for the type to stare like you've just won the lottery. But here we are." His tone is teasing, dry as ever, but his grip tightens, pulling me into his control.
He leans in, capturing my mouth in a bruising kiss while his free hand works the button of my skinny black denim jeans. The zipper rasps down, and I lie back as he yanks them off my hips with efficient force, the fabric scraping along my thighs until I'm left in just my bra, thong, and barefoot on the wooden table. The lake breeze whispers over my exposed skin, but Ethan's body heat chases it away as he stands between my spread legs.
"Lift," he commands softly, and I do, arching my back so he can unclasp my bra. It falls away, my nipples pebbling instantly under his stare. He doesn't rush—his mouth latches onto one breast, sucking hard while his teeth graze the sensitive peak. I moan, threading my fingers through his hair, the contrast of his rough stubble against my soft skin sending sparks straight to my pussy.
But he doesn't stop there. His hands slide down, thumbs hooking into the sides of my thong. With a swift tug, he drags it off, leaving me completely bare. The thin scrap of lace dangles from his finger before he tosses it aside, his eyes locked on my slick folds.
"Christ, you're soaked already," he says, voice low and gravelly. "All for me?"
"Yes," I gasp, my legs parting wider on instinct. "Ethan, please..."
He doesn't make me beg long. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me open as he kneels and lowers his head. His tongue flicks out, tracing my slit from bottom to top in one long, flat stroke. I cry out, the sensation electric, his warm mouth devouring me like he's starved. He laps at my clit, circling it with firm pressure, then sucks it between his lips, the pull making my hips buck against his face.
"Fuck, you taste like sin," he growls against me, the vibration humming through my core. His tongue dives deeper, thrusting inside my pussy, fucking me with it while his thumb presses circles over my clit. I watch him through half-lidded eyes, the sight of his inked shoulders flexing as he eats me out—tattoos shifting with every movement—pushing me closer to the edge. My juices coat his chin, and he doesn't care, just keeps going, relentless.
The orgasm builds fast, coiling tight in my belly. "Ethan—I'm gonna—" My words cut off in a whimper as he sucks harder, his fingers digging into my ass to hold me steady. I shatter, waves of pleasure crashing over me, my pussy clenching around nothing as I come on his tongue. He doesn't stop, licking me through it until I'm trembling, oversensitive, and panting.
He rises then, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, that smug grin in place. "Good girl. Now, let's see how you handle the rest."
I sit up on shaky elbows, eyes dropping to his jeans. "Your turn. I want to see you—all of you."
He chuckles, low and dark. "Bossy for a naked woman who’s just orgasmed. Alright, then." He kicks off his black boots first, the thudechoing softly against the patio. Then his jeans slide down, revealing strong thighs and the outline of his boxers straining against his erection. My mouth goes dry as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband and pulls them down.
His cock springs free, thick and long, veined and curving slightly upward, the head already leaking pre-cum. I gasp outright, unable to hide it—it's bigger than I imagined, intimidating in the best way. "Holy shit, Ethan. That's... wow."
"Flattery will get you everywhere," he quips dryly, but his eyes are intense, stepping closer so his shaft bobs near my thigh. "But I don't plan on going easy."
He doesn't. Grabbing my waist, he flips me onto my stomach with dominant ease, pulling my ass up so I'm on all fours on the table. The wood is cool against my knees, but his hands are fire as he positions himself behind me. His cock nudges my entrance, slick from my earlier release, and he thrusts in deep with one smooth stroke. I cry out, stretched full, the burn of his size mixing with pure bliss as he bottoms out, balls slapping my clit.
"Tight as fuck," he groans, his accent thickening with lust. He doesn't wait, pulling back and slamming in again, setting a hard rhythm. His hips piston, cock dragging along my walls, hitting that spot inside that makes stars burst behind my eyes. I push back, meeting him thrust for thrust, but he's in control, one hand fisting my hair to arch my back further.
We move like that for what feels like ages—him pounding my pussy relentlessly, the table creaking under us. Sweat slicks our skin, the lake's hush broken only by my moans and the wet slap of flesh. I'm impressed already; most guys would've tapped out by now, but Ethan's stamina is endless, his dominance unyielding as he spanks my ass once, twice, the sting heightening everything.
"Not done yet," he murmurs, pulling out suddenly. He maneuvers me onto my back, legs over his shoulders, folding me in half. Sliding back in, he fucks me deeper this way, his inked chest heaving above me, tattoos glistening with sweat. I claw at his arms, overwhelmed by how he owns every inch of me, his cock stretching me wide with each plunge.
"You take it so well," he says, voice rough. "Like you were made for this—for me." His dry humor slips in even now, but it's laced with possession that makes my heart race.
Another orgasm rips through me, my pussy clamping down on him as I scream his name. He grunts, thrusting through it, but doesn't come—his control is ironclad. He pulls out again, flipping me to straddle him as he sits on the table's edge. I sink down onto his cock, riding him hard, my breasts bouncing with each bounce. His hands grip my hips, guiding me, forcing me to take him all.
"That's it, Lucky. Ride my dick like you mean it." His thumbs brush my nipples, pinching as I grind down, the friction on my clit building fast.
