We shift once more—he stands, lifting me effortlessly, my legs wrapped around his waist as he pins me against the patio railing. The lake air cools my heated skin, but his cock buried deep keeps me burning. He fucks up into me with powerful snaps, the new angle hitting my g-spot dead-on. I'm lost in it, impressed by how he doesn't falter, his need to dominate fueling every move—like he could go all night claiming me.
Finally, as my third climax crests, he growls low. "Come with me."
His thrusts stutter, and he floods my pussy with hot cum, the sensation tipping me over. We shudder together, locked in that perfect, raw connection, the night wrapping us in its glow.
He doesn't let go right away, holding me close, his breath ragged against my neck. "Told you it wasn't fast," he whispers, that dry wit returning. "It's just right."
I smile, spent and sated, knowing this is only the beginning.
Ethan lowers me gently back to the table, my legs still shaky from the intensity of it all. His cock slips out of me with a wet sound, a mix of our releases trickling down my thigh. He doesn't pull away completely—instead, he stays close, his inked chest rising and falling against mine as we both catch our breath. The patio lights cast a soft glow over his sweat-slicked skin, highlighting the tattoos that snake across his muscles, and I can't stop tracing them with my fingertips, mesmerized by the contrast of ink and flesh.
"You alright there, Lucky?" he asks, as his hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing away a stray hair. His eyes search mine, a flicker of genuine concern beneath the dominance, but it's clear he's already plotting the next move.
I nod, my voice a husky whisper. "More than alright. That was... intense." My tone feels bolder now, less tentative. I shift, feeling the ache between my legs—a good ache, the kind that promises more ifI want it. And I do. His stamina has me hooked; the way he took control without hesitation, switching positions like he owned my body, it's addictive.
He smirks, leaning in to nip at my earlobe. "Intense is just the starter. Night's young, and you've got me all riled up again." To prove it, his cock twitches against my hip, already half-hard and thickening. I glance down, biting my lip at the sight—still impressive, glistening from us.
“You were definitely holding back,” I tease, pressing my cheek against his chest. “All this time, I thought your stoicism was just… well, boring. But now…” I grin wickedly. “I can’t unsee it.”
He hums, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Boring, huh? That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever called me mid-sex.”
“Oh, thatwasn’tmeant to be nice,” I tease, feeling a thrill that he’s actually responding like this.
“Good,” he mutters, voice low and dry. “I prefer my compliments strategic. And you… you’re the most distracting thing I’ve had to control in years.”
Before I can respond, he scoops me up effortlessly, cradling me against his chest like I weigh nothing. The lake breeze cools my overheated skin as he carries me toward the patio door, the wooden planks creaking under his bare feet. "Inside," he murmurs. "Table's fine for a taste, but I want you properly spread out."
The door slides open, and he steps into the dimly lit living room, the scent of pine and faint cologne filling the air. He doesn't head for the couch—instead, he makes for the kitchen island, a wide marble slab that gleams under the overhead lights. With a sweep of his arm, he clears a space, pushing aside an iron fruit bowl that clatters to the floor. Then he sets me down on the cool surface, my bare ass contrasting sharply with the stone.
"On your back," he commands, voice low and authoritative. I comply, stretching out as he positions my legs over the edge, feet dangling. He stands between them, his hands roaming up my calves, knees, thighs—teasing, possessive. "Look at you, all flushed and ready for round two. Impressed yet?"
I prop myself on my elbows, meeting his gaze with a challenging grin. "A little. But don't get cocky—though that thing of yours definitely is." My eyes flick to his hardening shaft, and he chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.
"Cheeky woman," he teases, but there's heat in it. He drops to his knees again, this time right there on the kitchen floor, his broad shoulders forcing my thighs wider. Without preamble, he dives back in, his tongue lapping at the mess we made—his cum mixed with mine, cleaning me with long, deliberate strokes. I gasp, the sensation oversensitive but electric, my hips jerking up to meet his mouth.
He pins me with one hand on my stomach, the other spreading my lips open for better access. His tongue circles my clit, flicking it before sucking gently, then harder, drawing out whimpers I can'thold back.
"Tasting us," he growls against me. "That's what you do to me." His fingers join in, two sliding into my pussy, curling to hit that spongy spot inside while his mouth works my clit relentlessly.
I arch off the counter, one hand fisting his hair, the other gripping the edge for leverage. The marble is cold against my back, but his heat consumes me.
"Ethan—fuck, yes, right there." My words tumble out, breathless, as pleasure coils tight again. He's unyielding, pumping his fingers faster, his tongue thrusting in alongside them, fucking me open.
It doesn't take long; I'm still riding the high from before, and he knows it. My orgasm hits like a wave, my pussy clenching around his digits as I cry out, juices flooding his hand. He laps it all up, humming approval, until I'm limp and panting.
Rising, he wipes his mouth on his forearm, eyes dark with need. "Turn over. Ass up." His tone brooks no argument, that dominant edge sharpening. I roll onto my stomach, push up onto my knees, and present myself. The vulnerability thrills me—knowing he's in charge, his stamina showing no signs of waning.
He steps up behind me, his cock fully hard now, pressing against my entrance. But instead of sliding in, he teases, rubbing the head along my slit, coating himself in my wetness. "Beg for it," he says, voice gravelly, one hand spanking my ass lightly enough to sting and make me clench.
"Please, Ethan," I moan, pushing back. "Fuck me. I need your cock inside me again."
"Good girl." He thrusts in deep, filling me in one go, the stretch making me moan loud. His hands grip my hips, pulling me back onto him as he sets a punishing pace—hard, deep strokes that make my breasts sway and the island shake. Each slap of his balls against my clit builds the fire higher, his grunts mixing with my cries.
He leans over me, chest to my back, one arm banding around my waist to pinch my nipple while the other hand snakes down to rub my clit.
"You're mine tonight," he whispers in my ear, accent thick. "Every inch, every moan."
I nod frantically, lost in the rhythm, impressed all over again by how he drives into me without tiring—relentless, dominant, owning me completely. We go like that until another climax rips through me,my walls milking him. This time, he follows, groaning as he pumps his load deep inside, hot spurts painting my insides.
