“Don’t stop,” Janella insists stubbornly. Her legs wrap around me, dragging me back inside of her, deeper. My breath hitches painfully.Fuck.This soaked heat is the closest to heaven I’ll ever get. “Don’tstop.”
She’s whining, begging. I’d told her she would, weeks ago—but what did I know then? Shit, what the fuck do I know now?
Only how good she feels.
And what it means, that she’s giving me this.
“I won’t,” I find myself promising, leaning down. My arms bear the brunt of my weight, my lips meeting hers moregently than they ever have—as if I can retroactively remedy giving the woman barely any foreplay before her first time.
Jesus fucking Christ.
She makes a tiny, wounded sound in the back of her throat. A whine I lick right out of her gasping mouth.
“Fucking Christ. You’re so fucking tight, doll,” I groan, forcing my body to slow down, to make this good for her.
I’ve fucked so many women—nameless, faceless, interchangeable to me now. All those bodies that have been under my hands, only to mean nothing to me come morning. I know how to fuck. It’s always been a quid pro quo deal, an itch to scratch, a great fucking way to burn off some adrenaline after a job.
But this—she—isn’t that.
This is Janella, looking up at me with tears shining in her big, golden eyes, and trust I haven’t earned. She’s giving me a piece of herself. She’s taking one from me, too.
I want to give it to her.
I crave this. I crave turning her delicate whimpers to choked screams. Want to feel her shake around and against me. Want to ruin her. Want too much, want everything she has to give, and I want it right fucking now. I’m a bastard that way. And what’s worse is that I almost don’t care.
Sheer willpower reminds me that I can’t have it that way.
I won’t let myself take it.
The slower I go, the more time she’ll have to adjust, and the less likely I am to bust a nut in the next three minutes.
My eyes roll somewhere very close to the back of my head. I can’t get over the intensity, or everything else about thiswoman—sensational and provocative, fragile and maddening. She’s going to fucking kill me, and I can’t bring myself to mind. Not if I get to go out like this, buried balls-deep inside of her and drowning in the gorgeous fucking sounds my movements elicit from her pretty mouth.
I cradle her cheek, thumb smoothing her tears away. I’ve done that many times by now, and never like this. I kiss her forehead. She’s doing so well. “Good girl,” I praise, amazed by her.
A second set of fingers trails down her body to her clit, rubbing small, tantalizing circles. I pull back nearly all the way out of her and press back an inch at a time. Giving her a little at a time. Never letting up on the swollen nub, where every flick of my thumb has her keening anew.
“Oh, God,” Janella cries, bucking up. “I can take it.Please.”
I lap at the sheen of sweat that’s begun to gloss her skin.
My smirk holds past her lips against mine, and through my teeth, when I taunt, “Can you?” like I’m not hissing it through ground teeth.
She grips my arms like they’re her last tether. She hasn’t figured out yet that none exists. Meanwhile, her nails break skin when I give her that first, real thrust. I fill her again, and again, each stroke meant to stoke a fire. I want her to know this—to understand it. What a pleasure it can be to burn.
Her legs fall apart even wider, giving herself to me.
I grip her at the waist and start pounding into her in earnest. The table shrieks in protest. Her tits bounce in a way that could make the Devil weep. Every slap of our bodies meeting is loud, obscene. Fucking perfect.
Her body is already shaking, her cries getting louder and louder. Maybe I should help her muffle them. We’re in her fucking café. But I don’t. I want to hear these sounds. They’re fuckingmine.
Arousal pools between my hips, building behind my navel with every squeeze of her dripping cunt. Her eyes glaze over, and she begins to writhe beneath me, like she can’t handle everything she is feeling.
“Is this what you wanted?” I breathe, my thrusts building in momentum. I lift her pelvis off the edge, just to get deeper—if that’s even fucking possible—until my mouth falls open.
Her mouth is already open, but no intelligible sound comes out.
This is what she looks like, lost to pleasure.
