“I fucking like it all.”
Need twists deep in my core. All I want is for him to plunge inside me and end this throbbing ache. It doesn’t need to be slow and sensual. I just want him to take me hard, fast, and deep.
“Yeah?” I press languid circles against my clit and let out a soft moan. “Show me how much you like it all.”
He prowls close. “But I’m enjoying this.”
“Wouldn’t you enjoy it more if this were you?” I slide a finger inside myself.
Placing his arms on either side of me, he hovers over me. “But it is. Those may be your fingers, but I know it’s me you’re pretending is pumping into that sweet little cunt.”
My belly clenches. I release an unintelligible whimper that somehow combines the words god, fuck, and oh.
“You like that? You like when I talk dirty to you?” he says, his mouth scant inches from my ear. “When you listen to your erotic audios, do they sound like me?”
“Yes.”
“Just as I thought.” He takes my earlobe between his teeth and bites gently. “And it’s me that you think about when you listen to them? When you touch yourself?”
“Yes,” I whine, pushing a second finger inside of me.
“Some men would be jealous of that.” He skates his nose down my neck. “But those audios just whetted your appetite for me, didn’t they?”
“Yes.”
“It’s my cock you want inside you.”
“Yes,” I pant, pressure curling tight at my center.
“Then be a good girl and fuck yourself with your fingers like it is me,” he growls.
I’ve never lost myself like this. The fantasy and reality twine together in a visceral experience. My body wound tight from both his words and my touch. It’s as if he’s the one deep inside me instead of hovering over me, his arms caging me in and the heat of his stare locked on me tipping me closer.
“Skin all pink. Eyes glossy. Brow sweat-kissed. You’re so close, aren’t you?”
“So close…” I cry, the crank turning tighter.
“Crook your fingers inside your cunt, pretty girl.” His low bass rumbles through me.
And with that, I break. The orgasm slams into me with the force of a freight train. My body shudders around my shaking fingers.
“That’s my girl.” He drinks up my moans in a deep kiss. “Let me have a taste.” He guides my fingers into his mouth.
The satiation that dripped along my veins is gone. Needs spools tight as he sucks my fingers clean.
“Not enough.” He lowers to his knees in front of me, hooking my legs over his shoulders. “More,” he growls before burying his face at my center.
He’s greedy for me—consuming me in indulgent licks and sucks. As much as he takes, he gives. I am both wanton and fulfilled with the way he drinks me up.
“Oh!” I fall back against the couch, release crashing through me.
Kissing my forehead, he scoops me up and carries me to the bed.
Sated, I relax against him. This man can say depraved things and coax out the brazen side of me, a side I’ve only explored in my fantasies, but still wrap me in tenderness with how he holds me. With him, I don’t have to be just one thing, and neither does he.
Once he deposits me on the bed, I slip my glasses off while he begins to undress. He places several condom packets on the bedstand beside my glasses. Grinning, I touch each packet, counting out loud.
“Eight condoms… Someone has plans.”
