“Now sit on my cock, Amelia. All of it.”
Whimpering, I sit back down, lowering myself onto him, and I feel the give as my walls expand, stretching, molding to the shape of him as he infiltrates every iota of space I have to offer him, claiming it as his own.
We both groan as the rest of him finds its way home and he bottoms out, skin to skin past the base of the condom.
He spews a string of curses, as my entire world shifts to adjust to the feel of him, a chill erupting over my entire body, nipples peaking.
“Start moving,” he orders me, and his hands grip my ass cheeks and lift me up, bouncing me there.
The feel of his hands owning me like that, while his cock invades me, the tips of his fingers slipping back into my crack with every jostle of my body on his, it sends me over the edge. It’s so much. There’s somuchof him, it touches all of me. Every single spot that feels good and some new ones I didn’t know I was into. I can’t stop the spiral of pleasure, even if I wanted to.
“Fuck yeah,” he whispers, breaths heavy and labored as he lifts me up and down again, my legs failing me at this point. “Youcoming on my cock, been dreaming of this since we met. Let me feel it.”
My eyes flutter shut, the last image they see is his arms straining, jaw clenched, pecs and abs taut as he does the work for both of us, messy dark blond hair spilling over his forehead, tickling that gorgeous face of his. That’s what I picture as I fall, pleasure cresting and bursting, waves of it lapping against my nerves and receding out, as he keeps me moving, up then down over his hard length.
When I come back to consciousness, regain use of my limbs, his eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them.
“Jesus Christ, that was so fucking hot. What number was that?”
“Five,” I whisper, hardly able to form words.
“Damn right,” he says. “Two to go.”
His hips start pumping, pulling his hands back a bit, letting me regain control of my rhythm, and he matches me stroke for stroke. The slap of our skin, the press of him against my clit every time I sink down, it’s like a bonus for all my hard work. Encouragement to not let my legs give out, but to keep going and let myself get turned inside out all over again.
My last three hookups combined didn’t make me come this many times. Not even once have I come as hard with another partner as I have so many times already with Weston, the way it’s a violent storm, crashing against my cells, raking my nerve endings until they’re nothing but puddles.
Is this the universe giving me what I’m long overdue for? Or is this like a bear who’s about to hibernate for the long season ahead, stocking up while I can before I go so long without once more?
Either way, I’m not going to miss a single chance to get my fill of this man. And it doesn’t take long before another release is brewing, my nerves tingling with impending pleasure.
Weston watches greedily, so aware of what’s going on with me that he knows as soon as I’m close. One hand pinches my nipple, the other plays with my clit, and I hum, louder and louder, back to the open doors, the mountains behind me and the cool air tickling my skin as I ride him, coming apart from the inside out as he melts my fucking insides with a kind of mind-bending pleasure I never knew I was missing out on.
I always thought porn stars were faking it, but if any of those guys fuck like Weston, I can actually understand the way most of those women react. The faces they make, the way they scream, how they can’t get enough.
I’ve never been that girl before tonight, but I’m surprising myself with my enthusiasm here. My insatiable appetite, able to not just come during intercourse, but over and over again. I’m normally kicking the guy out the door after a single hard-earned O, done for the night, ready to get back on the road, happy to be alone with Van Gogh and my vibrator and onto the next adventure.
This? This is a feeling I could get addicted to.
My movements slow as I come down from the sixth high so far of the very long night, and I’m nowhere near done yet.
“How many times are you going to come for me?” I ask him, a teasing smile on my face. Any bite I might have is probably long gone, I can feel my eyes are bleary, hazy from bliss, my cheeks rosy, my nipples permanently pebbled at this point, and somehow my pussy is still hanging in there, still here for the ride. She’s a trooper.
“As many as you tell me to,” he says, hands on my hips, tongue on his lower lip.
“Such a good boy,” I tease him, watch his eyes glow when I do. “I want your first one of the night next. But I want to ride you reverse when you come.”
“You can ride me any way you want to,” he spits out. “If you circle back to the Heights, you can use my lap as your personal saddle next time.”
“I thought that was your face?”
“That too. My dick. My mouth. Fuck, they’re all yours, darlin’. Take them.”
He must be close to coming, because now he’s just spitting nonsense. He’d probably give me his wallet and everything in it if I asked him right now.
We work in tandem to spin me around, resituating me so I’m facing the view outdoors, the faintest light in the sky highlighting some of the furthest peaks on the horizon.
I lean forward, arms outstretched, hands on his thighs as I find my pace like this.
