‘You know what I always wanted to do?’ Her voice is husky as I look up from tearing the condom open. I can see the effort it’s taken her to speak up.
‘Go on,’ I answer softly.
Her neck moves as she swallows, but I almost miss it, distracted by the movement of her hands at her breasts.
‘To have sex in front of a fire.’
My gaze slides to the fireplace and the cast iron stove that sits there, the embers of peat still glowing red. ‘You’ve never ... ’
‘Not even in a kitchen.’ She laughs a little then, her eyes falling away.
‘Darlin’,’ I say, moving towards her, ‘I’m going to fuck you so good, you won’t remember the bad times.’
She rises to meet me, taking my cock in her hand and causing me to hiss. My knees almost buckle as she immediately feeds me between her lips. If I was turned on before, and I fucking was, I’m now fit to burst as she tongues me as though I’m the best thing she’s ever tasted. And she makes these noises—these needy, wanton noises—that almost make me blow my load. And I swear on all that is holy, when she looks up at me through those thick dark lashes, her mouth stretched wide and her eyes as dark as the night outside, I lose all sense of reality.
‘Jesus...’ The word slides into a groan and, before I know it, I have her hair in my fist, though not to fuck her face. It’s to better watch her. To watch her lick and lave, to watch the sheer pleasure on her face. And those noises? They don’t stop. They only intensify. But this can’t continue, no matter how fucking perfect this feels.
All good things must come to a blinding end.
And as her hand drifts once more between her legs, one word floats to the surface of my mind.
Mine.
I pull back, her lips coming off my cock almost reluctantly before I bend over her, mashing my lips against hers. It’s not a tidy kiss, but the best kisses aren’t.Same goes for blow jobs, my mind unhelpfully supplies. I can taste us both—the musk of myself and the earthy taste of her.
I feel fucking delirious—in the kitchen, I’d imagined going slow, teasing her to her peak as I’d whispered sweet filthy nothings in her ear. I’d expected nothing this intense. I need to be inside her like I need nothing else.
My mouth still on hers, I press her back against the sofa and quickly sheath myself.
‘That’s so hot.’ My gaze flicks to where she’s still touching herself. ‘But don’t you fucking start without me.’ The second time, the words come out in a growl, and in a heartbeat, I’m over her, balanced on my knees and my forearm. We breathe in unison, once, twice, our moans hitting the air as I rub my cock through her wetness, pressuring her slippery clit with the tip. My whole body vibrates with need and tension, every fibre of my being screaming for relief, and as her body begins to accept my flesh, I realise I’m not the only one shaking.
I close my eyes, and with a thrust of my hips, we collide, need and desire in the flesh.
‘You’re gonna make me come so hard,’ I groan as her body pulses around me. My arms on either side of her head, I try to hold on to the sensation.Try to hold on to my fucking load.
‘Yes—yes. I want that,’ she whimpers under me. ‘Please, give me—’ Her words draw out into a moan as I pull back and, with a snap of my hips, drive into her again.
‘Yes!’
‘You like that, do you?’
‘Yes, God, yes! Again, please.’
‘Like this, you mean?’ This time, I pull back and slide into her inch by slow inch. ‘Or do you mean like this?’ My hand hooked under her thigh, I spread her wider, driving into her body hard and fast—one, two, three times. The change of angle alone alters the depth of my thrust, the power in my movements slapping skin against skin.
This time, Isobel doesn’t answer. At least, not with words. But her body speaks for her—her cries—as I begin to alternate my movements between slow slides and solid fucks until I’m not sure what day it is anymore.
Under me, Isobel’s cries change in intensity, her hands grasping my backside in that tell-all way. I change the tempo, thrusting firmly again and again, my body undulating against where she needs me—where I want to be.
‘I can’t ... I can’t .. .’
But she fucking can, and she will. My pace is so unyielding, the leather beneath us begins to protest and squeal.
‘Give it to me, darlin’. Give. It. To. Me.’ I growl the words in time with my thrusts as her cries reach a crescendo. Her body pulses its release around me as she throws her head back, my name on her lips like an appeal.
Job done. Job fucking done. Satisfaction fucking guaranteed.
My own release suddenly barrels down my spine, the sensation like lightning bolts. My body reacts, my mind no longer in charge, flexing and arching as this thing, this experience, fucking unravels me.
Undoes me.
With one final pound, I grind against her flesh, riding my high out just a little more. Then to fulfil a final request, I pull out my cock, whip off the rubber, then pinch the fat crown of my cock between my fingertips. My whole body screams in protest as I scramble upwards, my knee almost sliding from the leather. Underneath me, this gorgeous creature looks, in truth, a little alarmed. And, in truth, her looks makes this moment all the sweeter. But then she gets it and realisation dawns as she palms her creamy tits, allowing me to paint those pink pebbled nipples in lashings of cum.
