He enters me slowly, his dark blue gaze intent on my own, our joint appreciation hitting the air as hungered, helpless sounds. My arse in his hands, he lifts me, setting the pace and depth as I pulse around him, squirm under him. He fucks me deeply, thrusting from tip to base, then feeding me short jabs of his hips.
And I love it. Love it all.
‘I can feel you pulsing around me,’ he grunts, driving his cock into me like my body is something he owns. ‘Tell me how it feels.’
‘I-it feels like I’m yours.’
‘That’s right,’ he rasps, pinning me into place. ‘I own this pussy. I own every inch of you. From your wild curling hair to your abundant heart.’
I grind against him as he whispers his sweet filthy promises, whimpering and calling out his name again and again, the edges of my last orgasm tied to this one.
And when I’m an aching and sated, a sensitive twitching mess, Flynn brings my hands to my head, pinning them there against the bed. His arms shake as he delivers long urgent strokes, his face contorted in ecstasy as he finally comes.
