‘You have been.’
An aftershock runs through me, a live line bringing me awake.
‘What? Have you? Dreamt about me?’ Like I’ve dreamed about you?
‘Eyes closed and eyes open.’ He shakes his head bringing my attention to the messy thatch of his dark hair. His jaw clenches as he reaches for his belt, throwing the angles of his cheekbones into sharp relief ... and bringing my attention to the bulge rightthere.
‘Does it hurt? When you’re hard like that?’
He nods, his eyes closing tight, swallowing as he answers. ‘It’s a good kind of hurt.’
‘Can I...’ Pushing up onto my elbows, I bite my lip but can’t keep from saying the words. ‘Can I touch it?’
In answer, he makes quick work of the rest of his clothes until, one knee on the mattress, he looms above me, his cock jutting out from his abs, hard and wet tipped, veins standing proud. It’s not the first penis I’ve seen, but I’ve never seen one in so candid a setting. I’ve never asked to have one made available to my inspection or touch.
I feel like I shouldn’t tell him his is the most beautiful, even if it definitely is.
I also feel like I shouldn’t tell him it’s the biggest I’ve ever come across.
Not that I’vecomeacrossany.
In a fit of daring, I push up onto my knees, pressing him back against the mattress to better explore the silken length of him, making him smile like a man who knows he’s in for a treat as he moves himself up the bed, sliding his hand under his head.
I trail a finger over the thick ridge of his crown, then explore the solid weight of him, the expanse of his girth. I curl my forefinger and thumb to experience the satin feel of him.
‘Like that?’ I whisper.
The muscles in his thighs tighten as I take his shaft in my hand.
‘Harder.’ His voice has a thickness to it, like he’s choking something back.
I lick my lips and lower them for the briefest of kisses to his crown. At least, that was the plan, but as Archer’s head falls back, I find myself opening wider and going down. . . my hum a counterpoint to his hiss.
‘That’s good. That’s so fucking good.’
I notice his hands ball into tense fists as I repeat the action, tightening my lips at his crown, hollowing my mouth for a slow return.
‘Sweetheart.’ The endearment is more plea for mercy as he reaches for me, pulling my body flush with his as he shoots me a swift but wicked smile. ‘I need to be inside you.’ I taste myself in our kisses, hurried and sloppy as we fight to get the condom on him, unable to unlock our mouths as though we can’t bear the lack of connection.
He presses his hand to my shoulder, moving me onto my back, veins popping and muscle sinew standing to attention as he pushes his hand next to my head to take his weight. It feels so good, the solid masculine weight of him. The rapture on his face as his cock slides through my heat, some unseen force driving me to widen my legs for him, the intrusion when it comes, so slick and so sublime.
‘Oh, God, you’re so big.’ My hands grasp his shoulders as though to hang on to the sensation.
‘We’re a perfect fit.’
But I don’t answer, unless you count my sigh as he draws back, filling me again, his gaze hooded as he watches me, his body more or less planked over me until he pulls back, his expression fierce as he flicks the tip of his tongue across both nipples in turn before taking them into his mouth.
‘I’ve been dying to do that all day. Those cherry tits have been driving me to distraction.’
Oh. My. God. Who knew it could be like this? Why didn’t anyone ever tell me words could cause this sort of thrill, as his next words are punctuated by a deep thrust of his hips.
‘You’re so tight.’
‘Your pussy feels like velvet.’
‘Every inch of you was made for my touch.’
My sighs turn to whimpers and my whimpers turn to cries, cries that become louder and more desperate as he picks up the pace, sliding from base to tip, alternating between shallow movements; small jabs and punches of his hips.
