I slip my forefinger between her wet folds and she moans at the pressure on her clit, but she seems determined to continue. “A letter to her lover and she’s talking about…Oh…”
Thyra won’t have reached the last part of the letter yet, which is the section that matters. A critical piece of lustful gossip dropped into a paragraph at the end. Possibly one of the most important pieces of information I can give Thyra.
But the start of the letter is all about sex. All the things the lady wants her lover to do to her when he next visits her.
Thyra’s pupils were already dilated, her desire humming with her every breath, but with another gasp, she asks, “Have you read this?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know what’s writtenhere.” She jabs at apart halfway down the first page.
I give her a lazy smile, my finger gliding across her center, making her rock against my hand.
“I do.” My smile grows as Thyra gazes up at me and I ask her, “Would you like that?”
“Yes.”
Sliding my hand away from her core, I lower my head between her legs and drop my lips to the soft skin of her inner thigh, one side, then the next, kissing and stroking, listening to her sighs, her moans as I work my way up to her knee and then to her calves.
Slowly, I draw her legs straight and bring them both up against my chest, her ankles just past my shoulders. Taking a single step closer, I tighten the press of her straightened legs against my chest, drawing a gasp to her lips.
Her core is completely exposed like this. I could drive myself into her as far as I wanted to. “Remember,” I say, not moving, holding back. “We stop if you want to stop.”
She nods. “I remember.”
With a quick hum, I lock my body’s control and position my tip at her core, easing just far enough inside her to hold myself there and free up my hands. My thumb finds her clit and I stroke until the visible tension in her thigh and stomach muscles eases and the wetness in her core allows me to slide farther inside.
I choose to go only the smallest distance, continuing to stroke her clit until her back arches, her breathing becomes erratic, and she nearlyragesat me.
“Fuck me.Please.”
Her body is ready.
I drive myself into her. A single hard thrust.
She cries out and I take a beat, forcing myself to keep my head. To check her breathing, her heart rate, and her tone to be absolutely sure her sobs are pleasure, not pain.
“Again,” she cries, her hands plastered to the table, her fingers clawing the surface, the flush of desire in her eyes threatening to destroy me.
She’s fucking destroying me.
I thrust again and this time, I don’t slow myself down, driving a hard rhythm timed to her needy cries, pulling a command from her every breath, matching myself to her desire until her back arches, her body tightens, and she screams through her orgasm.
Wave after wave, extending and threatening to tear through the lock I placed on my body.
My jaw clenches and my fists curl around the table’s edge on either side of her hips as I rage at myself to hold back.
Fucking don’t lose it.
Don’t lose control.
Thyra’s eyes fly open, as if she senses how close I am to coming inside her.
She bends her knees in the cramped space between us, yanking them all the way to her chest so her feet can plant against my shoulders.
With a heave, she shoves me away from her, forcing me out of her body. Forcing me back a step.
I’ve barely regained my balance when she collides with me, launching herself up off the table and knocking me to the floor.
