“You know what to do,” he says, reaching into his wallet for a condom before shoving his pants all the way down.
I don’t have to ask what he means. And I’m too far gone to even consider denying him.
“Please,” I beg. “I—I need your cock. I need you to fuck me the way you did before. I want to feel you. Please, Reed. Please.”
“Fuuuck.”
The word tears out of him on a ragged groan, as if hearing me beg is almost better than the sex itself. His nostrils flare with heavy breaths as he frees his cock, which already has beads of precum gathered at the tip. He tears the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolls the condom on, then steps up behind me.
He grips my hip with one hand, and the other slides into my hair, gathering it loosely, just enough that I can feel his fingersthere. When the head of his thick cock nudges at my slick, swollen entrance, I have to work hard not to hold my breath. He pushes into me slowly, working his way in with several thrusts, and we both groan every time his hips press forward.
He’s bigger than I remembered—and I have a veryvividmemory of the first night he fucked me.
“Goddamn,” he mutters, his grip on my hair tightening until a light stinging sensation spreads across my scalp. “You might actually be the death of me, Liv. But what a fucking way to go.”
He thrusts one more time, burying himself to the hilt, then stays there for a second. His breathing is harsh and uneven, and I can feel him fighting for control.
He doesn’t win.
Letting out a string of muttered curses, he starts to move—and it’s clear he remembers just how I liked it last time, because he doesn’t go easy on me. His hips piston as he thrusts hard and deep, his hand wrapped tight around my hair and his grip on my hip almost bruising.
With me on my knees on the couch and him standing behind me, the angle makes his cock hit places inside me that have my body lighting up. The friction of it alone won’t be enough to make me come, but it still feels overwhelming and incredible, and within a minute I’m chasing it, pushing back against his cock, lost in the rhythm and the filthy sounds of him fucking me.
“Touch yourself,” he pants. “I’m not gonna last, and I want to feel you come on my cock before I lose it.”
There’s something desperate in his voice that just about ruins me. The composed, in-control version of Reed from earlier at the photo shoot is completely gone, and the man who’s taken his place is hungry and almost cavemanlike.
I slide a hand down between my legs and find my clit, and the second I start working it, I can feel the next orgasm building already.
“That’s it, baby.” Reed’s hand cracks across my ass twice in quick succession, sending a bolt of sensation shooting through me as heat blooms low in my belly. “Come on. Come for me. Please.”
My fingers are a blur on my clit, working it in the way that always gets me off. He spanks me once more, and that’s all it takes to unleash my climax as I cry out nakedly. He loses it almost the exact same moment that moment I do, pounding into me a few more times before going still, a hoarse groan pouring out of him as his hips grind against my ass.
He collapses forward over my back, cock throbbing over and over inside me as his mouth finds the back of my neck. He bites down lightly—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make my nerve endings light up.
“Fuck,” he says, breathing hard. “I needed that. You have no idea how badly.”
“I needed it too. I’ve been going crazy.”
He licks at the spot he just bit. “Not as crazy as I have.”
I let out a laugh, my arms shaking. “Want to bet?”
He chuckles low against my skin. It takes another couple moments for us to recover, and then he pulls out slowly, gets rid of the condom, and helps me down off my knees. My legs feel like noodles after the orgasms and the effort of staying upright while he fucked me, and I’m not entirely sure I can stand up.
Thankfully, Reed doesn’t seem to expect me to. He lifts me into his arms again, scooping me up with his arms under my shoulders and knees, and starts carrying me down the hall.
I rest my head against his shoulder, letting my muscles go lax.
“You drove me out of my mind with that vibrator, you know,” he murmurs as he walks. “Every morning, I’d be in my bedroom listening to you in the next room, going slowly insane.”
Heat floods my face. “You could hear me?”
“Every time.”
I bite my lip, my stomach flipping over. “I didn’t realize I was being that loud.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “You weren’t. That’s what was killing me. The little soft sounds you were trying to hold back. I’d lie in my bed picturing what your face must look like, what you were doing with it, whether you were thinking about me.” He hesitates, then looks down at me and adds, “I’d get myself off to the sound of you, but it was never enough.”
