His cock springs free, thick and long and throbbing, and I wasn't wrong. He's fucking big. I reach out to stroke it, wrapping one hand around the shaft, but one hand isn't enough. I have to use both, and even then I can barely encompass him.
He groans, low and deep. "Fuck. Your hands feel incredible around my cock."
I look up at him, squeezing gently, watching the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken. Then I let go and lie back on the bed, spreading my legs wide, hands resting beside me.
"I'm ready," I say. "I want to take it all."
He climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between my thighs. One hand braces beside my head while the other wraps around his cock, guiding it to my entrance. I'm so wet that the head slides in easily, and he pauses, his eyes finding mine.
"You okay?" he asks.
"I feel perfect," I breathe. "Keep going."
He presses deeper, inch by inch, and I've never felt this filled before. It's like I can barely move without feeling him everywhere, stretching me, claiming me, taking up every bit of space inside me.
He starts thrusting slowly. One. Two. Three. Four strokes, letting me adjust to his size. Then he starts to quicken his pace. I moan, the sound escaping before I can stop it, and I slap a hand over my mouth.
"Don't," he says, grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand away. "No one will hear you but me. And I fucking love your voice."
I smile, pull his face down to mine, and kiss him while whispering against his mouth, "Fuck me harder."
He growls and then he's pounding into me, his cock buried to the hilt over and over again. The old bed is creaking beneath us, the headboard knocking against the wall with each thrust, but we don't stop. Not even a thunderstorm could stop what's happening right now.
I grip the bed sheets as sweat trickles down my forehead. I'm trying to keep my eyes open, trying to take in every detail, but all I can manage are flashes—
The sweat dripping down his whole body. His eyes wide open, locked on mine. His mouth slightly open, jaw tight. His chest heaving after each powerful thrust.
It's too much and not enough all at once.
But there's no way I'm letting him do all the work. What will he think of me if I just lie here and take it? I tap his shoulder, and he immediately slows down, concern flashing across his face.
"You okay?" he asks, breathing hard.
"I want to ride you," I say.
Chapter 8 - Eli
This is fucking happening.
After six years of isolation, of not even talking to women for more than a few sentences, I'm actually fucking someone. In my bed. And we're both loving it.
I'm giving away a piece of myself that's been buried for so long, locked away where no one could touch it. And she's doing the same. I can feel it in the way she looks at me, in the way she moves, in the way she says my name.
And now she wants to ride me.
Goddamn if I don't want that too.
I pull out slowly, both of us groaning at the loss, and we exchange positions. I lie back on the bed, hands beside me, and watch as she straddles me.
She starts slowly, just rocking back and forth, getting used to the angle. Then she really starts bouncing on my cock, and I have to grab her ass with both hands to help her move. Her moans are like a siren's song, pulling me deeper, making me lose whatever control I have left.
Watching her now feels like a fever dream. Her hair is covering half her face, falling in waves around her shoulders. Her eyes are half-lidded, glazed with pleasure. Her mouth is wide open, soft sounds escaping with every bounce. Sweat is trickling down between her perfect tits.
I'm loving every second of this, but I want her closer. Need her closer.
I place a hand on her back and pull her down to me. She comes willingly, lying on top of me, her breasts pressed against my chest, her face inches from mine.
"I'm about to fuck you like you deserve," I whisper against her ear.
