His cock springs free.
It is massive, heavy, and rigid, the head slick with a drop of clear precum. Dark veins map the shaft. He kicks his pants aside, standing naked in the freezing air, seemingly immune to the temperature. The only thing he feels is the hunger radiating between us.
He drops down over me. His muscular body covers mine like a weighted blanket, instantly shielding me from the storm. The rough hair on his chest scratches deliciously against my sensitive, swollen breasts. His hips settle directly between my spread thighs.
He grabs his cock and drags the slick, blunt head right across my clit.
I gasp, my hips bucking up to seek the friction.
Santi's mouth sets tight. The muscles in his neck strain. He looks down into my eyes, ensuring he has my absolute, undivided attention. The silver-streaked hair falls across his forehead. He is no longer the calculated, detached passenger I loaded onto my helicopter. He is alive, and I am the spark that woke him up.
"Take it," he commands harshly.
I meet his eyes.
"You chose this," he states. "You chose me. There is no going back now, Reese. You are mine."
"I know," I whisper fiercely.
Santi grips my hips with both hands. He aligns his cock with my dripping opening. With one long, deep, agonizingly slow thrust, he pushes inside of me.
The stretch is immense. He is so thick. My inner walls grip the heavy circumference of his cock, helpless to stop the invasion. The wetness from my recent climax acts as slick lubrication, but he is so massive I still feel every millimeter of his intrusion.
He pushes deeper. My muscles stretch to their limit. He groans, a harsh, guttural sound of pure agony and pleasure, as he buries himself directly to the hilt.
"Fuck," he hisses, his forehead dropping to rest against mine. "You are so tight. So perfectly wet."
He is seated inside me. I am filled. The size of him presses against places I never knew existed. The fullness is overwhelming, eradicating my independence. I am anchored to the ground by his weight and his cock.
Santi stays still for a long moment, simply letting us adjust to the monumental stretch. The wind howls outside the bark walls,rattling the shelter, but inside this tiny space, there is only the harsh sound of our rapid breathing and the smell of sex, sweat, and gunmetal.
Then, he pulls back. The head of his cock drags along my sensitive inner walls. He snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt again with a loud, wet smack of flesh against flesh.
My mouth falls open on a silent scream.
Santi sets the pace. He is relentless. A machine of rhythm and power. He thrusts into me with deep, punishing strokes, his hips snapping forward with devastating force. Each thrust drives him incredibly deep, his pubic bone grinding against my swollen clit.
The friction is agonizingly good. My hands fly to his shoulders, my nails digging into the skin over his chest tattoos. I hold on for dear life.
"Santi," I moan, my voice cracking.
"Say it again," he grunts, pulling out before plunging back in.
"Santi!"
"Mine," he rasps against my skin, his teeth nipping at the side of my neck. He sucks a bruise onto my collarbone, marking me.
He reaches down between our bodies. His fingers find my clit, already hypersensitive from his mouth. He presses down and rubs violently in time with his deep thrusts.
The sensory overload is absolute. The thick, stretching fullness of his cock sliding in and out of my pussy. The direct friction on my clit. The blistering heat of his body shielding me from the freezing wilderness.
I shatter.
My orgasm rips through me with terrifying violence. I scream, my back arching off the ground. My inner walls clamp down ruthlessly around his shaft, milking him with brutal, pulsing spasms.
Santi loses his legendary restraint. His jaw locks. The muscles in his arms bunch and cord as he braces his weight. He delivers three rapid, impossibly deep thrusts, driving himself so far inside me I feel it in my throat.
With a low, shattered groan, he climaxes.
