Pleasure so extreme, it’s shocking?
A narcissist’s fantasy.
I’m not a narcissist, but I do know my way around a pussy well enough to—after a few minutes of licking and sucking—anticipate the tension in her thighs releasing. Unsurprised as little squeaks of pleasure escape her mouth.
I wait until she comes before allowing my movements to slow, a sigh rolling across hot, tender flesh.
My turn.
Abandoning her pussy, I slide my tongue up the crease of her ass, pausing on the buttoned hole. It flexes with tension she carries into her lungs with one sharp, defensive inhale. Not a freaky girl.
Unfortunate.
I sit up on my knees and shrug my shorts over my hips before pressing my cock to Luna’s swollen lips.
“You sure about this?” I ask again, though I can’t say why. Some bizarre need for reassurance or … because I’m an asshole. Or both.
“Yes,” she whispers, less enthusiastic than before. But still certain.
Gripping her hips, I ease my needy cock inside of her, closing my eyes at the hug her pussy gives me. Predictably warm. Surprisingly welcoming. I’m not a noisy lover, but as my balls slap wet flesh, I groan.
It’s good.
It’s really fucking good.
“Tell me you want me,” I say, slowly rocking my hips into her.
She hardly hesitates. “I want you.” Her tone is flat, but she doesn’t successfully hide the heat in her voice. She likes this … physically, at least. Soon enough, she’ll love it.
“Like you mean it.” I thrust,hard, for the sake of getting her attention. She clutches to the edge of the bench, shoulder blades jutting as she braces herself—not only for more of my cock but to give me what I really want.
“Iwantyou, Sawyer.”
Another groan, this one from deep in my chest.
Shackles, charades, and bullshit fall to the ground as my body decides the pace, hips bucking while the sound of our bodies colliding fills the room.
Thesplatof wet skin with every thrust.
Chilled air fleeing as heat envelopes my body—andhers, based on the warmth of the skin beneath my grip.
The smell of old dust cloaked by the growing musk of pheromones, sweat, and arousal.
I’m too lost in the moment to start a count, but it’s no more than a few minutes before Luna’s moans start, first low and restrained, her hands clutching for dignity at the end of the bench. Then deeper. Louder. Longer.
She lets go. Pulls her hands beneath her chest, grinds her forehead into the black padding. Muffles a cry as I slice my fingers down her stomach and eagerly rub her clit.
I’m so consumed by every twist and jerk of her body that I hardly notice my lips parting. An open-mouthed fucking neanderthal caught up in an ecstasy frenzy.
Every time Luna moans, my pulse jumps. Every time her hips lift to match my rhythm, my breath wheezes.
I bet she can be fun. Maybe not freaky, butfun.
“You like it, baby?” I ask, and this time, I’m not playing the role of asshole captor. I want her to say it, for me. I want her to mean it.
She doesn’t answer. For some reason, I’m surprised.
I lean low enough to kiss her back while working her clit even faster, fucking her even harder. She moans like a whore, but she still has the nerve to be stubborn.
