He didn’t bother taking my underwear off. Just hooked the soaked lace to the side with his fingers. His belt clinked and his zipper rasped down, followed by the crinkle of a foil wrapper. Then the thick head of his cock nudged against me.
His calloused hand gripped my hip as he started to push in. I held onto the rail tight, the wood biting into my palms.
He felt huge like this, stretching me open slow and deep. My mouth fell open on a silent cry. My eyes slipped shut at the burning, perfect fullness.
“Fuck, Sienna,” he groaned. “So goddamn tight… you’re already fucking drenched for me.”
He stayed buried to the hilt for a second, letting me adjust while my legs trembled. The rough wood dug into my belly, while he radiated warm heat against me. Then he started moving—heavy, rolling thrusts that dragged over every sensitive spot inside me.
I bit down on my forearm to muffle the moans trying to break free. Every thrust shoved me forward against the rail. His hand moved from my hip and covered mine on the wood, fingers lacing through. That small, gentle touch made my heart kick even harder as he drove into me.
I was so wet it was coating my thighs. The sound of his hips slapping against my skin filled the barn, mixed with the faint creak of the old wood.
Brock leaned over me, lips brushing my ear. “That’s it… push that pretty ass back on me.”
The steep angle left me at his mercy. Every thrust jolted through my whole body. A loud moan ripped out of me before I could stop it.
His hand shot up and clamped over my mouth.
“Shh,” he rasped against my ear. “I’ve got you. Take my cock and stay quiet for me. You’re doing so good.”
His lips dragged from my ear down to the curve of my shoulder—hot, open-mouthed, stubble scraping. My spine locked up.
I moaned against his rough palm, the sound smothered. Being pinned like this—bent over, silenced by his hand while he fucked me from behind—made my head spin.
I pushed back against him harder. He kept that deep, grinding rhythm, rubbing against all the right nerves with every stroke. My thighs started to shake.
Then his free hand slid between my legs. His rough fingers found my clit and rubbed in time with his thrusts.
My eyes rolled back. I screamed against his palm, body clenching and pulsing around him in waves.
Brock groaned low against my neck. “That’s it, darlin’. Make all the noise you want, I’ll keep you quiet.”
I clamped down around him, shaking, my mouth open against his palm. He kept moving through my orgasm, steady and deep, dragging it out.
“Fuck, Sienna, you’re squeezing me so tight.”
I was still trembling around him when his pace changed—harder, rougher, almost desperate. I pushed back against him with everything I had. The wooden rail groaned under my grip.
“Shit,” he rasped against my ear, voice strained. “I’m not gonna last. You feel too fuckin’ good.”
His breaths grew ragged. A heavy groan slipped out, and he buried his face in my neck to muffle the sound, hips snapping forward fast and frantic.
I loved it—the way he was fighting so hard to stay quiet and losing. It turned me on even more. I clenched around him onpurpose and pushed back harder, forcing another broken sound from his throat.
“You’re getting loud too, Brock. I love hearing you like this.”
He growled, and his hand tightened on my hip, fingers digging in painfully.
He drove into me one last time and stayed there, buried deep. His whole body went rigid against my back as he came, pulsing hard inside the condom. A shaky, muffled groan tore out of him against my neck.
Even after he finished, his hips jerked a few more times like he couldn’t stop.
We stayed locked together, both of us panting. My legs were trembling so badly I didn’t trust them to hold me.
His heart hammered wildly against my back. He finally let out a long, ragged breath and pressed a messy, open-mouthed kiss to my shoulder.
“Jesus Christ,” he said, voice hoarse.
