“Soooo good,” she bit out.
In a flash of action, had her on her back, her legs over his shoulders. He’d moved so fast, her brain hadn’t caught up with the action.
“You’re a magician,” she said.
“Black magic.” He knelt at the side of the bed, pulled her pussy close, tugged off the thong, and devoured her with a ravenous energy that had her writhing on the bed.
His mouth—his talented, talented mouth—had her flying high, the pleasure coming in escalating waves. Every time he licked her pussy, she groaned. He slid fingers inside her, sherose off the bed. When he finger-fucked her, the pleasure overwhelmed her senses.
Desperate to see him, she forced herself onto her elbows so she could watch. His face between her legs, while she draped her thighs over his massive shoulders, sent her flying over the edge. The orgasm shot out of her so hard, her cries of ecstasy a garbled series of utterances. Everything went hazy, the release rocking her so hard, she stopped breathing.
For those blessed seconds, everything in her world was right. There was only good. No bad. No loneliness, no obsession, no violence.
Just right and good and perfect.
Feeling like he’d wrapped her in a warm blanket, she opened her eyes to find herself nestled in his arms in the middle of the bed. The safety she felt had emotion tightening her throat, and she fought against the tears that threatened to burst from her lonely, broken soul.
He kissed her forehead, then her mouth. She rolled onto him, kissed him back, and got lost in everything Tank. As they deepened the kiss, he pushed off the bed, with her still cradled in his arms. Then, he ended their embrace.
“Hold on to me.”
She clung to him while he rifled through his pants, pulled out two condoms.
Seconds later, they were back in bed—he, leaning against the propped pillows, she straddling him, while he covered his shaft with the prophylactic.
“Ride me,” he commanded.
She’d never been bossed around so much in her life. And she loved it. Loved it like her life depended on it. Like this night was life-changing.
Snap out of it.
“Make me,” she said, smirking
“With pleasure,” he replied.
