Page 25 of Canvas’ Muse

"Fuck me," I demand, my voice raw. "If you really want to see how much I'm enjoying this, get inside me and fuck me."

Davis's eyes go impossibly darker. "Yes ma'am."

He straightens up, using his good hand to undo his jeans. The button. The zipper. Then he's shoving them down his hips along with his boxer briefs, and—

Holy shit.

His cock springs free, thick and hard and already leaking at the tip. He's big, bigger than I expected, and for a second, I wonder if I can take all of him. But then I remember how wet I am, how ready, and I know it'll be perfect.

His hand is wrapped around his cock now, stroking slowly. "But Eden, are you sure—"

"I'm sure." I spread my legs wider, showing him exactly how ready I am. "I need you inside me. Now."

He doesn't need more encouragement than that. Davis positions himself between my thighs, the head of his cock sliding through my wetness. He's teasing, rubbing against my clit, coating himself in my arousal, and it's torture. Beautiful, perfect torture.

"Davis, please—"

He pushes inside.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," Davis breathes, his good hand gripping my hip. "So tight. So wet."

"Move." I wrap my legs around his waist. "Please move."

He does. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, and the angle is perfect. His injured shoulder doesn't seem to slow him down at all. He's braced on his good arm, using his whole body to fuck me, and it's incredible.

"Yes—fuck—just like that—" I'm babbling, words spilling out without thought. "Don't stop, don't stop—"

"Not stopping." His voice is strained, rough. "Could do this forever. Could fuck you forever."

The bed is creaking beneath us, the headboard hitting the wall with each thrust. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remember we're in a clubhouse full of bikers who can probably hear everything. I don't care. Let them hear. Let them know Davis is fucking me like his life depends on it.

He keeps thrusting, faster and harder, and I love every single second of it. Sweat drips from his hair, landing on my belly, my breasts. We're both giving everything we have, bodies slick and perfect together.

"Davis—" His name tears from my throat. "More… I need more—"

"I'll give you everything." His voice is wrecked, raw. "Everything you need."

And he does. He angles his hips differently, hitting deeper, harder, and I'm screaming now. Actually screaming, not caring who hears, not caring about anything except the way he's filling me, fucking me, making me feel things I've never felt before.

His rhythm falters for just a moment, and then he's slowing down, pulling out of me completely. I whimper at the loss, my pussy clenching around nothing.

"Get on all fours," he orders, his voice thick with lust. "I want to see your pretty ass."

Pretty. He called my ass pretty. Not fat, though it is, gloriously so. Not big, not thick, not any of the words people use when they're trying to be polite about something they actually think is too much. Pretty. Like he genuinely loves what he sees.

I flip over, getting on my hands and knees, head down as far as I can manage, ass up in the air. I'm completely exposed like this, vulnerable, and I fucking love it.

Davis's hands are on me immediately, gripping my ass, kneading the flesh. Then his mouth… He's kissing around my ass, over the curves, his teeth grazing skin.

"I fucking love your ass," he says against my skin, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "So goddamn perfect."

Then he's sliding back inside me from behind, and the angle is even better. Deeper. Fuller. I can feel every inch of him, the way my body stretches to accommodate his size, the way my ass jiggles with each thrust.

"Fuck yes!" I'm pushing back against him, meeting his movements, and his good hand comes down on my ass in a sharp slap.

The sound echoes through the room, followed immediately by the sting of pleasure-pain that makes me moan. He does it again, harder this time, and I feel my ass ripple like waves with the impact.

"You like that?" Davis asks, his voice rough.