Page 53 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

Leonid lets out a deep groan, and then pulls out. Hot spurts hit my tongue, my lips, my chin. I swallow greedily, milking every drop, some spilling past my lips anyway.

He’s breathing hard above me, chest heaving, eyes wild. I collapse forward onto my forearms, trembling, wrecked, still pulsing with aftershocks.

He drops to his knees in front of me, gently stroking my cheek. “Fuck,” he breathes, voice raw. His eyes move to the pussy plug that’s still vibrating on the floor. “That was incredible.”

“Amazing,” I manage, voice raw.

Leonid gets on his feet and raises me off the floor, his hands firm under my thighs, my legs still trembling from the orgasm that just ripped through me. He looks down at the mess we’ve made, my thighs slick, his cock glistening, and his voice comes out rough, reverent.

“You’re my beautiful mess, solnyshko.”

He carries me the few steps to the wide leather chair beside the glass wall and sets me down, on my back.

“Grab your legs. Pull them back beside your ears,” he orders,

I obey, scooting back, lying down so my head rests against the padded backrest, then hooking my hands behind my knees and pulling my legs up and wide. The position exposes everything, my dripping pussy, the plug still buzzing in my ass, my breasts heaving with every ragged breath. I’m folded open for him, completely at his mercy. I guess those yoga classes are finally paying off.

He steps between my thighs, eyes blazing. Then he slams into me in one brutal thrust.

I cry out, and my hands slip from my knees. My legs start to fall.

His palm cracks across my left breast, stinging. “Hold your fucking legs up.”

I gasp, the pain blooming into heat, and grab my knees again, pulling them back tight. I’ve never seen him like this, feral, unrestrained, eyes black with hunger. And God help me, I love it.

The butt plug vibrates relentlessly inside me, every thrust pushing it deeper, rubbing against that sensitive spot until I’m whimpering, shaking, right on the edge again.

“Don’t come,” he growls, hips snapping forward. “Not until I say.”

“Please—” My voice cracks. “Leonid, please I need—”

“No.” He fucks me harder, deeper, the chair creaking under us. “You come when I tell you.”

I’m begging now, panting, incoherent, tears pricking my eyes from the overwhelming pressure. “Please… I can’t… I need—”

“Look at me.”

I force my eyes open. He’s staring down at me like I’m his entire world and his worst addiction all at once.

“How badly do you want to come?”

“So badly. Please…” I can’t even recognize my own voice. What’s happening to me?

“Come,” he commands.

I shatter.

The orgasm hits like a freight train, white-hot, blinding. I gush around him, hot fluid soaking us both, my whole body jerking in violent spasms. I scream his name, vision blurring, legs shaking so hard I almost lose my grip.

He doesn’t stop.

He pulls out, flips me onto my knees on the settee so I’m facing the glass wall. My palms slap against the cool surface. My breasts press flat to the glass. The orgy sprawls below us, bodies writhing, mouths open, hands everywhere, and now I have a front-row view as Leonid drives back into me from behind.

He fucks me like he’s trying to imprint himself inside me, hard, fast. One hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back so I’m arched, watching the scene below while he pounds into me.

The plug buzzes. His cock hits every perfect spot. The sight of strangers fucking below us, raw, shameless, tips me over again.

I come a third time, screaming, sobbing his name, body convulsing, walls milking him so hard he curses in Russian. His rhythm stutters, hips slamming deep one last time, and he comes with a guttural groan, filling me, grinding against me like he wants to crawl inside my skin.