He dipped down his head, fanning her ear with his breath. “What am I doing to you?”
“You know…”
He chuckled, the manly, hearty sound reverberating through her. “No, I don’t.”
“The squishy feeling. The hammering in body parts I never even knew had a pulse. The—”
He licked the outer shell of her ear, earning a whimper from her. Another sound she’d never produced—certainly not while semi-naked under a man who could pass for a more buffed version of Idris Elba. Sweet baby Jesus. She melted, wondering if he’d added some drug to the snack he offered, or if this high was just normal. She encircled him with her arms, unsure what to do exactly but eager to grab him. To hold him. To fuck him.
He grazed his teeth on the lobe of her ear, and she squirmed. I have to do something. Clumsily, she slid down her hands until she touched his belt. She felt rather than heard his sigh. Good.
“Touch me, Izzy. Feel how ready my cock is for you.” He nipped her ear, sending another powerful shot of arousal through her.
She unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and, in a bold move, glided her hand into his pants and underwear. He helped her, arching his body so she could pull down his pants and boxer briefs, enough for her to touch him.
Fascinated, she caressed the long, large dick. Damn. How could this massive thing fit into her pussy? She clasped it, reveling in the smooth warm skin. For a second, she felt his veins pulsing, loving that she was the one doing it to him.
“God yes,” she whispered, then began a motion stroking up and down his length. She didn’t have to worry about birth control, because she’d been on the pill as per House of Alexa rules. “Are you safe?” she asked, to make sure. Hanging to that last thread of rationality before it slipped away.
“Yes. I’m clean, Izzy.” He bit the tip of her ear in response. A maddening amount of blood rushed away from her brain, oxygen briefly deserting her. She mellowed, clasping him tighter, showing him just how much she wanted him.
He clenched her wrist, disengaging her hand from his cock.
“Did I do something wrong? I thought you wanted—”
He raised his head, desire glinting in his eyes. “I’m not coming in your hand, sweetheart.”
He covered her mouth with his, and she tasted her own tangy essence still on his lips. He coaxed her to open wider, and she happily obliged. She wrapped her legs around him, and he lowered his hand to her pussy, cupping it, playing with her folds. She touched his hair, enjoying the thick texture, bringing him closer, angling his head to deepen the kiss.
He nipped her lower lip, teasing her. She slipped her hands into his shirt, scratching his shoulder blades. When he wrenched his mouth from hers, they both panted, breathless. He rubbed the tip of his cock into her entrance, and she moaned.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Izzy?”
“Yes.” She lifted her ass off the blanket, desperate to increase the friction. “Yes,” she hissed.
He kissed her nose. “It will hurt for a moment, then I’ll make it better for you.”
Izzy nodded. Somehow, she trusted him—not beyond sexually, of course, but she knew deep inside he wouldn’t hurt her physically. He began inching inside her, until he found the breach. She inhaled, mentally bracing herself for the pain. She captured his lips with hers, indulging in a passionate, scorching hot kiss. He explored her mouth relentlessly, encouraging her to stroke his tongue with hers, and to match his urgency.
He moved forward, thrusting more and more of him into her until a bit of pain pinched her. Her breath caught in her throat, but he didn’t stop the kiss. With one hand, he touched the back of her neck, caressing with nice strokes. Little thrills of ache mixed with excitement, and soon she couldn’t tell one apart from the other.
She loosened her limbs, the discomfort easing as fire brew within her.
He broke the kiss. “How are you doing, gorgeous?”
“I’m good.”
He grabbed her left leg and lifted it to the side, and his cock slipped in deeper. “You’re so tight and wet. Fuck. This pussy is mine.”
Mine. The word echoed in her ears, rich and seductive like the notes from a Stradivarius. He flicked her clit, and she quickly burned in his hand. God. She scratched him harder, but if it hurt, he didn’t complain.
He rammed into her faster, establishing a maddening rhythm—he’d retreat from her midway, then return with a slam all the way to the hilt. She moaned, her sounds getting lost in the forest.
“Move with me, Izzy.”
She undulated her hips, trying to find the right angle, and he gripped her leg, enhancing the crazy good sensation of intimacy. Encouraged, she wrapped her arms around his head, thrusting her hips toward him, each time coaxing his cock deeper and deeper.
He increased the tempo of his thrusts, in tandem with the torturous flicks on her clit, aching for release. “Fucking you feels so good.”
