Little dots dimmed her vision, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming. “Nassor…” she choked out. “God, this is so good.”
“It’s about to get better, sweetheart.”
He began thrusting his fingers in and out of her pussy, each time deeper, with less finesse. He devoured her ass, burying his head between her cheeks, and slipping his tongue inside her hole. At first, she didn’t know what make of it, but then she relaxed her shoulders, welcoming the shivers rolling down her spine. When he added one finger into her back entrance, her first instinct was to clench her legs and push him out, but he didn’t retreat. But soon, he withdrew his finger and slammed it inside again, sending dozens of tingles up her body.
Maybe it was the friction. Maybe she needed to be fucked in any way. Soon, pleasure began to burn in the pit of her stomach, and he continued to tease her, increasing the intensity of his plunges into her cunt, all the way to the hilt, and simultaneously finger fucking her ass. Moans escaped from her lips and shifted into raw, pained, sexy sounds slicing the air.
An orgasm thundered through her, sizzling her insides, and she quivered, her throat sore from her moans. Sweat covered her face, and it took her several seconds to come back to reality and glance around the room, still panting from the post-sex daze.
“Turn around,” he said, his voice thick with desire.
She flushed. “I don’t think I can move.”
“Yes, you can.”
He turned her around, shifting her to a sitting position. Her blood rushed as she moved, the intensity from what he’d just done still tingling through her.
Primal desire gleamed in his eyes, and she caught her breath in her throat. He joined her on the bed, sitting, then placed her on top of him, legs crossed around his waist. Even in this position, he was still taller than her, and she had to slightly look up at him.
He put the tip of his cock at the entrance of her cunt. “Look at us,” he demanded, and she glanced down. Seeing him tease her folds, rubbing his thick head against her wet heat instantly aroused her again. “I love fucking you, Izzy.”
He groaned and pulled her to him in an airtight hug. An invisible blanket of warmth and intimacy surrounded them, as if they’d done this thousands of times before. Lust reignited with a vengeance, and she rode him, welcoming his thrusts. He placed his hand on her back, bringing her closer, and she clenched her legs tighter around him. Encircling his head with her hands, she used their molding to each other to learn more about her own pleasure.
She clenched her inner walls, clinging to every inch of him, and in response, the veins around his cock vibrated against her flesh. She could feel the rush of blood pounding through them. God, yes.
She swayed her hips, learning how a small change in angle led to a deeper penetration. Curious, she moved faster, then slowed down, each time studying his face. His features hardened a bit, like he was doing his best to control his own release. “Move with me,” she said. He’d given her the chance to control every aspect of this bit, but somehow, she needed him.
He held her waist and plunged into her with quick, hard thrusts. With her heart pounding in her ears, she matched his pace, and together they continued the erotic dance, the bed creaking under them.
He lowered his hand and flicked her clit, renewing the sizzling reaction, and it didn’t take much for her to let go and explode again. This time, pleasure rocketed through her fast, short-circuiting her insides and making her tremble.
Growling, he retreated his cock and drove inside her one more time—filling her up with his cum. She rested her head on his shoulder, the plastering to his body making her feel the frenetic drum of his heartbeat against hers.
“Is it always like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re lost and found at the same time.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I wouldn’t know. That’s the first time I felt like that too.”
Chapter Nine
One week later…
“Your Majesty,” the head of security said, after Guban closed the door behind him.
Nassor stood, gesturing for John Williams to sit across his desk. The man was a British national who’d worked for his uncle for two decades, and one of the few advisers Nassor had chosen to keep as his own.
He’d let many of them go, including Rasheed, and had begun the process of interviewing and hiring. His approval ratings had increased, which showed the people wanted change. “Thank you for getting back to me.”
A week prior, he’d asked John to look into the man who could have persuaded Mary Roberts to visit Gwokon.
“Thank you for trusting me, sir.” John sat in front of him, holding a manila folder. “Don’t worry, I did as you asked—searched everything myself and didn’t involve anyone in this assignment.”
“Excellent. Any news?”
“Yes. Obasi Akenzua is fifty-seven years old, a Sunday churchgoer known for his discreet yet charming personality. He was married for twenty years, and has one child in college. He got divorced last year, and soon afterward he joined an online dating site.”
