2. SIN
She was driving me crazy.
Like, officially crazy.
And the weirdest thing of all? I actually liked it.
I liked that she didn’t grab my dick and offer to suck it the second she saw me.
I liked that I hadn’t even managed to sniff at her pussy, never mind see her tits.
And I liked that I never knew what the fuck was going to come out of her mouth.
She was a challenge, and somehow, she’d tapped into my stupid competitive streak.
I’d seen her that night, sitting beside Storm as he got sucked off by one of the club bunnies, looking like a princess among the paupers.
It wasn’t that she’d looked down on us—if she had, that’d have pissed me off, and I wouldn’t be interested in the bitch.
No, she hadn’t been amused or obnoxious. If anything, she’d been watchful. Like she was taking it in. A baby at a circus. All wide-eyed and intrigued.
I hadn’t even known her name. The only thing I knew?
Her license plate number, and I got one of the deputies in the department who was on the payroll to run her plates and get me some information on her.
Of course, I couldn’t be interested in one of the cute girls from the country club who was just rich, could I?
No, she had to be a Farquar, didn’t she? Fuck’s sake.
The prick had pretty much transformed West Orange, making the already upper-class town even more swank with gated communities that offered a thousand luxuries to the ultrarich who were tired of space poor Manhattan.
One thing West Orange had in abundance was space, well, it did until Tiffany’s father had fucked that up and brought a bunch of yuppy yahoos into my backyard.
Still, I wasn’t about to blame that on her.
The fact her daddy was behind the ruination of my town wasn’t a sin that could be laid at her door.
I crossed my feet at the ankle as I stared up at the sky, my hands tucked behind my head, thinking back to the meetings we’d had since that first time.
A drink at the club’s bar, a burger in the diner.
Each time, she’d sit at another table, and I’d have to talk to her like we were fucking strangers.
Then, last night, when I’d finally gotten her to agree to come out here, we’d been at the park.
The fucking park.
Her on a swing like she was a kid, and me feeling like a weirdo being in a goddamn jungle gym when I was over the age of eight.
When a rumble sounded in the distance, I smirked with satisfaction.
She was here.
She drove a Jaguar, and fuck, I could hear the vibrations through the ground as the sportscar roared its way up the slight incline to my driveway.
I was one of the few brothers who had two homes. I lived at the clubhouse for the most part, but when shit got a little crazy there and I didn’t want to be a part of it anymore, I came here.
Sanctuary.
From my past, my present, and my future.
All of which were somehow uncertain.
The past was fixed for most people, but for me, it wasn’t.
Everything could change in a heartbeat, no matter how deeply I set my roots.
Still, those were thoughts for another day. As the wheels soared over the gravel of my driveway, spitting the stones every which way, I didn’t bother looking up.
The door opened. I heard the slight sound of music—Sum 41? Really?—before it shut off, and the door slammed closed.
I knew from the direction of her steps that she wasn’t heading toward the house like most folk would. She was heading toward me. Like she knew I’d be just as difficult as she was.
And that was the truth.
Any other bitch, I’d have been waiting for her on the porch, and soon after, I’d have taken her through to my bedroom.
Because it was Tiffany?
Because she was difficult?
I thought I’d be difficult too and make her hunt me down.
As she moved around the driveway, the sound of gravel crunching petered off, and then her footsteps were silent once she was on the lawn.
“Well, isn’t this romantic?” she mocked as she approached me, and though her cockiness might have grated, I appreciated a woman who knew her worth.
Maybe that was because of my past though.
I didn’t want a virgin, but I liked the chase, and there was precious little of that around here.
What with the clubwhores and the daughters of rich fucks in town who wanted a walk on the wild side, we were surrounded by pussy.
Even the ugly fucks like Jenssen got laid on the regular.
Sons of Anarchymight have given us all a bad rep with business, but where the cunts were concerned?
We were drowning in their cream.
“I aim to please,” I rumbled, letting my eyes drift shut.
I’d had a swift glance at her from the corner of my eye, and my dick was already taking charge of my body.
Fuck, she was hot. That chick from The Matrix hot. All cheekbones and sass-itude.
Her hair was different than the first time I’d seen her two weeks ago. A little shorter, a lot bouncier.
It had bright blue color at the ends now, and it made her eyes pop so they looked almost turquoise instead of blue or green.
She wore a halter top that had her tits spilling out, but then the most conservative shorts—knee-length and tailored—and a pair of ballet flats that shouldn’t have been sexy, but somehow were.
Those tits?
Holy hell.
I wanted to bury my face in them.
Fucking suffocate as those tits sucked the air from my lungs like she sucked the cum from my balls.
Heaven.
When she maneuvered to my side without a word, settling beside me on the plaid blanket I’d set down, her perfume swept over me.
Cool, crisp, and clean.
Like apples in the fall, with just a faint hint of blossom to give it a feminine tang, then a rich warmth that made me think of musk.
She was the most feminine woman I’d ever seen, so confident in herself, in her sensuality, that it made me want her more than any other bitch I’d wanted in a long time.
When she was lying flat beside me, she asked, “This your idea of a date?”
“Not fucking you over the pool table at the clubhouse, am I?”
A snort escaped her. “That’s what you do on a regular date?”
Her lack of pique surprised me.
All bitches were jealous, just look at Giulia.
She’d come into Nyx’s life and was headbutting and nose shattering any clubwhore who dared to get in her way, and only fuck knew what would happen when he eventually claimed her.
Cammie had been wrecked as well, not that she’d had the brains to stay away from a fucker like Nyx.
Just because he was possessive and didn’t share his pussy didn’t mean he was staying with the bitches he claimed for a short while.
Giulia was different though.
I got the vibe that, once he pulled his head out of his ass, he was going to patch her in.
Sweet fuck, that was going to be a blast to watch. Nyx wasn’t the kind of man to be led around by his dick, and Giulia was a stubborn piece of sass that wasn’t about to let him get away with shit.
My lips curved at the thought of the showdowns we had coming our way.
We hadn’t had a real party in too long.
What Tiffany had come to was more of a Friday night thing. No visiting chapters had come to stay, and when that happened, shit turned real, fast.
The second a slut came onto Nyx after he’d made Giulia his, I just knew she was going to break bones, and it’d be better than ringside seats at a championship boxing match.
“Why here?”
I blinked, just remembering she was there. And I didn’t mean that in a bad way. It wasn’t that she was forgettable, it was that she was calming.
She wasn’t an attention seeker.
I liked that.
It actually made me more aware of her, even if I could zone out some. It meant my body knew she wasn’t a danger to me, and in my world? That fucking mattered.
I rubbed my chin. “I live here.”
“You do? I thought you guys lived in the clubhouse.”
“We do, but I have my own space too.”
“Why?”
“Some brothers like the community. Some don’t. I like a bit of both.”
“When do you come here?”
“When the noise gets to be too much for me.”
“It is loud there, isn’t it?”
I only nodded, but that was an understatement. “Most of the time, I can deal with it, but then, some days, I just can’t.”
I wasn’t like Mav, dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt, but somedays, I just needed a fucking break from the noise.
“How come?”
Rolling my head to the side, I graced her with my attention. She surprised me because she wasn’t giving me googly eyes.
Her head was turned to the dying rays of the sun, and she was basking like a house cat in its warmth.
My lips bowed slightly, and I gave her an honest answer, because everything about her?
Demanded it.
She wasn’t like any other bitch I’d come across.
I just fucking knew it.
She wouldn’t take my bullshit. Wouldn’t accept it. Would make me be me.
And maybe I should walk away from that, head in a completely different direction, because being honest wasn’t my forte…
Seeing a chance to deflect, I muttered instead, “You don’t suit your name.”
She snorted at that, unoffended. “You think I don’t know that? Mom had a fetish for dolls. She had this one she called Tiffany, and lucky me, I apparently had her eyes.”
I laughed. “Had? Past tense? I hope Mom’s not as much of a nut job as she sounds.”
A shrug had her wriggling her shoulder. “Depends who you talk to.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, she says she isn’t, but I disagree. We have a room with thousands of dolls in it.”
I mock-shuddered. “Sounds creepy.”
“Doesn’t just sound it. It is creepy. Creepy as fuck.”
My lips twitched again. “You prefer, I dunno, Tiff?”
She rolled her head like I had, turning it so we were looking at one another.
When she stared at me, her blue-green eyes were lazy and relaxed. Just looking at her was like listening to a meditation tape for an hour.
“You can call me Tiff,” she murmured. “Or you can call me by my middle name.”
“Do your friends call you Tiff?” At her slow nod, I inquired, “Okay. I’ll bite. What’s your middle name?”
“Lexie.”
“Lex. I like it.”
“I’m glad you do,” she teased, “but that isn’t what I said.”
“You’re not a Lexie either. You’re a Lex.”
“That’s a boy’s name.”
My gaze drifted down to her tits. “Think I’ll have to settle with Tiff, seeing as you’re no boy, sugar.”
“Figured that out a long time ago.” She reached down and placed her hand on my belly, and heat arced between us like someone had doused us with a flamethrower.
She released a hissed breath, one I’d have matched, but my control was too strong, before I drawled, “You know where this is heading, don’t you?”
“I know. But I want you to know that I’m not like any woman you’ve ever met.”
I was aware of that already. It was why she was at my home.
Why I hadn’t boned her yet, why I had brought her here—where incredibly few women had been before.
She had class.
It exuded from her pores.
And that made me respect her.
It made me want her more.
“That isn’t news to me, Tiffany,” I said, turning my gaze away from hers.
I lay there, in the dying sun, and stared at nothing—a copse of trees with some birds that were making a goddamn racket—while she lay at my side.
It wasn’t how I imagined this date going, but to be fair, dating wasn’t my scene, period.
It hadn’t been since I’d been patched into the Sinners’ MC.
Dating and cuts didn’t go together. And what we’d done this far, I wasn’t sure even constituted as dates.
I mean, a couple who dated shared a table, didn’t they? Did more than yell at each other across a fucking bar?
When she curled onto her side, her legs entangling with mine as she pressed her face to my arm and rested her hand farther down on my stomach? I’d have tossed off any other bitch, told her to get in her fucking car and get the fuck away from me.
But Tiff?
That didn’t happen.
If anything, my initial tension drained away when she hummed, “It’s pretty out here.”
“Thanks.” It was. Not exactly my pride and joy, but I spent a lot to make it look this naturally unnatural.
“You garden?” she teased.
“No,” I said with a snort. “I pay someone to look after the place.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s mine.”
If that sounded possessive, then so be it.
My house and my bike were the two possessions I owned that I gave a fuck about. They were the only items that couldn’t be easily replaced.
“Did you give the landscapers free rein?”
I smiled at the idea of Garry Johnson calling himself a ‘landscaper.’
Garry was salt of the Earth.
His company was called Green-Fingered Garry, for fuck’s sake.
Not that I said any of that, even if it rammed home the difference between her and me in a big way.
“Why?”
“Because I can’t imagine you planting a patch of peonies,” she muttered with a laugh.
“Peonies?”
“Thought as much.” She wafted a hand over in the direction of the house. “Those flowers are called peonies.”
I shrugged, I hadn’t known that. “Thought they were wildflowers.”
She giggled. “Sounds about right. I’m almost relieved. You’re breaking all my glass ceilings here, Sin.
“If I thought you were into flowers too, I’d start wondering what the hell you guys were doing at that clubhouse of yours.”
“Nothing that delicate little ears like yours should be hearing.”
“Not so delicate. You grow up fast in this world.”
“Which world?” I scoffed. “You’re rich, Tiff. Rich as fuck. What do you have to worry about?”
“Staying rich,” she replied dryly. “Not me, per se. But Daddy? He has to worry about that kind of thing. It’s no easy life.”
My brow puckered. “Then don’t spend as much. He wouldn’t have to work as hard?—”
“I actually don’t,” she said flatly. “Mom does though. Every item I’m wearing? She bought. My place? To Dad’s specs.”
“Why?”
“They want me to stay close to home.”
“Why?”
“We’re tight-knit. They hated when I left for college.” She shrugged. “I just wish Dad didn’t have to work so hard.”
“So, you’re not a spoiled rich kid then?” I mocked.
“Well, it depends on your definition of spoiled. I mean, I am, but I don’t even have an Insta account to show off all my shit. That means there are plenty of kids brattier than me.”
I laughed. “No Insta? Shame, I’d probably get a kick out of watching you do duck faces.”
“Why look on IG when you can see them in the flesh?”
She leaned up onto her elbow and pulled a pout, then she smiled at the same time, diminishing the ridiculousness of the exaggerated pose, but it didn’t take away from how fucking kissable her lips were.
How pouty.
Fuck.
She had a mouth made for sucking dick.
I bit the inside of my cheek at the thought, but I couldn’t stop myself from reaching over and tracing that delectable curve with the tip of my finger.
Her lips parted ever so slightly, and when I outlined her Cupid’s bow, she swallowed. It was too dark out to see her eyes, but I could see her movements, could feel them.
She pushed harder against me, pressing closer like she didn’t want any space between us, and I got that.
I did.
I didn’t want space between us either.
“You come here to be fucked?” I rasped.
She tensed, but I didn’t regret asking the question. “Excuse me?”
“Trying to figure out what your purpose is,” I said, and when she made to pull back, I half sat up, grabbed the back of her neck, and forced her to roll on top of me.
The second she lay on me, I loosened my hold some and she instantly stopped struggling, but I stayed in her face.
And she stayed in mine.
“That was a dick move,” she snapped.
But she didn’t roll off me.
“First lesson. I’m a dick.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” she snarled, yet she didn’t back away.
“Second lesson, I’m not one of those pussies you’ve dated before.”
“No, you’re just a dick,” she growled under her breath. “First lesson, I’m not a slut. Second lesson, I won’t let you get away with treating me like shit. Especially when I don’t deserve it.”
“Meaning there are times you will deserve it?”
“I’m no angel.”
“No, you’d be fucking boring if you were.”
“I’m many things, but boring isn’t one of them.”
Slowly, I rolled back down so I was lying on the ground with her blanketing me, and again, she didn’t fucking move.
“Why are you here? You want a hard fuck? Is that it?”
“Didn’t get it, did I?”
“Not yet. The evening’s still young,” I replied with a laugh.
She huffed, but shuffled on my body, pressing her hips into mine before she resettled. I got the feeling she wasn’t trying to turn me on, but get comfortable.
I wasn’t averse to the idea, even if her hip bones dug into me like knives.
I didn’t usually like skinny bitches, but there was something about this little heathen I appreciated.
Like she’d said, she wasn’t boring, and fuck me, I was so fucking tired of boring snatch.
“I’m here because I liked the look of you.”
Her prim tone had me scoffing, “You’re here because you think I’m pretty?”
“Oh, sugar, you know you’re more than pretty,” she purred. “Taming you would be impossible.”
She didn’t say it like that was a bad thing.
“Glad we got that out there,” I said, but I moved my hands to her ass and squeezed her butt cheeks.
She didn’t rear back and slap me, and I liked the fact that I wasn’t sure what she was going to do.
Unpredictable? Yep. She was that in spades.
I rubbed her ass, then murmured, “I don’t date.”
“You’d have fooled me.”
“This isn’t a date. This was me testing the waters.”
“I can see that, even as I can see that you don’t consider our other meetings to be dates.
“Have you tested these waters? What now? You going to haul me into your house and fuck me on the kitchen counter?”
Well, she didn’t sound averse to that idea.
I laughed because she was funny, even if she didn’t really mean to be. “I won’t fuck you.”
“No? Why?”
Was that a pout in her voice?
“Because you want more than a hard fuck. I ain’t the kinda guy you piss around with, Tiff. I think we both know that.
“I’m the kinda guy you country clubbers screw then giggle about once you’re safely back home as you wince every time you cross your legs for the next few days, because you can still feel my dick inside you—but you don’t want that.”
“No,” she whispered, her voice smaller than I’d anticipated. “I don’t.”
“You don’t know what you want, do you, sweetness?” I rasped, liking that. Liking that she wasn’t here to fuck, even if she did want sex.
I didn’t play games. Ever. Even if my brothers thought I did.
“I just know I want you.”
“Whatever I’ll give you?”
“No. Whatever I want to take,” she drawled.
Her fire had me rolling up again, and as I speared my hands through her hair, holding her to me, I brought our mouths together.
Nipping her bottom lip, I muttered, “Don’t think you can play me, Tiff.”
“Same goes.” She nipped me back, giving as good as she got.
In the blink of an eye, I switched positions, rolling us over so she was beneath me.
Her legs parted, her hips rocked up, and all of a sudden, I was resentful of my fucking jeans, because her heat?
Paradise.
Talk about a molten hot pussy.
I rested my arms on either side of her head and leaned over her. Dipping down, I pecked her lips, here and there, nipping and teasing, lashing my tongue along the curve of her Cupid’s bow, tasting her and enjoying her little pants and moans.
When her hands came to my butt, digging into me, I grinned, even as I carried on, tempting us both.
Then her tongue snapped out, catching mine, and I dove right in.
Fuck, kissing was an underrated aspect of sex in my opinion. Most men went straight for the goods.
Me?
I loved kissing.
Tongue fucking.
All of it.
It was hot, but no one let me play. Until her.
She tried to tempt me into taking it deeper, but I remained on track, sliding my tongue against hers, eating her as she began to eat me, starting to understand what I was doing.
When deep grunts escaped me, and her tiny mewls echoed around us, I pulled back, aware that both our mouths would be red in the morning.
She groaned when my weight shifted, my dick pushing into her softness, and I reached for the hem of her halter top.
Dragging it up, I revealed a pair of tits that were porn star worthy. That they were real was even more eye-popping.
That they were covered with a lacy bra thing told me she hadn’t been screwing with me.
In the past, bitches had arrived at the door to my room at the clubhouse wearing coats and nothing else.
Shirt dresses with no panties or bras on.
Sending me the clear message they wanted to be used.
And fuck, if I wasn’t enough of a gentleman to give them what they wanted.
Tiff?
She didn’t know what she wanted.
The only thing she knew was that it involved me.
She wanted me.
And I wanted her.
So I dipped my head and rolled my tongue around her bra-clad nipple, sucking on it through the thin lace.
It wasn’t the most supportive of her tits, and they shifted to the side some, but fuck, they were juicy.
I squished them together, thought about burrowing my dick between them, and almost had my eyes rolling into the back of my head at just the idea.
Nipping the hard peak, I tongued her some more until she was squirming beneath me.
Then I let my mouth drop lower, shuffling back on my knees so I could kiss her belly.
I glided my nose down her center, along her covered cunt, and scented her arousal.
Fuck, she smelled delicious. Like honey and heaven and hell rolled into one juicy morsel.
My mouth watering, I pulled back so I was kneeling between her legs.
“Take off your clothes,” I rasped.
“Take off yours,” she countered, making me grin.
“You want to see the goods first?”
Resenting that the sun had begun to set, casting long shadows over the already shaded part of the yard where we were lying, I wished I could see her face at that, but she just sniffed.
“Can’t see anything in the dark.”
“No, I like it like that.”
I sensed her confusion. “I thought you’d be into visuals.”
“Sometimes I am. Sometimes I’m not. Tonight, I’m not. Strip,” I commanded, giving the order and expecting to be obeyed.
Though she huffed, I heard and felt her move around, but I surprised her by helping her with the task at hand because any distance between us, I soon discovered, was too much.
She shivered at the touch of my fingers swiping over her legs, then groaned when I moved them over her belly and tugged her tits out of the thin cups of her bra.
When I reached the waistband of her shorts, I nipped along the line, then tugged at it with my teeth.
She moaned, then dragged them down herself, and I grinned and began nipping at her panties too, until she released a groan of irritation and did the job for me.
Well, as much as she could, considering I was between her thighs.
Within seconds, fabric whispered against fabric, and when she tossed the bundle at my chest, I grabbed her clothes, sorted between them, and found her panties.
The thong was tiny, and it scented of her even more. I reached down for my fly, pulled out my cock, and wrapped the scrap around it.
Then, I reached for her hand in the gloomy twilight, and dragged it over to my dick.
A sound escaped her, thick and guttural, delicious enough that that simple noise had me twitching.
“Fuck,” she rasped, her hand shaping me as she jacked me off. Her words were just as thick, and I knew she was savoring me.
Knew it, and fucking loved it.
With a gulp, I tipped my head back as she carried on exploring me, and when the heat of her tongue flickered at the tip, I nearly died and went to heaven.
Dragging off my cut, I quickly tore off my shirt, and worked around her hands and mouth to unfasten the button of my jeans.
She helped drag them down to my knees, and when her nails scored down my thighs, rolling around to do the same to the backs, I nearly fucking came.
Her tongue flattened around the tip of my dick, and when she began to hum around the glans, I gripped her hair and tugged her back.
Spit connected us, a thick wave of it, so heavy I felt its weight against my dick, and blindly, I reached down, touching her lip before I swiped my hand through the saliva that bound us.
Collecting it on my fingers before I bowed over her and joined our mouths, I stuck my wet hand between her thighs, coating her in both of us, and I found her clit, rolling it between my fingers, rubbing it hard and fast until she shuddered against me.
The little orgasm had me grinning against her mouth, but it didn’t stop me from fucking her there with my tongue.
She panted against me, melting into my hold, never once struggling against the tight grip I had on her hair.
The more I took, the more she gave, and fuck, it was like poetry.
She didn’t whine or squeal, she accepted what I wanted her to have.
And that fucked with my head.
I speared a finger inside her, testing her readiness. She was tight but molten hot, and ready for me to fuck.
That didn’t mean I was ready though.
I let my finger retreat from her heat, then reached up and thumbed her nipple.
Her tits were heavy, and the weight in my palm made my cock weep.
I held her there, explored her curves, then slowly, I moved her back and released my grip on her hair.
Grabbing her ankles, I levered her legs up high, bringing her knees to her chest. She didn’t stop me. Not once.
When I bowed over her, swiping my tongue along her folds, giving her clit a quick flick, reveling in her taste for just a second, she arched her hips up, wanting more.
Needing me.
I thrust into her and flickered the tensile muscle around, getting more of her addictive flavor in me, then I reared up, dragged her wet panties off me, and settled my cock between her parted pussy lips.
Pressing her ankles higher, so that her thighs stayed between us, I let my weight rest against her.
She was mostly restrained, but her arms instantly came around me, her nails digging into my shoulders before she reached down and around, touching me where she could reach.
“Want you inside me, Sin,” she whimpered, and the words messed me up inside, because damn, there was nowhere else I wanted to be either.
I sawed my hips back and forth, coating my cock in her cunt juices, then when I was slick, I reached between us and slipped the tip inside her.
The heat of her had me freezing. Tiff too.
We both released a breath that was more of a whistle, and when she rasped, “Are you clean? Please tell me you’re clean.” I wasn’t sure whether to be amused or offended.
“Wouldn’t have touched you if I wasn’t,” I whispered, because there was no time for messing around with this shit.
“I’m clean. Haven’t been with anyone in months.” Her hips arched up slightly. “I’ll get the morning after pill tomorrow. Fuck, please, just put it in.”
I groaned under my breath, knowing this was stupid, but somehow needing it all the fucking more because of just how hot she was.
Just how perfect her cunt felt around me.
How many brothers had been trapped this way?
I could ride with her to the pharmacy, make sure she swallowed the fucking pill.
Indecision warred with need, and dumb fuck that I was, I let need win.
When I slid into her?
The first pussy I’d ever slid into without a condom?
It was like a fucking revelation.
Nothing beat going in bareback.
Nothing.
Her cunt was tight, hotter than lava, and sucking me down into the heart of her.
Perfection.
Absolute perfection.
When my entire dick was cosseted in her pussy, I settled my weight on top of her, just savoring the experience.
It was how sex should be.
Real and raw.
Fucking flawless.
But when I didn’t move, that had her fidgeting all the more.
She squirmed beneath me, her nails digging into my back and hips, at my waist. I let her, loving the feel of her writhing around.
Then she moaned, “Fuck, Sin. Please!”
Who was I to argue?
I gave her what she asked for, even if she didn’t know what that was exactly. I did.
She wanted me.
And fuck, I knew I wanted her.
That night at the clubhouse, that party? She’d been the only bitch who’d caught my attention all evening.
Sitting there, prim and prissy, while the debauchery went on around her, touching her but not contaminating her?
I wanted that.
I wanted her.
And because what I wanted, I usually defiled, I did what I normally did.
I took.
I fucked her hard, fast, and wet. I gave her what she asked for and took for myself.
She screamed with every drag of my cock out of her, and as I thrust in to the hilt, I bounced off her.
I fucked her fast, and her cunt clamped down around me, trying to hold me inside, trying to keep me hostage.
I’d never wanted to be captured more than I had at that moment.
I didn’t stop until we both roared our release to the world, and even then, I didn’t stop pumping my hips, needing to feel every twitch of her cunt around me as I drowned in the sheer wonder of fucking without a condom.
When I finally came down, I pulled back, not enough to pull out, but I grabbed her legs and dragged them around my hips.
I settled my weight on her some more, using that to keep my dick inside her as I slumped atop her body.
When her arms came around me again?
I didn’t know what the fuck this was, but I knew I didn’t want to move.
Not ever.
Not even in a million years.