Chapter 52
Cal
And lick it up she does.
She sinks gracefully to her knees, and bends her silky head to my thigh, and runs her little pink tongue over the wet patch she’s made on my jeans. It’s a fool’s errand, because the thick denim has already absorbed most of her arousal, but no matter.
My poor cock stiffens impossibly at the scene. After her little leg-humping show I can think of only one thing: being balls-deep inside her.
‘Very good,’ I croon, combing my fingers through her dark hair and pushing it over her face. ‘You are so fucking beautiful.’
She looks up at me, tongue out, black eyes gleaming, and I experience a jolt of desire and affection and pride and rightness so strong it has me reeling.
‘Turn around and crawl away from me, baby,’ I tell her, my voice hoarse with need. I drag my thumb down her temple. ‘I want to torture myself with the view before I get stuck in.’
Her face, which tightened into a pissed-off grimace at the word crawl, softens. ‘Be my guest,’ she retorts, and she turns and drops to her hands and knees.
And she crawls. She fucking crawls, just like I asked, her naked body moving sensuously across my wooden floor, her arse cheeks swaying and her beautiful pink pussy on show for me.
I stand, dick still at full mast, and take a step to the side to enjoy the glorious sight of her tits hanging full and heavy beneath her.
It takes me three strides to catch up with her, then I’m dropping to my knees behind her and fishing in my back pocket for one of the condoms I stashed in there earlier.
I kick her legs out so I can come in close, and then I’m sheathing myself with rushed, jerky movements, and gripping her hips so tightly I’ll probably mark her, and gritting out a garbled fuck, need to be inside you and I’m going in, baby.
I thrust into her in a single desperate drive, like my cock is in full control and the rest of me is just along for the ride, and dear Lord of all that is holy, the fit is so snug and warm that my entire body sings with relief.
She tenses against me, and I realise belatedly she might be a bit chafed down there after her little stunt.
If I have to spend the rest of the night tenderly rubbing aloe vera into her sore cunt, I’ll do so happily.
‘You okay?’ I manage.
‘Yeah.’ She goes to roll her hips experimentally, and I loosen my grip.
‘You sure?’
‘Uh-huh. Come on and fuck me like you mean it, Cal.’
I bark out a surprised laugh. This baby girl is playing with fucking fire. I bend over her and grab a decent handful of her hair. It’s not long enough for me to wrap around my fist, but it’s long enough to grip.
‘You have no fucking idea who you’re messing with,’ I hiss in her ear, and she gives a little shimmy.
‘So show me. Fuck me like you’re wearing your mask. I need you to take me to that place again.’
It’s music to my ears. ‘Seriously, baby?’ I ask, my bottom lip brushing the velvet of her ear lobe.
‘Yes. I need it already.’
There’s no mask tonight. No sex club. No chains. Just me and her on my kitchen floor. And I will not fucking let her down.
‘Fine.’
I rear back up.
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
Then I’m slapping her arse hard and slamming into her, rough as I can, harnessing all my desperation into a single drive, her cry of surprise only spurring me on. Even through the latex she’s heaven. It’s heaven, this sensation of being embedded deep inside her beautiful body.
The arch of her back as I grip her hair, the faint illumination of her jawline under the pendant lights…
She’s a masterpiece of flesh and blood. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s this priceless, mesmerising work of art and I’m the bull in the fucking china shop, the ex-rugby-playing punk she’s, for some unfathomable reason, permitting to smash her to smithereens.
That strikes me as the most wonderful dynamic I can fathom, and it fills me with awe as much as it turns me the fuck on.
She can take it.
She’s told me to fuck her like I mean it.
She needs this.
This release that her ex couldn’t provide.
That only I can give her.
I release her hair and drag my palm over the bumps of her spine before gripping her firmly by the hips and really letting her have it.
I’m closer than I’d like to be to shooting my load, but I can’t stop now.
This animalistic need to bury myself as deep inside Aida as I can, to catapult her into a different stratosphere, has me in its grip.
And when the timbre of her moans changes into something deeper, more guttural, I know she’s right there with me.
‘Oh God.’ She sucks in a breath through her teeth like she’s trying to hold herself the fuck together.
‘I know, baby. I know,’ I manage. ‘You feel so fucking good. You’re so good at taking every inch of me.’
I may not be role-playing a masked thug tonight. We’re here in my home, and it’s just me and her, and if I want to call her my baby I damn well will, but that doesn’t mean I’m not giving it to her.
It doesn’t mean I’ve remotely forgotten she needs a raw, dirty fucking where her knees will scuff, and her cunt will chafe, and her soul will reach places she didn’t know it could, and I’ll brand her as mine, inside and out.
‘Come on,’ I urge, all fast, shallow breaths and fevered thrusts and jerky movements. ‘Show me. Show me how much you love taking my cock.’
‘Fuck,’ she lets out on a pant. Reducing this impossibly elegant, erudite angel to single-syllable expletives feels like the best form of gratification, and I grin to myself through my haze of sweat and need and tensed muscles as I bring our orgasms home.
She comes suddenly, violently, like her climax has blindsided her, her cries those of a woman who’s holding nothing back.
They echo around the vast space as the perfect contractions of her internal muscles obliterate the last of my thinly-held self control, and I shatter around her, pouring jet after jet of my cum into the condom as I hold onto her like she’s my port in a storm.
My orgasm is a wild thing, totally fucking unhinged, rendering me blind and dumb, wringing me out until I’m an empty, well-used shell of a man capable only of collapsing over Aida and using my lips to worship the lines of her shoulder blades.
Just as it should be.