Orla #3
“You looked at me like that all night, Tyler. You told me all those things,” I panted, my hands moving to his collar, tugging hard. “You knew exactly what you were doing to me.”
Before he could even attempt an answer, I yanked. Buttons skittered across the hardwood like dice hitting a table.
His eyes flared, the gold in them turning to molten amber as he looked down at his ruined shirt. “Jesus Christ. You tryna kill me?”
“No,” I whispered, dragging my hands up his chest. “But I want you to ruin me.”
He grabbed me by the thighs and hoisted me up like I weighed nothing, his strength effortless as he walked us backward until my back hit the nearest wall with a heavy thud.
Our mouths collided again in a mess of teeth and desperation, my tongue tangling with his as I ground my hips against him, the friction of his trousers against my soaked underwear making my vision blur.
He pulled back just long enough to let out a curse. “Fuck. We’re not gonna make it to the bedroom, baby.”
“Good,” I panted, my breath shaking as I fumbled blindly for the leather of his belt. “I want you right here.”
I slid down his body, my knees hitting the tiled floor.
I freed him from his jeans, grasping his irresistibly smooth dick in one hand before tugging gently.
I couldn’t even begin to describe how much the solidness of him turned me on.
Then I took him into my mouth without warning, my tongue running along his silky skin, aching for the moment I could get it between my thighs.
Above me, his head hit the wall with a heavy thud.
His fingers tangled in my hair, not to pull me away, but to hold himself steady as the last of his control finally snapped.
“Fuck, Orla. Shit, you’re so fucking good at that…” His voice cracked, the sound alone making the heat pool low and sharp in my stomach.
I hollowed my cheeks, tasting him, feeling him throb against my tongue. Every whimper from his chest made me wetter.
I pulled back slowly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as my eyes met his. “Don’t bother with a condom tonight,” I murmured. “I get birth control shots.”
The sound that tore out of him wasn’t human.
He yanked me back up, dragged my dress over my head in one swift but impressive move, and dropped himself onto the sofa pulling me between his muscular thighs. His jeans were open, his cock thick and waiting, his chest rising hard and fast.
“Come ride me,” he rasped. “Let me see how greedy your pussy gets for it.”
I shoved my underwear down, climbed into his lap, watching exactly where he guided me onto his length slowly and took him deeper and deeper, until both of us shattered on a moan.
“Holy fuck…” I gasped.
His hands clamped onto my hips, fingers digging like he needed proof I was real.
“There it is,” he groaned, voice breaking against my throat. “Look at you. Taking all of me. You fucking love riding me, don’t you?”
I nodded, breath hitching, already coming apart on him. The sensation of his bare cock against my inner walls was heavenly.
“That’s it. Fuck yourself on my cock, Orla.” His voice dropped, wicked and reverent all at once. “I want you remembering this every time you sit down tomorrow. Want your thighs shaking when you walk down the damn hallway.”
“Tyler…fuck…”
“That’s it,” he said, kissing up my neck, teeth grazing my skin. “That’s what you’ve wanted all night.”
“Fuck…that’s it…Tyler, I’m…” I couldn’t help it.
“Yeah you are. Come for me, O. Be a good girl and make a mess all over my cock.”
There was no holding back now. I was coming hard, loud, shaking, completely undone. I could feel my wetness sliding down his length. But he didn’t stop.
He kissed me through it, filth still pouring from his mouth in a voice so reverent it made my head spin.
I was moving on instinct now, wild, desperate, his cock hitting deep and perfect with every grind of my hips. His grip turned bruising, eyes locked on mine like he was memorising every second.
“God, Orla,” he groaned. “You’re gonna fucking end me.”
“I want to—” I was breathless and burning for him. “I want you to come. Come inside me.”
“Fuck,” he grunted, every muscle in his body tensing. “Don’t say that unless you fucking mean it.”
“I mean it,” I whispered. “I want to feel you lose it.”
That was all the permission he needed.
With a strangled groan, his hands dug into me, hips thrusting up once, twice, and then he was coming, thick, hot and deep, head dropping back against the couch as he growled my name.
I stay seated on him, his size and his release filling me completely, both of us gasping for breath.
My chest heaved, breasts flushed and rising with each panting breath right in front of his face.
He looked completely obliterated and utterly devastated in the best possible way.
I stayed straddling him, his cock still twitching inside me, and met his eyes.
“Fuck, Tyler.”
His hands ran up my thighs like he still didn’t believe how good this felt.
“I know, baby.” He breathed out, forehead falling to my chest. “I know.”