Rachel
HE HOLDS ME AS MY BODY recovers from the intense orgasm he’s just given me.
It’s just the bare minimum, yet it’s more than what my ex ever did for me.
He would finish first, and fast, leaving me unsatisfied.
This man is barely taking any pleasure of his own.
He puts me first, and that makes him even hotter in my eyes than he already is.
As if he needs more points. He is already covered in tattoos with a body made by god.
And as if that’s not enough, he is funny, confident, and likes to give more than take.
Wake me up now because I am sure I am dreaming.
Or better yet, because if this is a dream, I never want to wake up.
I would much prefer staying asleep forever if it meant spending it in his arms.
His hand moves over my body, stroking my skin with his fingers in slow movements that raise goosebumps.
He is gentle one moment, rough the next, and I am here waiting, begging for his next move.
I am falling in love. I am getting addicted.
This man is a fucking drug, designed to keep me hooked.
And I fell for the damn trap like a bee to honey.
“Are you ready to continue?” he asks, not that he has to. I am. I will always be ready for him. I just know it.
“Yes,” I say with hesitation. Not because I don’t want to continue. I do. But I am not sure if that’s what he wants to hear. Is he asking because he wants to play again? Or is he just testing me?
He lifts my body just enough to allow him to move from his seat next to me, and as I am about to complain about his absence, he just leans over me on the couch.
I fully turn onto my back, allowing myself a direct view of him towering over me.
He is so damn beautiful. The ink on his body, the muscles that are highlighted by the beautiful designs.
He is not overly muscular, but he has a nice body.
And those piercing blue eyes that make you lose yourself inside them.
They look into mine, and my heart loses a beat.
It loses another the moment his lips part and his voice fills the space.
“You are a beauty, my little criminal,” he says in a seductive voice full of promises.
His hand strokes a strand of hair from my face, and his knees push my legs open just enough for him to settle between them.
He leans over and kisses my lips, a kiss I welcome, parting mine to allow him in.
His taste is sweet, almost intoxicating.
He makes the world stop with just one kiss.
His lips leave mine and move over my body, from my neck to my breasts down to my navel.
He kisses his way down until he settles between my thighs.
He grabs the sides of my hips, forcing my body to melt against his face as his tongue passes over my center.
I am still sensitive from the vibrator and the dildo he used on me.
The slightest movement of his tongue makes me shatter.
A moan leaves my lips; it’s a plea for more.
It’s everything I can’t say with words. He sucks and licks and bites, and every movement makes me shatter into a million pieces floating in the universe.
It makes the world stop and move faster all at once, and he has been doing that for me since the day I kidnapped him.
“I need you,” I say between breathy moans, and the words are not words anymore. They have a meaning beyond them, one only he understands. And that’s enough. He is the only one who needs to understand this.
“Say it again. Beg for me, little criminal,” he teases as he moves on top of me and frees his cock from his jeans. He presses the tip against my clit, teasing me as he demands once again. “Tell me what you need, criminal. Beg for me.”
“I want you inside me,” I say shyly, the words barely coming out.
My face turns red. I have never been one to demand things or to ask for what I want.
I have always found it weird to do that.
I’ve always allowed my partners to take control, not in a dominant, kinky sense of control, but in a more general sense of not needing to make decisions.
“Speak louder,” he demands. “I want to hear you beg.”
“Please!” I scream as the sensation of his cock rubbing against my clit intensifies. “Fuck me, please.”
He smirks and pushes inside me without a condom.
I’d usually worry about that, but it’s not the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. His thrusts are greedy, even punishing.
He fucks me as if he hates me and loves me all at once.
It makes the world blend into a blob around us until we’re all that’s left.
It blurs everything into a fantasy—one he controls, one thrust at a time.
“You. Are. Mine. Criminal,” he says with each thrust, highlighting each word. It’s as if he’s trying to fuck their meaning into me, to stitch each word into my skin in an orgasm-blessed mark.
“I’m yours,” I breathe as my orgasm takes me. I let myself get lost in the moment, and he does the same. His release follows. I feel him stiffen, every drop of his cum hot inside me. The warmth fills me, blending with my own release in a way only he can offer.
He kisses my lips softly before he pulls away. “I’m glad you kidnapped me,” he jokes, and I start laughing. It’s a manic laugh mixed with the bliss of my orgasm and the ridiculousness of his joke.
“I’m glad I kidnapped you too.” He laughs with me, and this moment is everything it could be and more.