30. Blake
BLAKE
I know I should have asked.
I should have checked that he didn’t mind me sliding myself over his very large cock. My inner walls stretched to accommodate him, this delicious, hot mix of pain and pleasure firing through me as I lowered myself to his hilt.
Oh damn, he feels so good.
My body was working on instinct, you see. I honestly don’t think I could have stopped this. The physical drive pulsing through me took over, and I had to have him. I needed him inside me, piercing my most intimate self.
I’ve never experienced anyone this size before, and he’s stretching me to my limit, but I am pumping him like I’ll die if I don’t.
I’m not facing him, so I have no idea if this is as good for him as it is for me, and I really should check.
I’m being a selfish bitch right now.
Grady grunts, the sound sending a burst of pleasure right through me. When his hands land on my hips, squeezing like he’s only just in control, I can’t help a triumphant grin.
Yes! He is so into this!
“Protection,” he rasps, and I glance over my shoulder, quickly reading his dazed yet worried expression. “I’m not wearing anything.”
“I’m on the pill.” I puff and pant, riding him with short, fast jerks before slowing my pace and enjoying a few long, smooth strokes. “I’m clean,” I throw in, just to assure him that he really doesn’t have to worry.
I got tested before I left Chicago and haven’t been with anyone else since.
“Me too.” He groans, and I look back once more, watching his head tip back as he finally lets go and gives in to this.
Yes. We’ve been holding this on lockdown ever since we saw each other in that bathroom. And now, finally, we’re getting that release we so desperately need.
Leaning forward, I rest my hands on his impressive thighs and pump his cock like a piston. I’m so wet, it’s a smooth, slippery, mind-blowing ride.
My boobs are bouncing, the undulating rhythm adding a new layer of appeal.
It’s impossible not to moan, whimper, squeak, and make a myriad of other embarrassing noises as I lose myself in this man.
He’s all-consuming, my insides turning to liquid fire when his fingers trail down to my calves.
He squeezes, explores, tantalizes with each soft brush, the perfect contrast to his powerful cock slicing into me, creating an entirely new and heady rush.
Another orgasm starts to build inside me and I run with it, chasing that high as I lean back and sink right down on him.
His hands shoot back to my hips and he sits up, guiding my movements but still letting me be in charge. I’ve set the pace, and he’s going with it.
His panting breaths hit my shoulder, his fingers digging into my skin.
He feels so amazing, I can’t control this swell of power inside me. I come all over again, more erotic wails punching out of me as I surrender to this sensation.
He’s so good. He’s so, so, soooooo good.
I ride the wave of pleasure, still pumping him, my insides clenching around his dick and causing sounds to shoot out of him. Sounds that make me feel like a goddess. Sounds that warn me he’ll be firing off any second now.
“Do you want me to…” He puffs. “Pull…” He groans. “Out?”
“No way,” I quickly tell him, squeezing my breasts as I bounce on top of him.
His arms thread around me as he presses his lips into my back and lets out this guttural groan. I reach for his hands, guiding them to my boobs, and enjoy his squeezes as he holds on and rides to the end.
His grip on me tightens just before he lets out another grunt, then breathes a low, uncontrolled moan across my skin.
I can feel him coming inside me, and I match his noises with another keening wail that hopefully tells him just how amazing this feels.
He clings to me, his arms trembling just a little as he slowly floats back to earth. His energy swirls around me. It’s like he’s high and unable to do anything but hold me until his body comes back online. I get it. I think I’m high too. High on dopamine and oxytocin.
Oh my fucking life, this is incredible.
My heart is still galloping like a spooked horse, and I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to walk again, but seriously… walking is so overrated, right?
This unchecked giggle rumbles inside me, rising up my throat and popping out into the air.
Finally recovered, Grady sags back down behind me with a heavy sigh. His hands slip off my boobs, and I feel instantly bereft of his hold on me.
Looking back over my shoulder, I smile at him, about to turn around and snuggle against him when I notice his expression.
He’s looking kind of dark, staring at the side of the tent, his lips turning into a frown.
“What?” I whisper.
His jaw clenches as his expression crumples with what I think might be shame.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters.
He almost looks sick, and now I feel like total shit.
Anger spikes first—irritation that he’s wanting to ruin this perfectly mind-blowing encounter—but then it’s followed by a searing disappointment.
I want him to be celebrating with me, snuggling against me, securing me in his embrace and brushing his lips across my forehead.
But instead, he can’t even look at me.
It hurts, bruises, maims .
And I don’t know how to react.
All I can think to do is rise off him, ignoring the juices flowing down my leg as I scramble out of the tent fully naked and murder the soles of my feet as I head back to the freezing-cold lake to wash myself off.