Chapter 8 #4
He lifted his head and started moving before I could even finish.
He sat up on the bed and pushed my legs apart and then ran his big hand over the inside of my thigh, spreading me open.
He licked his thumb, and pressed it to my hole, just a tap.
I held my breath, trying to hold myself together, to not fly apart, from the pleasure.
He bent down, flicking his tongue along my neck, and moving up until our mouths met and I opened for him. Messy, fevered kisses. Like nothing could be held back anymore.
He breathed against my ear, his hands still playing with my ass.
“You didn’t finish what you were saying, Counselor. You want?”
I leaned my head back, trying to get some air. “I want your cock.”
He pulled back to a kneeling position and grabbed his dick. It was uncut and that pink head glistened. My ass clenched watching him stroke it.
I lifted on an elbow, my mouth watering to taste him, but he shook his head.
“Stay right there, because I’m about to come just from the faces you keep making at my dick.” He tipped his head toward the bedside table as I laughed at how annoyed he looked at my “making faces.”
“Grab the condoms and lube in there.”
I reached over and pulled them out as he alternated between stroking his cock and playing with my balls and hole. By the time I handed them to him, I was panting again.
He rolled that Magnum on in record time and it was all I could do to not whimper, remembering what it was like to have that fat cock inside of me. The way he’d grind his hips, relentlessly, until he was all the way in.
“You already rolling your eyes?” he asked, not even trying to mask the smugness in his voice as he bent over me to grab a pillow and kiss me in the process. He stuffed it under my hips and pushed our groins together. My skin felt tight with anticipation.
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“No, that’ll be you in like a minute.” I balked at that and the bastard just laughed.
“Hold your leg up, baby.” He grunted and I instantly obliged, his sure hands already busy opening me up.
His locs brushed my thighs as he bent his head, focused on getting me ready, while my heart raced, waiting for what was coming next.
Patrice was the very embodiment of control and restraint, but whenever we were together like this, there was always a moment when something snapped and he turned into the dirtiest fucker in the entire world. It was an enormous turn-on.
“What’s got you so serious?” I could hear the mischief in his voice, and I braced for it. He was working two lubed fingers deep inside of me while we talked. “You thinking about the dicking you’re about to get? Hmmm?”
I gasped, my back arching off the mattress when he brushed right against my prostate. “As far as I can tell, the dick in question is still MIA.”
I knew I was playing with fire, but I was here to get burned to the ground.
He lifted an eyebrow and grabbed his cock, getting it right up against my entrance. “Oh. You want me to give you a better view.” He pushed in just a bit and I started shaking, desperate for it.
“No.” The word was one long moan. “I want to feel it. I want you to fuck me, Patrice.”
I brought my legs back, opening myself up to him.
He sucked in a breath and glided a shaky hand over my thighs. “Fuck. I’ve dreamt of this. This. How tight you are, how fucking good you feel.”
“Do it,” I said, thrusting to meet him as he worked himself inside.
He did.
Worked that cock in until I was so full I could only take short, sharp breaths. Once he was all the way in, he leaned over me and started moving.
“Easton.” He was panting in my ear as he moved, his hips circling in and out in a way that made me feel every inch of him.
“God, why is your dick so fucking amazing?”
He laughed and panted out, “You feel pretty damn good, too, come on, tighten around me, baby.” I clenched around him and he rolled his eyes. “Awww, that’s so good. I swear, I could spend days fucking you.”
I knew this was just the moment, the pleasure, but I wanted to say things. Tell him that no one ever felt this good, that I’d never been able to lose myself in someone like I did with him.
After a moment, his thrusts redoubled and I felt that flooding in my groin when I was about to come.
I unhooked one of my arms from around his neck and started stroking my cock. After just a few, I felt myself going over. “I’m coming,” I muttered through gritted teeth.
Patrice nodded, slamming into me. “Good, I want to feel it when you come. Come on, cheri mwen, let me feel you.” His breaths were getting shorter and shorter, sweat dripping off his skin.
I gasped as my vision whited out, and in the distance, I could hear Patrice moan as shudders coursed through him.
After a moment he let himself fall on top of me, slick with sweat.
His voice was muffled, but I heard him clearly when he said—with just enough remorse to make me cringe—shit.
If I’d had any sense of self-preservation at all when it came to Patrice Denis, I would’ve gotten up then and walked out, but instead, I lay there with my eyes closed, letting the exhaustion of the sleepless night and the afterglows of the mind-blowing sex take over.