Chapter 10 #3
“Hold on.” He yanked harder, and they finally came free, taking my underwear with them. And then I was naked. Completely naked. On Quinton Wesley’s bed. He stood at the edge of the bed, swaying slightly, just looking at me.
“You’re staring again,” I said.
“Can’t help it.” His voice was rough, thick with want. “You’re fucking perfect.”
“I’m really not.”
“Shut up,” he growled, and then he was on me, his mouth on mine, his hands everywhere.
I reached for his sweatpants, shoving them down his hips. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
And oh.
Oh.
His cock sprang free, thick and hard and already leaking at the tip. I wrapped my hand around him, and he hissed, his whole body going rigid. “Fuck—Viv—”
I stroked him once, twice, feeling the hot, silky skin, the thick vein running along the underside, the way he pulsed in my hand.
“If you keep doing that,” he said, voice strained, “this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.”
I grinned up at him. “We can’t have that.”
“Definitely not.”
He pushed me back onto the bed and settled between my thighs, and I could feel the heat of him, the weight of his cock resting against my pussy, and I was already so wet, so ready.
“Quinton.”
“I know. I know. Just let me,” he said as his hand slid down my stomach, between my legs, and then his fingers found my clit, and I gasped.
“Jesus,” he breathed. “You’re so fucking wet.”
“Your fault.”
He circled my clit once, twice, and I arched into his hand. “More,” I demanded.
He slid one finger inside me, then another, and curled them, finding that spot that made me see stars.
“Oh God!”
“That’s it,” he murmured, his words slightly slurred but his fingers devastatingly precise.
“Let me hear you.” He worked me with his fingers, slow and deliberate, building the pressure.
His thumb found my clit and pressed, then circled, and I was writhing beneath him, my hands fisting in the sheets, my breath coming in short gasps.
“Quinton. I’m going to—”
“Come for me,” he growled, and his thumb pressed harder, his fingers curled deeper, and I shattered.
I came apart completely, crying out his name, my pussy clenching around his fingers as waves of pleasure rolled through me.
He worked me through it, gently now, soothing, until the aftershocks faded and I collapsed back against the bed, boneless and satisfied.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
He grinned down at me. Smug bastard. “We’re not done yet.”
“Thank God.”
He reached for the nightstand, fumbling with the drawer, and pulled out a condom.
He tore the packet open with his teeth, which should not have been as hot as it was, and rolled it on.
Then he settled between my thighs again, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, and I could feel how thick he was, how hard.
“You’re sure?” he asked, and even drunk, even desperate, he was still asking.
“I’m sure.”
“Last chance to—”
I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him down, and his cock slid inside me. Slow. Inch by inch. Stretching me. Filling me. Until he was buried to the hilt.
We both froze.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
“Yeah.”
He pulled back and thrust in again, and we both groaned at the sensation. He felt so good, so thick, stretching me perfectly, hitting every nerve ending. “You feel—” he started, then stopped. “Fuck, Viv, you feel amazing.”
“So do you.”
He set a rhythm. Slow at first, controlled, each thrust deliberate.
I met him thrust for thrust, my hands on his back, feeling the flex of his muscles, the heat of his skin slick with sweat.
His mouth found my neck, kissing, sucking, and I tilted my head to give him better access.
The sound of skin on skin filled the room, along with our quiet gasps and moans.
It was perfect. Too perfect. I had never felt anything like this. This connection, this heat, this rightness. “Harder,” I urged.
He obliged, thrusting deeper, faster, and I cried out.
“Yes—God—yes!”
His hand slid between us, found my clit, and circled. “Come with me,” he said, voice rough. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
The pressure built again, higher, tighter.
“Quinton!”
“I’ve got you.”
He thrust harder, his fingers moved faster, and I came again, harder than before, my pussy clenching around him as I cried out his name.
He followed seconds later, buried deep inside me, his whole body tensing, a low groan torn from his throat as he came.
Then he collapsed beside me, careful not to crush me, both of us breathing hard, hearts pounding, skin slick with sweat.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke.
Then he turned his head and looked at me.
“That was…”
“Yeah.”
“We just…”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
He got up and disposed of the condom, then came back to bed and pulled me against his chest. His cock was already getting hard again. Holding me close, he whispered, “Five minutes and then I’m going to eat your pussy until you fill my mouth with cream.”
I gulped, slowly nodding as my vision blurred. “Yeah, sure. That sounds perfect.”
Quinton chuckled because five minutes later, he did exactly as he had promised.