Chapter Twenty Two #2
Looming forward, I trail my mouth from hers to her jaw, down the column of her throat, feeling her pulse flutter wildly beneath my lips.
She tilts her head back instinctively, giving me access, trusting me with a vulnerability I doubt many others have seen.
That trust ignites something dangerously close to possessiveness in my chest. I temper it, focusing on the slow drag of my hands widening her thighs as my fingers shift higher and higher.
Just as I find her wetness, I latch onto her nipple.
Her cry is everything, the shudder of her body drowning out the party beyond the walls.
Nothing exists in this moment except us.
I wish I had the restraint to make this last. Instead, my cock is throbbing, aching to be inside her.
As soon as I decide she’s wet enough, I line up my plump head and gently roll my hips, pushing inside her inch by inch.
Meg’s expression changes, a pinch to her features, her eyes squeezing shut.
I still, but even then, a hiss escapes her clenched teeth.
Idiot. I know what this is. Withdrawing from her, she gasps and I ease her to sit upright.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Meg O’Connor, it’s that she never wants to be overpowered.
She doesn’t want to be claimed. She wants complete and utter control.
A notion we share but I’m not too proud to let her win tonight.
She sought me out with a plan in mind after all.
I lower back into my leather chair, my cock standing firmly upright between my thighs. “You set the pace,” I state, gesturing towards my dick. Every trace of tension that was riding her shoulders loosens in a second. The smile returns as she climbs onto my lap, lowering onto me.
This time, with me in the position of being fucked, it’s my eyes that squeeze shut.
Fuck, she is the tightest I’ve ever felt.
Her pussy squeezes my dick to the point of cutting off the circulation, the roll of her hips causing us both to groan audibly.
The chair creaks as she shifts, grinding herself down my shaft until she reaches the base.
We both pause to simply settle with the feeling, our skin already overheated.
I try not to overthink, to consider the consequences or reasons for her seeking me out.
Glancing down, I enjoy the here and now, the way she shifts to adjust before pushing up on her knees and lowering again.
She’s far more comfortable now, riding me with her hands pressed against my chest, her hair tumbling around us.
Similarly, I relax too. I glide my fingers down the curve of her back, feeling the subtle arch as my palm settles at her waist. Heat radiates between us, and when my thumb drifts lower to circle her clit, she inhales sharply against my mouth.
The sound is half surprise, half desire, and it slides straight under my skin.
I’ve been with girls who fuck like it’s rehearsed, like all of their best moans are copied straight from pornos.
Meg isn’t like that. She isn’t scripted.
She’s simply herself, and I envy that more than I can describe.
Shifting beneath her, I adjust our angle so that she’s pressed closer, so I can go deeper until there’s no room left between us.
My thumb rubs circles over her clit, my other hand encouraging her hips to roll.
I guide rather than force, watching her face for any sign of reluctance and finding none.
There’s only heat and determined resolve.
She groans every time my cock jerks inside her, filling her so beautifully that I could stay like this forever. If only my balls got the memo. Down below, they’re tightening, threating to blow and put a swift end to…whatever the fuck this is.
“Meg,” I mutter for no real reason. Her lids lift to watch the effect she has on me.
I can only imagine my cheeks are hollow, and my neck is flushed the way it gets when I’m about to cum.
“I can’t…hold it.” My voice becomes a strangled whimper now, the whiskey in my system burning through any sense of composure I usually cling onto.
Witnessing my struggles, Meg’s smile deepens and I exhale heavily. “Fucking minx.”
Grabbing her waist, I lift her to hover above me, unable to give her full control any longer.
My hips snap upwards, driving into her recklessly, hunting down the pleasure lingering on the edges of my psyche.
Meg cries out, her hands clamping down on my shoulders just as her pussy does the same. I almost black out there and then.
Paired with the scoring of her nails in my skin, I’m pushed over the edge, shouting my own release with an animalistic noise.
Even so, I can’t stop thrusting, chasing down both of our climaxes until I’ve spilled every last drop of cum into the condom.
Her tightness doesn’t ease until I slow to a stop, my chest heaving and vision dotted.
Holy shit, that was unexpected. That was like a clash of fire and passion, and I fear a single taste could quickly become addictive.
For a few seconds, all I can hear is blood rushing in my ears and the distant, muffled bass from downstairs trying to reassert itself.
Meg’s eyes are dazed, soft yet stripped back with the flush of her cheeks.
Licking her lips, she tucks her hair behind her ear and starts to rise when I clamp her in place.
“Not yet,” I rasp, grabbing her nape and dragging her into me.
My mouth finds hers, kissing her with slow intention.
I’m not ready for this spell to be broken.
The hands braced on my chest slide upwards, tangling in the base of my hair.
Tilting her chin gently, I brush my lips over hers in an unhurried glide, savoring instead of conquering.
Call it a post-adrenaline indulgence before we go back to being rivals.
She exhales softly against me, the sound more intimate than any others I’ve heard in this room.
Eventually, there’s no room left to stall. I have a softening situation I need to take care of. My forehead comes to rest against hers when we finally part, our noses brushing lightly.
“Time to face reality,” Meg comments. I nod, helping to ease her from me.
I miss the weight of her body draped over mine in an instant, my gaze drawn south.
A pinch pulls my brows together, the thin stream of red across my thigh glinting in the low light.
For a second, my brain doesn’t quite compute. Then it clicks.
No.
My gaze snaps to Meg’s back. She’s facing away from me to dress, oblivious to the revelation detonating inside my head. She was a virgin. I was her first, but…why? Why did she seek me out? Why has she chosen me to take that from her? What does she want from me now?
A cold rush spreads through my chest, extinguishing the warmth that had settled there moments ago.
My mind replays every second at double speed.
The hiss I mistook for being overpowered.
The hesitation I attributed to needing to be in control.
The way she clung to me when I thrust into her too hard and fast. And now, there’s a stiffness in the way she shifts her weight from one leg to the other, a subtle wince when she pulls her jeans up high enough to button.