Chapter Eleven #3
He cups my pussy, pressing against my mound, and yes.
It’s exactly where I need him to be. I already gave him the go ahead.
So he doesn’t hesitate to divest me of my panties.
One thick, calloused finger pumps into me, slow and steady, and then two.
The pad of his thumb plays either side of my clit, making my blood surge hot right through me.
Guess he might have learned some anatomy in science.
I don’t know. I do, however, bless whomever taught or encouraged his love of hand jobs.
Because it’s obscene how wet and aching I am.
How he stares at my cunt like it’s a thing of beauty.
Then he licks his lips and presses kisses to my belly, to my mound, to the sensitive crease where my body meets my thigh.
Skilled fingers pinch my clit lightly and my insides squeeze so tight.
Playtime has sadly come to an end. The man has serious work to do.
“Fuck, you smell good,” he says from between my legs. “You wet is my favorite.”
And I pull on his hair just a little. Enough to distract him. “Put on a condom now.”
“I haven’t eaten you yet.”
“Eat me later.”
He hangs his head with much drama. “Your lack of patience saddens me greatly.”
“Why are you talking? And why are your pants still on?”
He nips at my inner thigh, a short, sharp sting, and stands tall.
The feral grin is back and it’s thrilling as fuck.
It’s some rockstar talent to look good while removing cowboy boots, jeans, and his boxer briefs.
His muscular thighs are a thing of beauty.
The thick length of his cock takes the bulk of my attention, however.
He pumps it hard with his hand and reaches for the bedside drawers.
Seems his house is as organized and well stocked as he claimed.
I am not an artist. Writing poetry or song lyrics has never been my strong suit. I would, however, be willing to try to commemorate this moment. The heat in his eyes and the graceful curve in his dick. The no-nonsense way he rolls the condom down his length.
I move into the middle of the bed and he crawls after me with intent.
Strong hands push my legs farther apart.
I’m wet and aching and more than ready. My hands slide over his shoulders, encouraging him closer.
Then it’s the heat of him over me and inside me as he guides the blunt head to my entrance.
His mouth is on mine and we’re a hot wet mess.
Slow and sure and steady, he presses into me. And he watches my face.
“You couldn’t make me rush this if you tried,” he says. “Watching you take me the first time.”
My mouth opens just so. Like I need the extra help to take a breath. His pelvis rests against mine and he’s buried deep inside me. Wrapping my legs around him and hanging on tight seems the only sensible response. Forget any attempt on his part to get away from me now. It’s not happening.
I clench on his hard length, just testing the feel of him. And the way he groans and grinds against me is everything. I swear the move sends sensation shooting up my spine like electricity.
“Your cunt looks so pretty wrapped around my dick,” he says, likes he’s just making conversation.
Meanwhile, I’m panting so hard its embarrassing.
It’s not my fault. Those super-dexterous guitar-playing fingers of his had me primed.
Add dirty talking and I am done. He draws out and slowly pushes back in, making me feel every inch of him.
The stroke of his heavy length lighting me up inside.
“Time to find out what you sound like when you come.”
If he asked me for feedback, I’d tell him it’s a great idea.
Just a truly noble and worthy use of his time.
However, he’s pushing into me harder and faster each time, making speech nigh impossible.
Sweat covers both our skins and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room.
And he’s searching for that right spot. The one to take me as high as I can go.
When he finds it, my back bows off the bed and holy shit. He fucks me into the mattress. With my legs wrapped tight around him and my nails scratching at his back. Marking the man like I own him.
Pressure builds at the base of my spine and every inch of me lights up for him. My skin flushed and my blood pumping. Every part of my body draws tight, focusing on just one thing. Then my inner muscles clench down on him, and I come hard enough to see stars. A universe full of them.
Nash swears profusely, his dick pulsing, and his hips bucking against me. His muscles stand out in stark relief and he presses his teeth into my shoulder. The man likes biting.
Meanwhile, I think my atoms were blown apart and put back together incorrectly. I feel discombobulated. My body and mind heavy and light at the same time.
“You’re fine,” he says, breathing heavy, pressing his cheek against mine. “I’ve got you, Junebug.”
Which is when I realize I’m crying for some reason. Like coming so hard released too much of the assorted crap and other things inside me. Tension and fears and I don’t know what. How weird and embarrassing. Only he doesn’t seem fazed in the least.
“I’ve got you,” he repeats, kissing the tears from my cheeks.
It’s then that I realize he does have me. He really does. And falling in love is fucking terrifying.