7. A Little Into You #2
He turns back to me, his gaze eating me up from head to toe, his eyes lingering on the flowers inked all over my arms before returning to my face.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, Leighton,” he says, locking eyes with me.
It’s intense the way he looks at me, how he talks to me, but most of all how he listens.
How he shifts between Leighton and Shutterbug, how sometimes he’s serious and sometimes he’s playful.
He advances toward me again, then sinks to his knees.
My throat tightens, my heart slamming against my rib cage at the sight of this big man on the floor, hooking his thumbs in the black lacy waistband of my panties.
Reverence flickers in his stare, but he’s not slow and sweet when he pulls them off.
He yanks them down, and when I step out, his eyes glimmer with flames.
He stares at me half-naked—no, mostly naked—in front of him.
A big, needy breath escapes his lips. Then he dips his face toward me, and gives a tease of a kiss to my clit. “After you come on my cock, I’ll spend a good long time eating you. But first, you need to get fucked hard like you asked for.”
Holy fuck.
I asked for it. I did. But he’s giving it. Oh, how he’s fucking giving it good with his words.
He rises, fishes into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, then hands it to me.
With eager fingers, I reach for the condom, not caring about anything else. Like I’m going to scour his ID anyway. With the protection in hand, I set down his wallet as he sheds his jeans, then his briefs. His thick, hard cock points at me. Standing at full attention.
And with a bead of liquid arousal just waiting at the tip. My mouth waters. Then I can’t help it—I smile. “I like that opinion very much,” I say, reaching out and gripping his shaft.
He’s hot and hard, the skin smooth and velvety to the touch. I glide my hand up and down his length. He shudders, like the feel of my hand on him is too much. But it’s a too much he seems to crave, since he covers my fingers, guiding me along as he throbs in my hand.
His eyes float closed.
He groans, so low I can barely hear the sound. But I’m not sure I need to hear it. I can feel his groan. I can see his throat move.
Then, he opens his eyes and blows out a breath, like he’s shaking off the momentary lapse in his focus. He bats my hand away, and takes the condom. “Now show me how pretty you look when you’re riding my cock.”
He sits on the chaise, covers his cock, and pulls me down onto his lap. “And get rid of this fucking bra right now,” he says, nodding to the lace still covering me. “But leave the locket on.”
Yes, sir.
I unhook my bra as he grips the base of his dick and offers it to me. I take the offered prize and rub the head against my wetness. His breath hisses, and the sound and vibration from it thrums through me, turning me on even more. I sink down. An inch at first.
I moan. He groans.
I sink more till he’s filling me all the way, stretching me deliciously, and he’s cupping my tits too. It’s a sensory overload, and so is how he stares too. Like he can’t believe his luck.
He plays with my nipples for a few seconds, then sweeps his hands down my sides. I shiver as he goes, watching his arms, the strength in them, the way his muscles flex, how the arrow tattoo melts right into an inked tree, bursting with bright leaves.
They’re as beautiful as he is. I tear my gaze away from them, looking at his face.
For a moment, the world blurs at the edges, going a little soft and sweet. It’s just us, here in the studio in the early evening, no one knowing where we are, what we’re doing, or that we’re both having the best date ever.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Hi,” I say.
And the best dates end…like this.
He grips my waist, fingers digging into my flesh, and he takes the reins, taking over. I’m hardly riding him. It’s more like he’s fucking up into me.
With hard, deep thrusts that have nothing in common with the soft way his hands just grazed my flesh. No, now he’s rough, like I asked. Controlling, like I want. Powerful, like I need.
My hands curl tightly over his muscular shoulders, and Miles locks eyes with me as he drives up into me. Everything about this feels raw and necessary. The deep kind of fucking that’s a little merciless.
A little ruthless too.
I see that in his eyes, in the tension lining his jaw and the power in his body. He’s fucking up, but he’s also moving me on his dick, using me, but letting me use him too.
He seems to catalog my every reaction. When he hits a spot deep inside me that makes me shudder from my head to my toes, he smiles wickedly and chases that spot again. And he hits it.
I gasp.
“You like that? When I fuck you hard?”
“Yes,” I answer, in a desperate pant.
His hand travels up my chest, and he squeezes my right breast. “And this?”
“Yes.” I grow hotter, and he has to feel that, because his eyebrows shoot up.
“Oh, you really fucking do,” he says, seeming so damn pleased.
“I do,” I gasp.
He brushes his lips against mine. “I can feel your sweet pussy gripping me harder.”
Another gasp. Another crank of the temperature inside. But I can’t answer him. I don’t even know what I’d say if I could. My body has all the answers though as he twists my nipple, and I throw my head back. “Yesssss,” I moan, unbidden.
He kisses my throat then pulls back, grabbing my face. “Look at me when you come.”
I gasp but nod, my eyes focused on him. His dark eyes are on fire. His mouth is a demanding line. His need is etched in his face. “I will,” I say.
“Look at me because I want you to see what you fucking do to me,” he says, almost like an accusation.
And I love being accused like this. “What do I do to you?”
“You drive me fucking wild,” he says, the words harsh, so harsh they send a jolt of lust through me.
“How wild?”
“I’m so fucking into you,” he says, a feral sort of promise that’s way over the top for a first date.
And yet…it feels wholly true.
Or maybe it’s just that everything feels true with him. True and raw and electric as he drops a hand between my thighs. His thumb strokes my clit, his cock fills me up, and his words grip my dirty soul.
My vision blurs, sparks shooting behind my eyelids as lust grips me so deeply, and I come in seconds.
A long needy series of oh god, yes, oh god yes, oh my fucking god.
And when I’m done, this man I’m sitting on is smiling at me. Smiling as I nearly collapse in his arms.
“I’m not done with you, Shutterbug,” he says, tsking me as he maneuvers me easily on the chaise.
In no time, he’s pulled out, flipped me to my back, and is pushing my legs up my chest. With the condom still in place, he notches the head of his cock against me once more, staring down at me so our gazes are locked. “Now I want another one, Leighton.”
“If you think you can,” I tease.
“I can and you fucking will,” he says, and it’s a little scary how he says it, but a lot thrilling.
“Give me one then,” I toss out, challenging him right back.
“I don’t back down,” he says, then braces himself on those strong, sinewy arms. He shoves into me, and I scream from the blunt way he takes me, pushing my knees up to my chest and driving into me.
Miles is doing everything I asked. He’s not fucking me delicately.
He’s a little rough. A little demanding. A little angry. And I’ve never been more turned on than I am when this thoughtful, kind man goes wild on me.
It’s exactly the kind of sex I think I’ve always wanted but have never known to ask for. Till I met a stranger who seemed…enchanted by me.