Summer #3
His hands grip my waist, pulling me up and then guiding me down, until his hardness presses against my dripping wet pussy, teasing me, taking away any shred of self-control. He shifts closer, wanting, begging for a kiss, when I draw back, offering a question instead.
“Do you have a condom?”
He collars my nape, wrenching me to him, stealing that kiss which leaves my body screaming for me to shut up and ride him, and my mind blank to oppose anything he offers. When he releases me, I lean forward, my cells turning into polarized magnets, entirely under his control.
“I’m clean. I’ve never done it without a condom before.”
His hand slips from my neck and glides down between my breasts in a slow, torturous descent.
“You’re my woman.”
That hand finds my waist again, pushing me down onto him. The tip of his cock splits me, and his growl turns feral. I whimper, breath catching.
“Every curve of your body,” he says, pressing deeper with a hiss, “every inch of that soft skin.”
Another inch, and my whole body trembles, desperate for more. His hands slide to my ass, dictating exactly how much he gives me. I want to move. I need to chase that fullness, but he doesn’t allow it. He’s in control.
“Every strand of your hair,” he continues, voice rough, “every dark fleck in those blue eyes.”
He sinks in more, and another moan breaks free from my throat. His answering growl hits me like a fist, settling in my chest, claws curling around my heart.
“Every sound you make. Every breath you take.” His mouth tightens on the words. “All. Mine.”
One more inch, and my pussy screams for all of him while still fearing how much more there is. My chest heaves like I’m trying to outrun what I’m feeling.
“I want to fill you with my cum,” he rasps, “and watch it drip down your thighs.”
This time, he sinks in more than an inch, and I don’t know if it’s the words or the stretch, but another raw moan tears out of me, while my walls clench around him, answering for me—fucking yes.
“Take all of me in that impossibly tight pussy of yours, love.”
One hand stays on my ass, no longer holding me back, the other slides on my back and hauls me closer, crushing my breasts against his chest. And I take more of him. Then more—his groan swallowed by my kiss, urging me on—until the fullness is too much, like there’s no space left inside me.
I force myself down, taking him to the hilt with a muffled cry, my spine going rigid, every nerve lighting up all at once. It stings for a heartbeat, but the pleasure swallows it whole—pain and heaven braided together.
I’m so full it feels unreal.
This can’t be just one dick. I think it’s poking my lungs.
“Fuckin’ hell!” Atlas breathes out those words, and his head falls back, before looking at me again. “Told you we fit perfectly.”
We do.
Lifting myself until only the tip remains, I sink back down, taking every inch of him as my walls clamp tight around his cock.
A shiver rakes through me, felt even in my bones, and my eyes fall closed for a single moment, savoring it all. But then a harsh thrust and a hand around my throat make me see stars behind closed lids.
“Did I stutter?” Atlas rumbles, staying balls deep inside me. “All mine. Attention included.”
“You’re so . . . greedy,” I pant, breathless, gyrating my hips teasingly slow, angling myself enough for his hot skin to tease my clit. Enough for ecstasy to lick my skin like fire. Enough to extract a guttural sound out of him.
“Greedy means just wanting more. I want it all.”
He yanks me, devouring my mouth, his tongue fucking me as good as his dick does, while his fingers dig into the skin of my ass and back with enough force to leave bruises.
My hips pick up a perfect cadence, fucking myself senseless on his cock, chasing that mind-shattering high. And he lets me take control, lets me use him as my personal fucktoy, taking every thick inch however I damn well please.
Air leaves my lungs with the tension coiling inside my belly, forcing the rhythm to turn maddening, hurtling me toward that edge until I reach the precipice and take the leap.
The orgasm hits me with devastating intensity, shattering through my body, ravaging me repeatedly in an endless cycle.
Atlas breaks the kiss, looking at me with a face twisted by sheer pleasure.
“What are you doing to me, Succubus?”
A bear-on-the-loose growl fills the room, silencing both my moans and his name on my lips, while he pulsates inside me, further stretching my walls, making me addicted to that sensation.
Addicted to Atlas Holt.
He keeps thrusting, prolonging my high, wringing every last drop of pleasure, making it hands down the best orgasm I’ve ever had, until I’m completely and utterly spent.
How could I ever willingly deprive myself of this? Of him?
I can’t!
Once he stills inside me, he pulls me in, placing another ravenous kiss on my lips, stealing even more of my already ragged breath, hands squeezing my nape and my thigh.
“Summer . . .” His low husky voice sounds daunting when he says that name against my lips. “I’m never letting go of you!”
It’s a threat. One masked as a deranged romantic confession, but no matter what it is, I do believe his words. The simple truth is, I don’t want him to let go.
I’m so screwed!