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His eyes flash open and he grips my waist. I take a deep breath before sinking down onto him, deeper and deeper until I’m filled to the hilt.
I take a moment to adjust to his girth. His hands gripping me, his eyes burning, he’s screaming for me to move. But I’m not ready. Not quite yet. I take several trembling breaths before I shift on his cock, clear my throat and lift myself up, climbing his hardness with my pussy and then lowering myself back onto him.
I go slow, painfully slow for the both of us, because he’s thicker than I’m used to. He’s not content with the slow pace though, I can feel it in his muscles as he grips me tighter. So, I throw any concerns I have to the wind and just decide to enjoy the ride. I offer him a mischievous grin before I begin bucking against him with a newfound vigor.
I think it takes him by surprise; his eyes roll into the back of his head as I ride him with reckless abandon. I’m a fan of being on top because I fucking hate surrendering control. I think he’s the same way, but by the way he begins to thrust upwards inside me, I think he’s content to be exactly where he is.
“So fucking tight,” he moans. “You going to come all over my cock?”
“Oh God, yes. Please, Hunter. Please, baby,” I moan right back at him and then shrink inside because I just called him baby.
Sweat drips down my forehead, and down my breasts. I feel the flesh of his stomach dampening too. Our bodies slap together, and I pray that there’s nobody left in the shop even though logically I know everyone’s long gone by now.
The tattoo artist inside me begins to worry about his fresh piercing. He’s supposed to avoid sweating for a few hours afterward, but how can I bring myself to care when he feels so damn perfect inside me?
As his belt buckle slaps against my ass, he reaches up to fondle my breasts, caressing my nipples and playing with my piercings with hands that are both strong and gentle. I throw my head back and steady my hands on his thighs, then feel the warmth of his hot mouth around one nipple, his tongue once again flicking the barbell that runs through it.
“Yes,” I scream, throwing myself forward so that his face is buried between my breasts. I ride him harder, faster. And then harder still until the chair gives out from underneath us and is thrown back into a full recline.
It startles us both.
He lets out the hottest fucking chuckle while I steady myself above him. I waste no time getting back into the flow of things, this time enjoying an even better view of him.
His hair is slick and tousled, matted to the edges of his forehead with sweat. The muscles of his chest are hardened and red, and his abs are made of steel. I trail my hands over his long frame, reveling in every edge and groove.
I ride him even harder than before, thinking maybe it really will actually happen this time for me. Maybe I’ll finally be able to reach my peak with a man. After all, this is Hunter Kiss. If anyone can do it for me, surely he can. Only as one minute and then another goes by, I realize my body has betrayed me once again, allowing me to go only so far, ratcheting up my desire to an unbearable level with no intention of providing me with the ultimate relief.
The frustration and shame of it makes me want to cry but I can’t. I can’t let him see how broken I am. Instead, I pour everything I have into bringing him pleasure and driving him over the edge. “Give it to me,” I say. “Shoot your come inside me. I want it, Hunter. Now.”
“Fuck,” he cries out as he bucks his hips upward. Before too long, his fingers dig painfully into my sides and he’s shooting his seed deep inside me. I watch as he orgasms, his entire body straining. Every muscle. Every vein. He’s like a fucking Greek God and I’m so mesmerized by the sight of him that I don’t even think to do my usual routine of faking that I’m coming at the same time he is.
When he comes down from his high, I rest my forehead against his, then immediately straighten when his eyes open. “You didn’t come,” he says, his voice harsh and breathy. His palm cups my ass, but I brush it aside, his touch too much to bear at this point.
“I did.”
“Bullshit.”
I scramble away from him, nearly weeping when I feel him slip out of me. Acutely aware of his semen dripping out of me and covering my thighs, I swipe my panties off the ground. “I have to go.”
“Dani—”
“You need to make sure you keep that nipple cleaned,” I say as I climb into my jeans.
Without putting my shirt on, I pace to the toolbox and retrieve a piercing aftercare brochure. I pass it to him but he knocks it aside.
“Dani, come here.”
I shake my head. “Look, don’t take it personally. I can’t come with a guy. I’ve never been able to.”
“Then you’ve been with the wrong guys.”
“And there goes your big ego again.”
“Hey, big ego, big di—”
I throw his clothes at him, then quickly pull on my bra and sheer shirt. “Salt water works best when cleaning your nipple.”
He studies me for several taut seconds while I pretend to fiddle with my tools as if I’m packing them up. Finally, he says, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
