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I gripped her thighs, pulling her legs around me, needing not so much to get off, but just to feel her closer.
The kitchen island was the closest surface. Already I was lost to thought. Only feelings and need surged through me, wrapping around me, around her, binding us together in a fever.
“Spread your legs,” I said, gripping her neck like my hand was a collar and I owned her. I pushed her onto her back. “Let me see how wet your pretty pussy is for me.”
Her head fell to the side, as if she was in a trace, but her knees widened. I lifted the front of her skirt to see that patch of dark hair over her lips. Her wetness gleaming in the lamplight. Blood surged into my cock. I was harder than I’d ever been in what was possibly the shortest time. It was angry and red, and I needed to drive it into her.
Her tear-reddened eyes were on me. I wasn’t sure how long she’d been watching, but it was serious. A look of serenity andresignation. I paused, my thumb grazing her jaw, brushing across her lips. Her tears started again, but they meant something different now.
Or maybe they meant the same thing, and she needed me to fuck her tears away.
“Don’t you dare be gentle.”
“Oh, sweetheart. I won’t be.”
I gritted my teeth and squeezed her neck before sheathing my cock fully with one thrust.
Decca sucked in a breath.
“Oh, fuck, Crow. Look at you.”
I watched as I pulled out, practically crying at the sight of it. Pleasure shot through my body so completely, it didn’t start or end with the nerve endings in my cock, but my eyes, my fingertips, my heart, my shoulders. Electricity coursed through my body, down to my toes.
The sight of her tight little cunt inviting me in, opening to me, displayed for me like a work of art.
She was mine.
The thought stuck me on the second thrust. Her back arched off the table, and the angle deepened. We moaned in harmony.
Mine.
“You’re beautiful,” I said to her. To some part of her. I didn’t know, because barely any part of me had any cognition. The rest of me was floating on this electric wave of perfect pleasure.
“Gus,” she breathed. “Harder.”
Something broke inside me. I didn’t know I had anything else left, but suddenly I couldn’t stop. When I rammed into her on the next stroke, she screamed.
“Harder.”
Her nails dug into the wooden block.
My hand slid down to her shoulder. To brace myself.
When I slid out almost completely, she gasped at the end of the stroke as the head of my dick stroked the sensitive top wall of her vagina. When I thrust in, I came in contact with her clit from the outside. I was already on the verge of coming, and when I came, I’d be freefalling off a cliff.
“You take my cock so beautifully, baby.”
Loud gasping moans escaped her in rhythm.
“You feel so good. So wet and… fuck, I need you to come.”
I circled her clit with my thumb.
“Harder. Now. Press hard.” She pushed my hand down on her clit, and almost as soon as I’d made that rough contact, her face contorted as she screamed my name.
She sucked air into her lungs and intoned a long, sustained moan. Guttural and without pretense. Animalistic and primal. I stopped thrusting. Her pulsing vaginal walls and her bliss were enough to make me come along with her. Both of us existing for these long precious moments of pure explosive pleasure.
For those long moments afterward, I was blind. She’d recovered first, staring up at me dreamily with a sleepy smile on her face.
