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Mistake.
Huge.
So big, days later I would still be ruminating how big of a mistake calling Easton “the man I was fucking” was. It was worse, way worse, whole nother universe worse than calling him a dick.
The first thing that happened was his mouth slammed down onto mine. Foolishly I opened, then more foolishness happened when I moaned as the heat of his kiss seared through me.
What could I say? Easton was that good of a kisser.
Moaning turned into groaning when his hand went up my shirt. He expertly found my breast then just as expertly rolled my nipple until I started panting.
Easton was the best; a master at all things my body, and he’d touched and tasted and teased enough to know exactly what my response meant.
He tore his mouth from mine and irately asked, “Does that feel like fucking?”
I was in an Easton-induced fog so I couldn’t answer. Not that I had time before he rolled up, taking me with him. He yanked my shirt up and tossed it away before I was once again on my back, and he was tearing my undies down my legs. This all happened within seconds.
The next thing I knew he’d hauled me up and twisted me. I was on my hands and knees, and his hands were on my ass.
“You got a sweet ass, baby. It’s gonna look even sweeter with my handprint.”
I braced for a smack that never came. This meant I was unprepared when his hand went between my legs.
“Drenched.”
He sounded pleased, which in turn made my breasts heavy and my nipples pebble.
Two thick fingers slid through my excitement. Not one to start slow (except for morning sex which was slow and lazy start to finish) Easton set the pace he intended to keep. That meant his intrusion was about building my climax as quickly as possible.
I was well on my way when I whimpered, “Easton.”
I lost his fingers when he curled over me. His mouth went to my ear when he growled in the way that I super-duper liked, “Does that feel like fucking?”
Again I was too far gone to answer.
But if I hadn’t been, the answer would’ve been no.
“What about this, baby?” he asked as he rubbed the head of his dick through my wet and used it to circle my clit. “Does this feel like fucking?”
It didn’t, it felt glorious.
“Honey,” I moaned.
He slammed inside me. As he was prone to do, Easton wasted no time making his point.
Deep. Wild. Rough.
I slid straight to mindlessness.
The world vanished.
It was me and Easton.
It was Easton covering me. The scent of him. The safety of his arms. The feel of his dick. My body heating and getting hotter by the second. My breasts. My pussy convulsing. My clit throbbing.
Just me and him.
Just that.
