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He bites, despite my shirt.
Despite my bra.
He still brings me pleasure and works my body like an instrument he’s spent a lifetime tuning. “We hit a year in a few weeks.” Unabashed, he slides one hand along my body, teasing my flesh as he moves down to the stretchy waistband of the yoga pants I changed into after work. Then he slips his hand into my underwear and pumps two fingers deep into my pussy.
There’s no slow moving for us. No testing. No worry.
There’s just us, finding ecstasy no matter how little time we have to ourselves.
“A whole year,” he repeats, pumping. Panting. Drawing me closer to the edge of oblivion so easily. “I kinda figured after so long, I’d feel less…”
“Horny?”
He grins, swapping breasts and taking my neglected nipple between his teeth. “Feral. What I feel for you, it’s not just standard ‘I wanna fuck that’ hormones.”
“Charming.” And yet, pleasure ripples through my blood, spiking in my veins until I set my feet on the mattress and fold myself higher. Closer. Squirming for more.
“I still wanna fuck you. Every single minute we’re together, I’m thinking about filling your tight pussy and making you cry for me.” He abandons my nipple and grabs my face, locking his fingers around my jaw and forcing my eyes back to his. “But I swear to god, I expected the desperation would wear off after a while.”
“I hope it never does.” I lift my hips and shove my pants down, the fabric scraping along my thighs and revealing all of me. We don’t have time for the long, languid lovemaking we used to do before a teenager moved in and made our couch his new home-base. And honestly, I’m okay with it. Because Archer’s fast-fuck is like lovemaking on cocaine. It’s addictive and fun and so wildly intense, it feels like I might vibrate out of my skin. I kickmy pants off, letting the fabric fall to the floor, then I reach down and unbuckle his belt. His jeans. I melt under his adoring gaze and groan when he massages my clit with the heel of his hand. “Fuckkkk, Archer.”
“You’re needy tonight too.” He helps me push his jeans down, kicking his shoes off and leaving the denim pooled on the floor. But instead of climbing over me, the way I expect him to, he drops to his back beside me, stealing his fingers from my pussy and smirking when I protest.
Loudly.
“What the f?—”
He grabs my hips and flips me up to sit on his lips so I’m facing the door, not the headboard. His palms bruise my thighs and his fingers force my cheeks apart. He exposes me in a way I’ve allowed no man to do in the history of ever. Then he buries his tongue inside my pussy and smacks my ass so I cry out.
Surprise. Pain. Just a little bit.
He’s always so careful not to mark me. Not to bring me harm.
But hell if he can lock himself down tonight.
“Suck my cock, Mayet.” He presses his hand to the small of my back and folds me over his broad form. Then he slips his thumb into my ass and holds me still when I almost shoot off the bed completely. “Take me into your throat and choke on my cock.”
“Archer.” Whimpering, a damn mess, I fist his dick and squeeze hard enough to send the man crazy, if only because he does the same for me. Then I bend over his body and follow his orders. Because I’ll be dead and buried long before I can resist taking him in my mouth when he asks me to. Opening my lips wide and swallowing to lubricate my throat, I take him all the way in, until there’s nowhere else for him to go. Then I swallow, groaning when he cries out and smacks my ass a second time.
To be played with by Archer Malone is one thing.
But to be the one playing with him is a whole other level of power I vow to never take for granted.
“Fuck, Minka!” He pushes fingers into my pussy once more, pumping fast, powerful, and effective when I explode. My release gushes. Making a mess I might be embarrassed about, if not for the fact he frantically laps it up. Guzzling, like he’s afraid of missing out. “You taste so fucking good.” He bites my clit and is rewarded with more of me. “So fucking perfect, Minka.”
I can’t talk, and I’m not giving up on my task to try. So I slide along his shaft, unsheathing my teeth to send him a little closer to insanity. I watch his legs, the muscles in his thighs and the curl of his toes to tell me when I’mdoing this right. Then I cup his testicles and whimper when he feasts on my pussy. He tongue-fucks me with abandon, drawing out my pleasure with his thick thumb doing things I never, before him, thought I’d like.
“God, babe.” He smacks me again, dropping back when I take him all the way to the back of my throat. He plants his feet against the floor and shoves up, forcing himself deeper and drawing tears to my eyes. Yet his pleasure brings me pleasure. His surrender brings power to my blood, so when he trades his tongue for his fingers, I explode again.
There’s nothing I wouldn’t give him. Nothing my body could deny him when we’re like this.
“Switch now.” He stretches his arm and grabs my hair in his fist, tugging just hard enough to curl my back. “Babe. Come up here. I wanna come in your pussy, not your throat.”
Both, I chant, tightening my lips around his length and firming my hold on his balls. I slide my lips along his shaft, lapping at his cock and drawing him closer, closer to the edge. His legs turn to stone as he fights the inevitable. His toes curl and his hand grows tighter in my hair. But I refuse to stop now.
“Minka!”
I allow a little more friction of my teeth on his skin. A signal, perhaps, to let him know I hear him. But I’m in charge right now. Then I wriggle my ass until he takes the hint and pumps his fingers once more. I cry out around his length, choking for oxygen and filling my airways with him anyway. Just him.Onlyhim.
