Page 159 of A Match Made in Vegas


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No doubt, he is.

And I fucking love it.

But I need more.

"Fuck me," I groan.

"You know the rules, princess."

"Fuck the rules."

In response, he scrapes his teeth against me. It's enough, it just barely hurts, and that feels so fucking good.

My body aches for his. For more. For release.

I slip my hand between my legs without thinking. There's no patience in my touch. Only the intense need to come.

I touch myself exactly the way I need. The right spot. The speed. The pressure.

He toys with me the entire time.

The tension builds quickly. Everything inside me clenches and releases in a blinding wave of pleasure. The world is all pure, clean white. But it's not enough.

I need more.

I need him.

I shift enough to push his swimsuit aside, and I wrap my hand around his hard cock.

Relief floods my body. I need this. I need him.

He doesn't gloat over his victory. Just grabs a condom and rolls it on and helps me into position.

Slowly, I lower my body onto his.

I take him, one perfect inch at a time.

The relief I felt a moment ago is nothing compared to this. It's like I'm finally whole, finally free, finally where I need to be.

This is exactly where I need to be.

I soak in the sensation for a moment, then I pull back and take him again.

His hands go to my hips. He guides me up and over his cock again and again.

He stares up at me like I'm heaven-sent, then he brings his lips to my chest, and he toys with me.

We're a perfect circle of pleasure and teasing and release.

"Tell me when you're close." I breathe. "I want to come with you."

He groans a yes into my chest.

I move over him again and again.

His movements get a little faster. His fingers curl into my skin. He breaks enough to breathe, "soon," then he brings his mouth to my chest again.

I slip my hand between my legs.

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