Page 54 of Out of Control

I hiss out a breath as her hands slip beneath the waistband of my sweats and encircle my cock.

“I’m sick of fighting against myself over it. Of denying myself just how fucking good you are. How good you make me feel.”

My hands shove down my sweats allowing her the freedom to stroke me. And when she does, when she tightens her fist over my cock and takes it from root to tip, I lose all sense.

I’ve been stroked by dozens of women. Not a boast, just a fact. But fuck if her touch isn’t the most intense feeling—like ice and heat and every damn sensation in between.

“Sofia,” I groan and welcome her lips on mine as I run my hands up her bare back. As I soak in the warmth of her skin and the taste of her kiss. As I jump into this chaotic pleasure that’s welcome right now but that she might run away from tomorrow.

“Thank you for respecting me last night, Ollie,” she murmurs as her lips find my ear and her teeth tug on the lobe. “But for the love of God, disrespect me right now.”

Jesus.

I lean back and look at her as I wrap her messy ponytail around my fist. I love the little gasp that escapes her mouth as I tug it back. I love how her lips part just enough that I know she’s as affected by me as I am by her.

My chuckle pairs with her labored breathing until she tightens her hand on my cock and strokes again. Then I’m back to hissing. To wanting. To dragging my mouth against hers as we move to the couch.

“Jesus,” I murmur as I step out of my pants and push her to sit on the couch. “Spread those thighs, Bellissima. Show me that pretty pussy of yours.”

With her eyes on mine, she scoots her ass to the edge of the couch and does as I ask. There’s no hesitation. No shyness. Just pure unadulterated lust in her eyes as she opens up for me to see.

And what a sight it is.

A trimmed strip of curls. The light pink skin glistening in her arousal. The smooth, toned thighs on either side.

I groan and run my palms up and down the length of her thighs, grazing my thumbs over her center so her breath hitches and her hips buck.

I do it several more times. My eyes flicker back and forth from the darkening of her eyes to the clenching of her pussy with each and every turn.

“What do you want?” I murmur. “My fingers? My tongue? My cock?”

“You,” she pants out breathlessly. “I want you.”

Every part of me reacts to those words. To that admission. To her blatant desire.

And so after another circuit of my hands on her thighs and with a cock so fucking hard it hurts, I hold her knees apart and dip my head between her thighs. My tongue finds her clit and circles lazily around it before parting her slit and dipping down into her well.

Heaven.

My first and only thought—because no other thoughts are possible as I inhale her scent and savor her taste on my tongue. Sweet perfection. I bury my tongue in her, using short, quick strokes to give her what she needs and take exactly what I want. Her. All of her. Every fucking scent and flavor and reaction until she realizes that no other man will ever pleasure her like I am.

“Rossi.” Her hips buck up when I move my tongue to her clit and add my fingers to the mix. “Ollie.” Her fingers grip my hair as I pick up my pace. “Please. Yes.” She tightens around me as I continue the sensual assault with my tongue and my fingers. “Oh God.”

And when she comes, when her thighs tense on my shoulders and her muscles pulse around my fingers, I let her have the moment. Every blissful and aching moment of it. I try to be patient, I try to give her time, but like a man desperate for water, I withdraw my fingers and bury my tongue in her to taste my reward.

I lick and suck on the sensitive flesh as she squirms beneath me, her pants becoming murmured Ollies.

Her fingers loosen their grip in my hair.

Her thighs slowly relax and fall back open.

And when I can’t wait any longer, I quickly protect us, and then I push into her. My vision goes white as I fill her as full as possible. Our joint moans are like an aphrodisiac. Pleasure. Longing. Need. Greed. All four mixed up in that one sound.

“Feels. So. Good,” she murmurs as her eyes drift shut.

She doesn’t know the half of it. How she makes me feel. How strong the goddamn ache is to draw this out and to fuck her into oblivion. To savor and destroy simultaneously.

I lean forward and slant my lips over hers. Our tongues meet as she brings her hands up to my neck, holding me there. Needing me close.