Page 27 of Smoked

“Yes…” His grip tightens on my leg he’s holding up and his other hand slides over my pussy as I clench and convulse in front of him.

“Oh, oh, oh…” I breathe, as he continues, until I’m starting to crumple in front of him.

His hand slides from my pussy and he licks his fingers, loudly. He lets my leg ease down to the floor before he pulls me against him in a deep, mind-melting kiss.

I taste myself on him as he turns, lowering me down onto the bed.

His weight comes over me and I gasp—from the sheer, exhilarating pressure of his big body on mine. I’m flattened into the mattress and I can barely expand my lungs and I’ve never wanted anything more.

"Tess, sorry, I'm too heavy—” He starts to shift off and I grab his hips.

"No!"

"I'm crushing you."

"I know. And I like it. I want you to press me hard into the mattress." I pull him back down, wrapping my legs around him as best I can. “I've been thinking about this…your weight, pinning me, not letting me move…since that night behind the smoker. Your thick body makes me so hot and so wet, Wade.”

He groans and drops his head into my hair. "Jesus Christ, Tess. How did I ever find you?”

"I’ve been asking myself the same question about you since we met.”

He lifts his head and looks down at me, his hazy brown eyes dark, wide, and stripped of every defense. He kisses me, his mouth devouring mine, and his hips roll against me. I arch up into the delicious bulk of him.

His cock is like a steel rod between us. “I’m on the pill, Wade. Take me,” I whisper.

He moves back briefly to position himself at my entrance, then pushes inside me so slowly I think I might come apart before he's halfway there.

I’m already moaning when he’s finally all the way inside, the full weight of him settled on top of me.

I can barely breathe, but it’s magical.

"Oh my god," I manage, arching under him.

“Yes, that’s fucking good, baby girl,” he groans.

He moves slowly, rolling his hips, reading me—my breath, my hands and nails on his back, the needy sounds I make. And he adjusts to what I need before I can say it.

Between grunts and moans, he tells me I’m so beautiful he can't think straight. He tells me he's been dreaming about this since the cookout. He tells me what my pussy feels like gripping his hard cock. The words are rough, raw, and unpolished…and it's better than poetry. He has no clue how good he is at this.

"Wade…" I moan, rocking with him. "Harder."

And he gives me harder. The bed frame knocks the wall, and I'm crying out filthy things I’m hopeful the other people in the hotel don’t hear, though I’m beyond caring anyway. I tell him how full his big cock makes me feel and how much I want to be sore from him.

His rhythm stutters as he growls, and my nails dig into his back and his ass.

“Hell, I could listen to you all day. But I’m so close. Your pussy is so tight and slick. Come for me again," he rasps. "I need to feel it, Tess."

And he drives into me, one hand holding my leg out, the other bracing himself next to my face.

I can’t take it any more.

I shatter, the orgasm hitting more intensely than the first, and I cry out.

“I’m coming, Wade!”

He pistons harder as my body pulls tight around him, and I’m keening and letting him take me higher and higher.

“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh fuck⁠—”