Page 32 of Seein’ Red

I push up, resting my weight on my elbows, eyeing him, trying to figure out just how he’s going to make me pay. His dick is standing at attention, a shiny bead of precum on the tip, begging to be licked off.

“You think I’m gonna have you suck my cock, huh?” he asks, taunting me. He strokes himself, thumb sliding over the tip, spreading the wetness. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

I nod, unable to say the words. Nash chuckles, continuing to stroke himself. Heat flashes through me, like a frying pan set on an open fire, the cast iron soaking in the warmth. All of me is on edge, waiting for the next move, eagerly anticipating the pleasure that comes with it.

“Well, you’re gonna get your wish.” Closing the gap between us, Nash crawls farther onto the bed, grabbing ahold of me and rolling us so I’m on top. “Here’s how this is gonna work. You’re gonna suck my dick, good and hard. You’re gonna use that mouth of yours like I know you can. While you do that, I’m gonna play with that sweet pussy of yours. Maybe I’ll let you come. Maybe I won’t. All depends on how good your cocksucking is, Princess.”

Fuuuuuuuuck….

In a snap, he’s repositioned us so I’m sitting squarely on his face. There’s no rest for the wicked though, his tongue darting out, swiping through my wetness. I gasp. Fuck, does his tongue feel incredible.

“Better get to sucking…”

“And if I don’t?”

Slap!

His bare hand on my ass stings, a heat now radiating out of that cheek. As much as I love the feel of it, I want his dick more. Leaning forward, I take him in hand, licking him from base to tip.

Nash curses, bucking underneath me, and that’s when I know I have him. This might have been his idea, but I’m the master. So I do it again. And again. Over and over, my tongue swirling around the head, treating him like a lollipop.

Then, I take him fully.

Just as I do, he finds my clit again, giving it all his attention. Licking, sucking, everything he knows I like.

Time stops, the background fading into nothingness, leaving just us. A mixture of sounds and moans, each of us focused on the other, trying to one-up each other in this. To see who can win. I’m determined to be it, to have him at my mercy.

Until Nash cheats.

Sliding two fingers inside me, he continues to focus on my clit. The combination of his sucking and tapping against the sweet spot is too much though. I let go of his shaft, rocketing upward.

I keen, my orgasm slamming into me so hard I don’t have time to think. My mind goes blank, eyes slamming shut, blinded by the bright lights of my climax. Nash doesn't let up though, tongue fucking me for all he’s worth, keeping this pleasure going for as long as he can.

Orgasm barely subsided, Nash shifts underneath me, rearranging us again. My head is still too cloudy from the high of coming so hard to figure out what he does, until he’s positioned at my entrance. I look down, my legs straddling his strong hips, his sheathed cock ready at the gate.

I take my time sinking down on him, enjoying the stretch. A sharp shudder rips through me, a soft moan accompanying it when I reach the hilt. I’m so turned on, all of my nerve endings hovering just under the surface. We haven’t even started moving and I’m already so close to coming, all it might take is⁠—

Snap!

Nash thrusts up hard into me, sending me flying. I explode, every synapse firing at will.

“Fuck!”

“That’s it, ride me, Willa…” he groans, thrusting again.

So I do. I ride him hard, like he’s the prize bull and this is the National Finals Rodeo. We’re a tangle of limbs and movement, kisses and caresses, our bodies coming together in a beautifully potent clash.

Sex with Nash is like a thunderstorm, loud and clashing. A turbulent energy that can't be contained.

Sitting up partially, Nash pulls me into him, kissing me hard. Fingers weave their way into my hair, the slight tug on my scalp a sweet gentle pain that perfectly complements the fervor.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” Nash whispers, pressing his forehead to mine. “So fucking beautiful.”

My exhale wobbles, like it’s running over a washboard as it leaves me, tears pricking at the corner of my eyes. I don’t know if it’s hormones or what, but something about hearing Nash tell me I’m beautiful does me in.

And I don’t fight it.

I don’t sass back. I don’t snark. I don’t even try to shove him away. Instead, I hold on tighter, letting a tear slip out. I hate this man. So much I can taste it most days.