I’m going up in a conflagration as he slides deeper, withdraws, then pushes back in, his knuckles bumping the under-curve of my ass. Lifting my hips, I meet his next stroke, bearing down on his fingers. Telling him I can take it harder, faster.
I can take it all.
With a rumble that rolls out of him and echoes in the room, he purses his lips around my clit, suckles it, and plunges two more fingers into my sex. He fucks my ass and my pussy, tortures my clit, the wet, lascivious sounds a beautiful assault on my ears, and I can’t hold on. I grasp for the remaining tatters of control, but they disintegrate, and I shatter.
When the pieces reconstruct, he’s crouched over me, rolling a condom down his erection, and I no longer have to debate if the spasms in my sex are due to anticipation or anxiety. Anticipation. All anticipation. I’ve just orgasmed harder than I thought possible, and yet my flesh is quivering again. The heat that should’ve been extinguished is stoked higher by the sight of that hard, thick length that will soon drive a path through me.
He falls over me, his arms braced on either side of my head preventing his weight from crushing me. The longer strands of his hair tickle my cheeks as he hovers above me.
“You ready?” he rasps, that all-seeing gaze scanning my face, searching.
“Yes.” I lift my head, crush my lips to his, tasting myself. “Yes.”
He reaches between us, guides his dick to me, and without preamble, thrusts forward, burying himself inside me. I arch so hard, my chest crashes into his. The pressure, the bite of pain, the overwhelming pleasure—they claw at me, sinking into me. I swear, for a brief, what-the-hell moment, I’m choking on them.
“Look at me.” His quiet, steel-rimmed-in-silk order penetrates the erotic cacophony gripping me, and I focus on the emerald stare that anchors me.
He lowers his body onto mine, pressing me into the bed, but not smothering me with his powerful bulk. Without freeing me, he slowly rolls his hips against mine, grinding against my clit, somehow stroking into me. Something completely unintelligible escapes me—a sob, a cry, a garbled plea for more—and I try to rock up to meet him, but he’s in utter control of this, his weight hindering my movement. All I can do is lie there and take what he gives me. But, God, what he’s giving me is…unbelievable.
Jay uses his entire body to take me. His chest rubs over my nipples, his abdomen caresses mine, his hips stroke forward, dragging his pelvic bone over my clit. He kneads my walls, nudges a place so high and deep inside me, it’s quickly enslaving me. Even his thighs sweep a tender caress over mine.
“Please.” I wrap my arms around his wide shoulders. Embrace his waist with my legs. “Please, Jay,” I breathe, uttering his name for the first time since the alley.
It’s as if his name on my lips snaps some restraint.
He lets go. Like a strong, indomitable tree limb being snapped by lightning. And I swear, I heard—felt—the crack.
He jackknifes up, sitting back on his heels and hauling me with him so I’m straddling his thighs. His mouth crashes down on mine as his hands fall to my ass. Cupping my flesh, he lifts me off him, the display of strength stealing my breath, as does the drag of him over my sensitive, nerve-packed core. And when he drops me back down, driving up into me, I forget about breathing, about existing, about everything but what his dick is doing to me. All I can do is hold on, like a shipwreck victim clinging to a piece of debris, as he uses my body like I’m his own palm in a hand job.
And I love. Every. Moment.
Wild. Raw. Devastating. That’s what he is.
His tongue plunges between my lips, tangling with mine as he buries himself over and over inside me, branding me. With every stroke, he bumps into that place that has my legs shaking, my heart racing, my ears ringing. Tearing my mouth from his, I turn my head, pressing my cheek to his damp shoulder. We don’t speak, the only sounds the wet slap of flesh meeting flesh, the suction of his cock withdrawing and pistoning back into me, the harsh air from our lungs.
All of it is too much. And oh so not enough. That telltale tightening begins deep inside me, behind my clit, and I whimper, needing something more. I’m so close…so damn close…
He slams me down on his erection. Spreads my ass. And thrusts a finger in that hole.
I scream. Explode. Detonate.
It’s like splintering from the inside out, and as I plummet to God-knows-where, I don’t care if those pieces are ever found.
“Fuck.” Jay’s grunt is muted in my ear. Both of his arms are wrapped around me now, jackhammering into me. In seconds, he stiffens against me, and even through the condom I can feel him throb with release.
As one, we tumble to the mattress, me still captured in his embrace. He rolls so I’m sprawled on top of him, my ear to his chest and a front row seat to the pounding of his heart.
I should get up, leave now. And I will. In just a second.
Yet even as the words echo in my head, I sigh and my lashes lower.
Because for the first time in over a year, I feel…safe. Protected. Needed in a way that is so different from the sometimes suffocating dependency of my mother.
The same unsettling sense of danger whispers another warning, but warm and sweaty from the best sex of my life, I don’t dwell on it.
There’s no need to be worried.
This is just a one-night stand.
