I arch my back, seeking his touch, greedy for more—so much more. “You’re being such a tease.”
His hand comes down on my backside, the sting delicious and making me gasp as he does it again.
And again.
“Fuck!”
Harlan’s voice is a roar in the quiet cabin, the sound of his belt buckle and zipper being hastily dealt with ratcheting up the anticipation until I’m damn near thrusting against the table to get some relief.
He swears, and it takes a couple of seconds before I can focus enough to speak. “What’s wrong?”
“I-I don’t have a condom. I have lube but?—”
“Then use it or get on your knees, Mr. Frost, because you’ve got me so wound up I can’t take any more.”
A beat passes between us.
And then another.
A silent conversation that reaffirms just how much trust I’ve put into a man I barely know.
Harlan rips the packet of lube open with his teeth, before coating two fingers and effectively ending any coherent thoughts I might have been having.
He’s gentle but firm, getting me ready to take him.
“Hard and fast—will you let me, Christmas?”
Hell, fuckingyes.
Because there’s honestly not a whole lot I won’t let this man do to me.
“Please, Harlan.”
“I love hearing you beg for my dick.”
I whimper, the words filthy but making me so damn hard.
And then I feel him, spreading me wide as he presses the head of his cock against my hole, tension radiating off him in waves as he tries not to thrust in and out the way he wants.
The way he needs.
“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, his hips rocking gently, letting me adjust as his fingertips trail up and down my spine. “Are you ready for me?”
“Yes.”
My eyes squeeze shut as that single word of permission lingers between us. And then Harlan is pistoning into me, his hands gripping my ass, then my hips before his fingers tangle in my hair, forcing my back to arch as he fucks me.
It’s all-consuming, panting the only thing I can manage as he drives into me over and over with the kind of reckless abandon I’ve only heard about.
I claw at the table, desperately trying to hold on as the wood scrapes across the floor. He releases my hair, but only to press me harder against the table before he reaches around and grabs my cock, stroking me as he fucks me—and I shatter.
The orgasm is unlike anything I’ve ever felt, pleasure exploding and rushing through my veins, my vision blurring as I practically weep at the intensity of my release.
I gasp when Harlan pulls his cock from me, painting his own release over my ass and down the back of my thighs before he’s collapsing against me, his cum a sticky mess between us.
“I don’t think it’s supposed to be like that,” I murmur under his weight and loving every second of it.
“Like what?”
