"Rush, goddammit, please. I'm so close."
"So'm I, sweet thing. But I'm not ready to be done yet."
"I need to move."
“You move, you'll make me come."
"I want it. I want you to come, Rush."
“Contrary to my name, though, I don't like to rush a good fuck. And you, Beautiful Bryn, are giving me the best fuck of my life."
I laugh. "You don't have to—oh god, oh fuck—you don't have to flatter me, Rush. I'm a sure thing at this point."
He laughs, a rough bark of amusement. "You're funny, you are. But I'm bein' serious. You feel—" he cuts off with a grunt as he delivers another hard thrust, his hips slapping my ass. "So—fucking—good. Taking all the control I have to not cut loose and fuck you so hard your teeth rattle."
"Don't tease me with what you won't deliver, Rush."
His laugh is predatory, dark, dangerous. "Ohhhh, love. Now you’ve done it."
8
8: CAN’T STOP THIS
This girl is a fucking menace. Literally and metaphorically. I'm resorting to every trick I know to hold back my release—nothing's working. She's too fucking sexy. She feels too goddamed incredible.
Tight? As a vise.
Hot? As the face of the sun.
Wet? As a Slip ’n Slide.
She's a goddess. Her body is divine, taut and lithe and svelte and curvy in all the right places. The way she wants me, though. She takes every thrust with a greedy zeal that says she wants more and more and more.
And now she calls my bluff?
I am in so much trouble. I've always had a knack for getting myself into pickles, but this one is particularly tricky.
I'm meant to do something horrible to her. Betray her in the worst possible way. I should've already done it, but I couldn't. And now I’m literally balls deep in her hot wet cunt and she's gagging for more. Fuck her ’til her teeth rattle, she says.
Jesus.
How'm I meant to send a woman like her to hell? She's bold, tough, smart. Doesn’t scream or carry on like a fainting priss when I blast a hole in a man's stupid skull. Resourceful. Clever. Sexy—did I mention that bit yet? By which I mean hot as fucking sin. Miles of lush brown skin, wild, untamable curls. Deep, dark eyes that see my very soul. Those fucking curves. A pussy that squeezes my cock so hard I can barely move.
All that, and she's willing to play along with my silly games? Does what I say and begs for more?
Jesus.
I'm fucked. Fucked, I tell you.
Wanting to delay my orgasm as long as possible, I pull out of her and step back. My cock aches, my balls throb, but I grit my teeth and tolerate it. I'll be back in her wet heat in a moment.
"Bend over the bed for me, Bryn," I command.
She pulls herself away from the window, turning to face me. Stalks toward me, each step lithe and graceful, tits jiggling hypnotizingly. She grips my cock, pumping my length. Teasing me. Torturing me. Each stroke is agonizingly slow, her fingers gliding down my length, which is slick and slippery. I grit my teeth, feigning indifference when I'm frantically clenching every muscle in my body in an attempt to keep from squirting my cum all over her hands.
She wins.
I yank myself out of her grip, snarling as I pace away, furiously tightening myself against the hot release pounding in my balls. "Fuck, woman. You're killing me."
