Page 94 of Resist

“Is all this wetness for me, dirty girl?” His deep voice was laced with approval.

“Yes,” she hissed. She hadn’t underplayed her need for fast and… Right. Fucking. Now. She was seconds away from spontaneously combusting.

Coulton was mercifully finished playing. He drove two of his thick fingers inside her, pounding them in and out until she saw stars. It was amazing how quickly he managed to bring her to the brink of her orgasms.

Not even she could work that kind of magic, and she was intimately acquainted with her equipment and desires.

Her fingers clenched against the duvet as she sought purchase. With her feet dangling, unable to hold her steady, she felt a bit like a rag doll in a hurricane.

“Come on, wildcat. You’re right there. I can feel it. Your pussy is clenching tight enough to break my fingers. Come for me. Come for me, and then I’m going to give you exactly what you asked for.”

Ainsley responded as much to his words as his actions, something Coulton had figured out early on and used to his advantage.

She came. Hard. Her body jerked like she’d stepped on a live wire, Coulton drawing out the impact as he finger-fucked her through her orgasm, shoving her headfirst into a second.

Ainsley cried out his name, cursed then whimpered, begging for a reprieve.

“I warned you,” he said, pulling his fingers out even as she quivered.

She missed the fullness of them the second they were gone, but he didn’t make her suffer for long. The head of his cock brushed against her pussy, and she gasped when he shoved inside in one fast, fluid motion.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked as he withdrew, until only the tip remained.

She wasn’t entirely sure she was, but she also wasn’t about to stop him now. “Do it.”

Coulton gave her a wicked chuckle, a kiss on the back of her shoulder, and then it was on.

Ainsley couldn’t do anything more than hang on for dear life as he pounded into her with the force of a freight train. Doggie style was hands down her favorite position, because it ensured Coulton hit her G-spot on every return.

His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place, and she relished the thought of seeing his fingerprint bruises there for the next few days, a sexy reminder of tonight.

Not that she was likely to forget.

“God!” she screamed on one particularly deep stroke. Her back arched as her orgasm struck without warning.

Her climax triggered a chain reaction as Coulton growled. “Fuck, wildcat. So fucking good.”

She felt the first hot splash of come paint her inner walls as his hands landed on the mattress next to her, his hips jerking until he’d given her every single drop.

“Jesus,” he said breathlessly. “Every time,” he gasped. “Every fucking time is better than the last.”

Amen to that, she wanted to say, but unlike him, she couldn’t draw enough air into her lungs to speak.

They held there, connected for a minute or two, both fighting to recover.

When Coulton found the strength to shift away, they groaned as her pussy clenched, trying to hold on to him.

She grimaced when his hands softly slid over her ass cheeks, reminding her of his none-too-gentle spanking. She wasn’t sure what it said about her that she loved the tenderness, the soreness, the heat still there.

“Crawl into the bed,” Coulton directed, even though Ainsley made no move to obey. He’d fucked her into this inert state, and nothing was going to move her.

Or so she thought.

Coulton lifted her, carefully sliding her beneath the covers, on what had come to be “her side of the bed.”

Tucking her in next to him, his chest as her pillow, they lay there, both sticky with sweat, wrung out, exhausted.

“We should shower,” he said, the heaviness of his tone betraying how close he was to falling asleep.

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