Page 72 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

"Connor…” she whispers.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Please fuck me. Please..."

I glance down. I’m fully dressed. And she’s still naked.

But I don't need to hear another word.

Reaching for my wallet, I slip out the one condom that’s inside. I can barely reach for my belt buckle before she’s unfastening and throwing it aside.

Ariana takes over, reaching inside my boxer briefs and wrapping her hand around my already-stone hard cock.

With my name still a whisper on her lips, she rolls the rubber on, and I hiss as she covers me to my base.

“You’re awfully good at that,” I tease.

She smiles, brown eyes hazy. “I have a good motivator.”

With one hand, she guides me to her entrance. I can feel the heat of her, the slickness of her arousal, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to thrust into her right then and there.

Instead, I kiss her nose. “Are you ready?”

She licks her bottom lip and the surface shines. “I don’t think I’ve been ready for anything more in my life.”

I grin. “Good answer.”

Without hesitation, I lift Ariana back in my arms, cupping my palms under her rounded ass. With one stroke, I thrust into her in one smooth motion, burying myself to the hilt in her tight, wet heat.

We both moan. And I have to pause for a moment to collect myself.

She feels incredible, her body gripping me tightly as I begin to move, thrusting in and out of her in a steady rhythm. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper, meeting each of my thrusts with one of her own.

The glass is cool against her back, a stark contrast to the heat of our bodies as we move together.

For us, this is just another dance—one where we know all the steps.

"Oh god, Connor," she cries out, and I can no longer control myself.

I pound her, pushing her against the glass.

"Come for me, Ariana,” I murmur against her skin. “Let that pretty pussy squeeze me.”

The words are like a bolt of lightning. Ariana comes, her body clenching and convulsing around mine.

For me, it’s enough. And too much.

Her orgasm milks my own from me, and I come with a groan, spilling myself deep inside her as currents of pure ecstasy shoot through my every vein. I press her back against the glass, holding her tightly as the waves continue to crash, leaving us spent and sated.

I can barely stand by the time I pick Ariana up again. The walk to my bedroom is short, the sheets soft as I pile us both on top of them.

We’re both asleep within seconds.

Later—much later—when we lie tangled in sheets, her head on my chest, I try not to stare at her sleeping form. Try not to let my heart beat any harder.

I fail. The city glows beyond the windows, but I can't take my eyes off her.

Ariana Bristol Reeves is fucking gorgeous. And sensual. And smart.

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