Page 70 of Memories of Us

Instead of screaming in pain, I buried my face in the mountain of pillows and moaned, keeping my ass in the air, hoping for more.

“Baby,” he growled.

“Hmm?”

“You chose nap, not sex, so get that perfect ass of yours under the covers.”

“But you're so convincing,” I said with a little wiggle, silently begging him for more. “Again, B.”

His loud, guttural groan rattled through the room just before a palm smacked the same spot as before. My eyes slammed shut, and an unladylike, garbled moan pushed past my lips into the pillow.

Beneath me, the bed dipped and the mattress shifted. That time, instead of inflicting delicious pain, his callused hands reverently caressed down each cheek. My ass molded in his hands as he squeezed each side with a pleasure-filled moan of his own.

My breath caught at the slide of a hand dipping between my thighs.

“Hell,” he muttered, his lips brushing against the small of my back. “You loved it, didn't you.” To prove his statement, two fingers slid easily inside.

“Yes,” I pleaded into the pillow. A half yelp, half sigh escaped at the twist and curl of his fingers. “Fuck the nap.”

At my encouragement, his pace quickened, teasing me to the brink with his two dexterous digits. Soft kisses and not-so-tender nips dotted along each cheek. The pressure built, producing a sheen of sweat that moistened my skin. When I couldn't take any more, he flicked his thumb hard against my swollen clit. On their own, my hips slammed back against his hand and my legs quivered, barely keeping me upright through the force of my release.

Eyes closed, face still buried in the pillow and ass in the air, a slight pressure against my inside knees caught my attention. Obeying, I slid them along the comforter, spreading my legs wide.

“Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” he asked while stroking a loving hand down my right ass cheek before seizing a handful of plump flesh. “The sounds you make when you come are almost enough to do me in, baby.” The hand not gripping me slid up my back to tangle in my hair, holding my face to the bed. “My turn.”

Without warning, he slammed in, sinking deep with the first thrust.

“Fuck me,” he gritted out.

Inch by inch he withdrew, only to thrust back in just as deep as before. Again and again he pushed, chasing his release. Echoes of our skin slapping together filled the large room. An open-palmed smack against my ass pulled a startled yet desire-filled yell from my lungs.

“More,” I pleaded, shoving back for emphasis.

Everything stilled.

Brenton's heavy, deep pants were the only sound in the room.

“Brenton,” I begged. I attempted to wiggle to urge him on but was only rewarded with another stinging smack.

“Say it,” he commanded. “Say what you want.”

“More. More of you. More of that,” I pleaded.

“Of what?” he said in an arrogant tone.

The bastard knew full well what I wanted.

“Spanking, your hand against my ass, all of it. I need more, B,” I cried into the pillow. “Please.”

Sweat-slick skin pressed against my back, hot breath brushing across my ear. “We're not perfect, baby, but we're fucking perfect for each other.”

Both hands dipped to hold my breasts like anchors. He teased and pulled at my tight nipples while he pushed from behind faster and deeper.

“Again, baby,” he grunted.

“Please, Brenton,” I yelled. Every thought, every sensation focused on him. Each place he touched sparked a fire and added to the building heat between my legs. On the edge, I needed a push to find release. “Again,” I whispered, almost like a prayer.

At my request, he leaned back, still pumping hard, and smacked each cheek.

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