Page 55 of Scornful

"Shh. Let me take care of you."

I wrap my oil-slicked hand around his cock, and he bucks into my touch. "Fuck."

I stroke him slowly at first, base to tip, learning what makes him groan, what makes his hips lift off the table.

My other hand cups his balls, rolling them gently, and his whole body shudders.

"That's it," I murmur, increasing my pace. "Let go for me."

His hands grip the edges of the table, knuckles white as I work him.

I'm mesmerized by the sight—this powerful man coming undone under my touch.

"I need to be inside you," he grits out.

"Then take me," I breathe.

He's off the table in one fluid motion, spinning me around and lifting me onto the edge.

My jeans and underwear disappear in record time, his hands impatient but careful.

"You sure?" he asks, positioning himself between my thighs.

Instead of answering, I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

The first press of him against my entrance makes us both groan.

"I don’t have a condom," he warns.

"I don't care. I need you."

He slides home in one smooth thrust, filling me completely.

I cry out, clutching his shoulders as he stills, letting me adjust.

"You okay?"

"Gods, yes. Move. Please."

He starts slow, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in.

Each thrust hits something deep inside me that has me seeing stars.

"You feel so fuckin’ good," he groans against my neck. "So tight. So perfect."

I've never ridden him before, never been on top, but suddenly I want to try. "Wait," I gasp. "I want..."

Something flashes in his eyes.

He lifts me easily, switching our positions so he's on his back on the table, me straddling him.

"Take what you need," he says, hands spanning my waist.

I'm nervous all of a sudden.

I don't really know what I'm doing, but the way he's looking at me like I'm some kind of goddess gives me courage.

I sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch until he's fully seated inside me.

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