And that all led to here.
My bed.
After midnight.
One orgasm each.
And seeming no end in sight.
I sank slowly back into her heat. The way her legs spread for me, her hips molding right into my hands as I pumped, it was like her body was made to fit mine.
Unreal.
Her smart mouth from dinner dissolved into sugar at my commands in the bedroom.
Incredible.
Her moans and pleas for more unleashed a side of me I hadn’t seen before. A man with an unquenchable need to satisfy.
Oh yes, I always pleased my dates. And yes, I was compelled by my own pride to do so.
This was different.
This was primal.
I quickly learned Esme was a woman with no boundaries and that made her even sexier than she already was. My cock in the back of her throat? She liked it. Her hands behind her back while I tasted every fold? She loved it. My hand fisted in her hair? She asked for more.
Nothing I touched fazed her. Nothing seemed to be enough to really satisfy her either. I moved us to the dresser where we could both look in the mirror, her in front of me on full display. I watched her face as I explored. Pinching, rolling, kneading. Her skin flushed each time I commanded her to do something, lighting a fire in her eyes that seemed both foreign and natural at the same time.
She was a confusing concoction that I couldnotfigure out. Sweet, needy, aggressive.
“Sink back on my cock.”
She used the dresser to push backward as my dick stretched her, a soft moan escaping her throat. “What do you want, Esme?” I whispered in her ear.
“To forget.” The words came out strangled and desperate.
She broke me right then and there. The man I was before I met Esme was gone. Leo Hancock, master of sex, giver of pleasure, friend to all, was gone.
A memory.
A man I’d never be again.