Page 51 of Furious
Her eyes widen, but I clarify what I’m trying to say.
“ I read that a man can get a very powerful orgasm by having his prostate massaged. And the way you do it is with a finger—or more—in the ass. I haven’t tried it yet, but I wouldn’t be against it if you wanted to try it.”
She doesn’t have to think about it. “There is nothing I wouldn’t try with you, babe.”
I kiss her. Hard.
“Lev.” she murmurs, lowering my boxer briefs with gentle fingers.
“Jesus Christ,” I pant, resting my forehead against hers, struggling to calm down. “Do you want to be on top, Zee? I might need a second to get myself under control or I’m worried I might be a little too rough. I’m too fucking turned on.”
Her lips quirk up in a little smile. “Or you could just show me how much I turn you on.”
My heart is thundering against my rib cage, my cock pulsing in sync with it. “I don’t want to scare you.”
She nips at my bottom lip. “You won’t. I’ll tell you if it hurts and we can always flip around and I can be on top. But I want to see what your rough looks like.”
I can’t even start to make sense of the emotions that war in my chest. Everything that isn’t Zara fades into the background.
I need to own her when I just told her I could handle sharing her. The truth is that I can only watch her fall for Chance and Ares as long as I’m confident that she’ll always be mine, too.
“Get on your knees.” I ordered.
The sight of her kneeling on the mattress in front of me is almost too much to bear, but she misunderstood my instructions.
“Not like that, Zee.” I chuckle darkly. “On all fours, face the headboard. You trust me, right?”
“I trust you.” She murmurs before doing as she’s just been told.
The sight of her perfect ass is something out of this world. The term spank bank has been coined for views like this one. It’s something that will be burned in my memory forever to access whenever the need strikes.
But why worry about a memory when I have the real thing in front of me, right here and now?
My cock is pulsing with a need so intense that I almost ram into her and fuck her for all I’m worth. But I force myself to slow down. Isn’t it funny for someone who lives for speed both on the ice and on the tarmac? But then again, races last several laps and you have to make sure you last until the end.
So I ignore my primal need to sink balls deep into Zara’s soft heat and kneel behind her.
I lower my head and slant my mouth to her opening. My lips massage her soft, smooth skin while my tongue enters her.
“Oh.” She gasps and I know she’s loving this because she pushes herself against my face, silently begging for more.
I fuck her with my tongue, bringing my hand around to play with her clit.
If Zara’s moans and pants weren’t enough of a reward for my efforts, the way she drenches me with her arousal is a sure sign that she’s into this just as much as I am.
I lick her until she’s close, her legs trembling and struggling to support her weight. Then I rise on my knees and slam home.
“Oh God.” She cries out, surprised.
I don’t move a muscle. If I did, I would come and I want to draw this out just a little longer. By the way her inner muscles are fluttering around my hard shaft, I know that she’s close too.
“Lev?” Zara asks when I stretch over her to open the nightstand drawer.
“You ok?” I check.
The answer is another squeeze of her muscles as she grinds her hips. I almost lose my shit, my control hanging by a thread.
“Oh, cold.” She giggles as I pour lube over her crack, tossing the bottle to the side.
