Page 48 of Ridin' Free
He gave me just what I needed.
But as soon as he pulled out of me, I wanted more.
I was still short of breath when I let go of his hair and looked down at him. I watched as he licked his fingers clean—and I saw it as his eyes darkened a shade before he stood.
He shrugged his way out of his kutte, folded it in half, and tossed it onto the countertop next to me before he met my gaze and demanded, “Tits. Out.”
He reached for the hem of his shirt as I reached for mine. By the time I was naked, his dick was free, and he was pulling a condom from his wallet. He was already fully erect, but I didn’t resist the urge to reach for him. The low, almost imperceptible groan that came from Twister as I stroked him was enough to make my pussy clench in longing.
He didn’t bother to remove his boots, and his jeans and boxer briefs were wrapped around his ankles as he sheathed himself before reaching for my hips.
“Line us up.”
It wasn’t until he said it that I realizedthiswas my moment.
Thiswas all I was going to get.
‘It’s my turn to take you for a ride.’
I grabbed hold of him once more, pressing his tip against my entrance, staring straight into his brown eyes all the while.
Then he thrust his way inside of me, stretching me open and filling me to capacity in one swift motion.
I gasped and reached for him, my hands grabbing hold of the back of his biceps.
“That’s right, baby—hold on.”
He pummeled in and out of me, showing me no mercy, and I took it.
Every. Fucking. Bit of it.
It wasperfect.
I didn’t feel pinned.
I didn’t feel trapped.
All I felt was friction—oh, the most glorious friction.
This wasn’t like flying.
It was better.
It was uninhibited, unbridled, unrestrainedbliss.
And Ilovedit.
“Twister,” I moaned, caught up in the whirlwind that was him.
He rammed his way inside of me and paused abruptly. My breath caught, not at all ready for him to stop. He then moved one of his hands, feeling his way from my hip, up my side, and then around my breast. He squeezed me, the sensation of my nipple scraping against his palm a pleasant one—but not nearly as satisfying as what he was doing before.
“What? Why’d you stop?” I panted.
“You’re in my house, on my counter—you will call me by my name.”
I frowned in confusion, my head in a fog.
Didn’t I just call him by his name?
