Page 40 of Reckless Hearts
Luckily, I manage not to say that.
“Ah…hands and knees,” I say as I scramble into position.
I’m dizzy with need, and the only thing keeping me grounded is Marcus’s grip on my hips. His touch is both gentle and possessive, making my breath catch.
He presses slowly inside me.
Oh holy Batman, Marcus Johnson is inside me. How is this possible?
I focus on the sensations, trying to commit this to memory because I want to remember every single detail of how it feels to have Marcus inside me.
It’s an overwhelming fullness, a delicious stretch that makes me feel like I’m being recalibrated on a molecular level. Every nerve ending fires at once, sending shivers of pleasure rippling through my body.
“You doing okay?”
“Never better,” I grind out.
It’s almost too much, the intensity bordering on overwhelming. But then Marcus pauses, letting me adjust, and suddenly it’s not enough. Suddenly, I need him more and I’m pushing back against him.
He moves farther inside me, bottoming out. He pauses to let me adjust and the feeling of completeness overtakes me. It’s like two elements fusing into something entirely new.
Then Marcus starts to move, and all scientific metaphors flee my mind. This is pure sensation, raw and primal. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure coursing through me. I push back against him, desperate for more, for everything he can give me.
The room is full of our pants and gasps.
“God, Seb,” Marcus groans, his voice rough with desire. The sound of my name on his lips in that tone is almost enough to undo me. I clench around him involuntarily, drawing a sharp gasp from both of us. It’s a feedback loop of pleasure, each reaction spurring the other on.
When he leans forward, pressing his chest to my back, I’m surrounded by him, consumed by him. It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.
The angle changes, and suddenly, he’s hitting my prostate with every thrust. I cry out, my arms trembling as they struggle to support me. Marcus wraps an arm around my chest, holding me up, keeping me close.
His hand wraps around my cock.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs in my ear, and I believe him. In this moment, I’ll believe anything he tells me. The dual sensation of him inside me and his hand now wrapped around my cock is almost too much. I’m teetering on the edge, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.
Marcus moans again and his teeth graze the back of my neck, and I’m coming like I never have before, all over the duvet. My orgasm erupts like a supernova, scattering stardust across my vision.
I’m immediately sensitive afterward, but Marcus only lasts another few thrusts before he buries himself deep within me and I feel his cock pulsing as he comes with a guttural cry.
Oh my god. I slump forward onto the duvet, my chest heaving.
I wince when Marcus gently pulls out, but I remain sprawled on my front, unable to move.
Is this what it feels like to have your brains fucked out? If it is, I’m willing to volunteer as tribute again and again. Who needs a mind when you can have sex like that?
Marcus lifts his weight off me, and I’m suddenly bereft of his warmth.
And then my mind is switched back on, whirling like a particle accelerator smashing together atoms of insecurity and ecstasy.
I thought that was incredible, but was it good for him?
If it was good for me, surely it must have been good for him. Do the laws of sex work like that?
Suddenly, I realize Marcus is climbing back onto the bed.
“Here,” he says gently. And I realize that’s where he disappeared to. The en suite bathroom, to get me a damp cloth.
“Ah…thanks.” I take it off him and awkwardly clean myself up before flopping back down on the bed.
