Page 53 of Sexting the Bikers
He glances up, eyes heavy, cock straining against his jeans. “You taste so fucking good,” he growls, and then he’s back at it, eating me out like he’s starving, tongue plunging deep and then coming up to suck my clit hard, over and over, until I’m shaking, teetering right on the edge.
I arch my back, pushing my tits up, desperate for more—his hand comes up, squeezing one breast, thumb grazing my nipple while his mouth never stops. I lose track of everything but his tongue, his mouth, the fire he’s setting off inside me.
When my orgasm rips through me, hot and bright, my whole body tightens around his mouth as I gasp his name. He keeps going, slow and soft now, licking me through it, letting me come down sweet and shaking.
When I open my eyes, he’s standing, unzipping his jeans, his cock flushed and hard as he looks down at me like he wants to ruin me all over again.
I’m still trembling from the way he just made me come, legs shaky, barely able to sit up. I wanted to push him, to tease him until he snapped, but in the end it was me who surrendered, my body open and desperate for everything he gave me.
Reaper stands over me, one hand working his cock—thick, long, flushed a deep red at the tip. He’s big enough that my mouth actually goes dry, and the muscles in his arm flex with every slow stroke. He’s watching me with that same fierce hunger, daring me to look away.
“Do you want to touch it?” he asks, voice rough, a challenge woven through the heat.
I nod, my cheeks flushed, the need to please him knotting tight in my belly. I reach for him, wrapping my hand around his cock, loving how heavy and hot he feels in my grip. I run my thumb over the tip, spreading the bead of precum, then slide my hand down, squeezing, stroking him slow at first, then faster as I feel him grow even harder.
He groans, his breath hitching, and I watch his eyes flutter half-shut, that iron control slipping for just a moment. I tease him, twisting my wrist the way I know will drive him wild.
He lets me play with him, lets me have control for just a heartbeat, and I can feel the power in it—how much he wants me, how close he is to losing himself. The sight of him, so big and hard in my hand, makes me ache all over again, desperate for more.
I keep stroking him, loving the feel of him heavy and slick in my hand, the way his eyes darken and his jaw clenches every time I squeeze just right. I drag my fist up and down his cock, teasing the tip with my thumb, watching him fight to keep control. I want to see him lose it—I want to be the one who finally makes him unravel.
But just as he’s about to let go, he catches my wrist, stops me, and pushes me back onto the desk. His body crowds mine, his cock nudging at my entrance, and my heart stutters in my chest. I want him, I want all of him—but there’s something I have to say, a secret that suddenly feels too heavy to keep any longer.
I draw a shaky breath, my legs trembling as he lines himself up. “Wait,” I whisper, my voice barely above a plea.
He’s impatient, breathing hard, hungry. “What?” he grits out.
I force myself to meet his eyes. “This is my first time,” I say, my voice small.
Everything about him stills. For a heartbeat, I wonder if I’ve ruined it, if he’s going to pull away and leave me empty. But he just looks at me, searching my face, his own breath coming slower, deeper.
“What?” he says again, quieter now, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
“It’s my first time,” I repeat, feeling exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being naked.
He takes a long, steadying breath, the hunger in his eyes replaced by something softer, almost reverent. He lifts me off the desk, and for a moment disappointment flares in me—I told him the truth, but I didn’t want him to stop.
But Reaper isn’t done with me. Not by a long shot.
“I’m a greedy bastard,” he murmurs, pulling me into his arms, his voice a dark promise against my ear. “And I can’t stop now.”
He carries me through a door to the room next door—a small space with a narrow bed, barely big enough for one, let alone two tangled bodies. He lays me down, his hands gentle, his gaze never leaving mine.
Moonlight spills across the bed, painting everything in silver and blue as Reaper settles over me, his body blocking out the world. For a moment, he just looks at me—his expression softer than I’ve ever seen, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail, every curve and flush of my skin.
He leans down, kissing my mouth, then trails kisses down my neck, slow and unhurried, letting me feel every brush of his lips. His hands slide up my sides, calloused palms cupping my tits, squeezing, thumbing my nipples until they’re peaked and aching. He lowers his head, drawing one into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make me gasp, his tongue hot and wicked.
My breath stutters as he drags his mouth to my other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, leaving me arching up into him, needing more. His hand moves lower, trailing down my stomach, fingers sliding between my thighs. I spread my legs for him, nerves fluttering with anticipation and need.
He strokes me slow at first, his fingers gentle as he circles my clit, teasing me until I’m writhing, breathless, my hips rocking up to chase the pleasure. He murmurs quiet praise, telling me how beautiful I look like this, how soft and wet I am for him. He slips a finger inside me, moving carefully, then another,stretching me, working me open until my thighs are trembling and I’m moaning his name.
He doesn’t rush. He takes his time, coaxing every bit of pleasure from my body, watching my face with that intense, focused look as he fingers me, thumb rubbing my clit in slow, torturous circles. My hands grip the sheets, my whole body burning for him.
When I’m close, so close, he pulls his fingers away and lines himself up, the thick head of his cock pressing against my entrance. He looks at me, searching my eyes for any sign of fear or doubt. All I can do is nod, breathless, desperate.
After he slides in, slowly, he holds himself deep inside me for a breathless moment, his cock thick and unyielding. “Fuck, Katya,” he murmurs, voice raw. He gives me a moment, letting me cling to his shoulders, letting me feel everything. I can feel the stretch everywhere, my body trembling as I adjust around him. The ache is sweet and sharp, nerves alive with every tiny movement as he begins to move.
He starts to thrust, slow at first, then faster, fucking me deep under the pale glow of the moon. Each thrust leaves me gasping, begging, nails digging into his back as he claims me again and again.
