Page 21 of The Deceptions
Jesus. That’s not going to fit.
He doesn’t take his eyes off me the whole time. It’s like he’s committing this act to memory, so he’ll never forget the night he fucked some random chick in the bathroom.
“Tell me what you want, Crumpet. I’ll give you the fucking stars or the heart of anyone who harms you,” he rasps, taking one step forward and kicking his shoes and jeans off. “Tell me you want me.”
“I want you,” I say without hesitation, sucking in a breath when he stands between my legs.
Don’t think about the damn heart comment. Just open your legs and let him pound you so you forget yourself and your name.
“I want you, too. So, fucking badly,” he groans, dragging my ass off the counter and holding me as I dangle there. “Always have…” he trails off breathlessly.
“Prove it,” I goad.
“As you wish, Crumpet,” he says with a slight smile, leaning over me. “Guide me into you.”
Reaching down, I gently stroke his cock, wrapping my fingers around his pulsating appendage. A deep groan vibrates through his chest when I put his tip at my entrance. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t push forward as his breaths pick up and his eyes squeeze shut.
“Push forward,” I practically beg, needing him to be fully seated and bottoming out.
Slowly, with measured precision, he presses inside me. Inch by miserable inch. Stretching me until my back arches and my toes curl.
“Fuck!” I rasp out, digging my nails into his shoulder and leaving my mark on him.
The lust in his eyes intensifies when he finally bottoms out and my pussy flutters around his thick length.
His mouth pops open and breaths pour out at a rapid pace. But his eyes never leave mine, committing me to memory. Heavy hands land in my hair, tangling the strands around his fingers.
“Better than I imagined,” he practically chokes out, putting his forehead on mine. “So much better than my fantasies.”
But I ignore his words, focusing on the fire rapidly spreading through my veins.
“Keep moving,” I beg, panting when he surges his hips back and forth, jostling me on the counter. “Yes,” I moan, as his hands caress every inch of me, finally landing on my clit. I don’t protest, even when it’s so sensitive I want to back away. His fingers twirl around it with heavy pressure, going in circles until I combust, clamping down on his cock.
“Fuck,” he gasps out, tightening his hold on my hair until his mouth sears against mine and our tongues mingle.
His breaths rush out, brushing against my cheek when he stops all movement and simply stays where he is as his cum coats my insides.
Wait…
“You didn't wear a condom?” My eyes snap open, all the pleasure leaving my body at once, like ice pouring over my head.
It's too intimate. Too much between strangers in a bar.
Panic swarms me at the thought of… well, anything! STDs. Pregnancy. I mean, I'm on birth control to help level out my damn periods, but still. You never know.
“Don't worry, Crumpet,” he whispers, running his lips down my jaw, nibbling and begging for more as he thrusts inside me again. “I'm clean as clean can be, and I want to go again.” He thrusts forward again with a groan.
But that’s not happening. He sounds so confident in his answer, but I don't trust it.
Not one bit.
I slump, pushing at his chest until he takes a step back, taking his dick with him. He eyes me with a smile gracing his lips. Seeming more relaxed than he was at the bar.
“I'm glad you're clean,” I groan, hopping off the counter, grabbing my discarded jeans, boots, and panties, and immediately go into one of the bathroom stalls. I quickly clean up, throw on my panties, and zip up my pants, coming to a stop in front of him. He watches my every move, taking me in with a weird level of interest.
“I am,” he says, tilting his head. “Are you?”
I blink several times. When exactly was the last time I got laid, anyway? I shake my head. I can't remember. Apparently, I was going through a drought. A big, long drought of no sexy time, and Malic filled my cup.
