Page 94 of Bad at Love
“Fuck!” she yelps, “Oh god. Oh god, Laz. Laz.” Her voice trails off into moans that shake me to my core. She’s so fucking beautiful like this, her body trembling beneath me, throbbing against my tongue. She’s becoming undone.
But I’m not done yet.
I’m only getting started.
With borderline desperation, I grab the base of my cock and straighten up, gripping her hips, the covers falling back behind me. Sitting back on my knees, I thrust into her, barely able to control myself.
She feels so good. A silky, tight fist that won’t let go.
She cries out, her eyes widening, but I can’t help it. There’s no time to do this gently. There is a fire raging inside me and only she can douse the flames.
I take a firm grip of her thighs, my hands sinking into her soft, smooth flesh, and hold her legs back while I pull out then push myself in again. She’s watching my cock slide in and out of her, and I’m watching too, crazed by the raw, primal sight of our bodies giving each other pleasure and how we fit so perfectly. Darkness against all this sunshine. Who would have thought that this moment, this us, could have ever happened?
“Does that feel good?” I manage to ask, my voice breaking as the pleasure floods over me. “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” she says softly, staring up at me. There’s a quietness in her eyes, a peace that I know too well. That same peace lulled me to sleep last night. “I love the feel of you inside me.”
Good thing she didn’t say cock. I’m not going to last long as it is.
I push into her further, slowly moving back out. Slow, slow. Warm. Slick. This feels so good without a condom, it makes my hair stand on end.
“Please don’t stop,” she says. Her voice is raspy, quiet, and so disarmingly beautiful when I’m turning her on. I could do this until my dying day, just this endless give and take, this exquisite pleasure I get from seeing her features soften, her body responds to me like she’s answering questions I didn’t know I asked.
I don’t stop, but I need to change it up if I want to keep going.
“Lift up,” I whisper to her, briefly pulling out and putting my hand beneath her left cheek, rolling her until she’s on her side. I grab her leg, admiring the soft curves of her thigh as she straightens her leg against my body. With my grip on her thigh, I slowly push myself in and out of her, sliding in even deeper than before. I’m hitting a sweet spot, and her mouth is falling open while her eyes pinch closed. She’s soft and aimless as my thrusts become quicker, and I’m reveling in the look of her beneath me.
I slip my hand down to her clit, so swollen, pink, and wet, and begging for my touch again. Her body tenses and she lets out a shaking breath as I rub my finger around in taunting, teasing circles, light as air.
She begins to buck into me again, wanting more pressure, wanting so badly to come on my cock and my hand. I give in because I’m bloody delirious for her pleasure and because my own thrusts are becoming sharper, quicker, my hips slamming into her at a rate that will make me expire sooner rather than later.
So much for taking it easy this morning.
But even if I’m being a bit rough, even if she’s sore and sensitive, she’s moaning in pleasure and I can tell she’s close to coming. Her body is shaky with strain, her breaths short and quick.
“Turn over,” I tell her gruffly, pulling out again and flipping her over on her stomach. I scoop my arms around her waist and pull her up until her gorgeous arse is right in front of me, two full cheeks I have to prevent myself from biting. That will come later. I wrap my hand around her waist, loving the sight of how small she looks against me, and position myself again.
“Make me come, Laz,” she says softly, her head down and her blonde hair spilling forward over her face. I don’t want to let her hide. I reach forward and make a fist in her hair, pulling it back so her neck is arched, the side of her face exposed.
“I’m working on it,” I tell her, tugging back sharply.
“God!” She cries out in a breathy burst of pain and then moans, “It’s working.”
With one hand pulling on her hair, I lean forward until my damp chest is pressed against her back, my cock so deep inside that we both suck in our breath. I slide one hand over her throat. I tighten my hold, choking her lightly, and put my lips to her ear. “How do I feel?” I whisper, licking up the rim.
Shivers erupt beneath me and I feel her throat moving against the palm of my hand. “Safe,” she manages to say. Her answer surprises me. She swallows and I let up the pressure.
“How doyoufeel?”
“Needy,” she groans. “Desperate. Mad. I feel like I might lose my mind. I need to come, please make me come.”
I moan, addicted to her own admissions, her ownfeverish hunger. The way she begs. I circle my hips, my fingers tightening around her neck and hair while my chest slides up and down against her skin. In turn she thrusts her arse back at me, and all thought and reason and sense of self are obscured by her satiny feel, the tight clench around my cock that threatens to take me to another world.
If she’s losing her mind, so am I. I’m no longer myself. Just an animal. I piston myself into her, over and over again, the headboard slamming against the wall. I can see us in the reflection of the painting above the bed, me fucking her raw, deep from behind, my muscles flexing as I push in, fast, hard, our skin blistering from such wild need.
My fingers work her clit, harder, faster, so slick and messy, slipping and sliding against her. Then she’s coming, and her pulse on her throat is racing into my palm. She cries out again, loud, frenzied, like she’s being obliterated in the most perverse way. The way she yells my name pulls the trigger.
I’m clutching her throat, her hair, and I’m coming. It’s like a dynamite set off deep inside. It blasts right through me, flattening my nerves.
