Page 65 of No Strings Attached
“You’re perfect. You take every part of me so sweetly. Let me take care of you tonight.”
I nod, eyes fluttering closed.
“Say it,” he urges. “Say you want me.”
“I want you, Henson,” I whisper, barely able to breathe. “I want you so much it hurts.”
He groans, putting his mouth on my puckered hole, and my hands clutch the cushions. “Oh, fuck.” I moan as he devours my ass, every nerve in my body lighting up like a blazing fire.
I’ve never felt this exposed. Never felt so undone and complete all at once.
When Henson finally stops, I can’t help the desperate sound that escapes me.
“Stay just like this.” His voice is deep and strained as he stands. I hear his clothes dropping to the floor.
Henson leans in close again, his chest brushing my back, hands settling on my waist.
My breath catches when he spits down onto my pussy, using his cock to spread the saliva over my entrance. His hand skims up my body and into my hair, fisting it just hard enough to make my eyes water. Then, his tip presses into me, slowly, and I whimper, wanting more, arching my back.
“Look at you.” Henson drags his hand slowly down the curve of my spine. “Bent over like you were made for this.” I let out a shaky breath, bracing myself harder against the couch. “Is my temptress desperate for me?”
I nod, but before I can speak, his palm comes down hard against my ass. I jolt forward with a groan, the sharp sting stealing the breath from my lungs.
“I asked you a question,” Henson snarls, voice thick with need.
“Yes,” I groan, barely able to get the word out.
He lets out a low chuckle. “That’s my baby girl.”
The moment he pushes forward, my entire body tenses, pleasure surging up my spine.
He moves slowly at first, deliberately, as if wanting me to feel every second of it, every inch of his cock burying inside me. Like he wants to make sure I know exactly who I belong to.
“Just like that, baby,” he growls, fingers tightening. “You’re taking me so deep.”
Each time he moves, I unravel. My body bends to him, molded by every thrust.
Henson mutters praise and filth in equal measure, and I can hear how much he needs me.
His breath turns ragged, his grip more desperate.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper, barely coherent. “Please… don’t stop.”
Every stroke pushes me closer and closer to the edge, until my orgasm rips through me like a lightning bolt.
I cry out his name, my body trembling in his arms.
With a rumble torn from his throat, Henson lets go, too.
His body jerks against mine, every muscle tensing, his hold on me fierce and desperate as he loses himself completely. His mouth finds my shoulder, muffling the low, broken sound he makes as he follows me over the edge.
For a long moment, we stay like that.
Eventually, Henson eases out of me with a soft exhale and pulls me into his arms. He lifts me off trembling legs like I weigh nothing, then sits back on the couch with me in his lap.
My forehead rests against his.
There’s only the sound of the fire crackling nearby, our breathing slowly returning to normal, and the feel of his lips pressing one soft kiss against my temple.
