Page 50 of Stuck-Up Big Shot
Fully wrapped and covered, I take my cock in hand, stepping once again behind her. I press her down, so her head lands against the soft mattress, and guide the tip of my cock to her entrance.
I hiss through clenched teeth as a primal, base level instinct explodes within me. Nudging at her opening, I feel the pliant give of her pussy and thrust in with one hard push.
We groan in unison, the tightness of her inner muscles adjusting and squeezing, creating dizzying effects that have me already seeing stars in my vision.
“Fuck, Button. Do you feel that?”
I’m not exactly sure what “that” is I’m referring to, whether it’s strictly the physical feeling of being joined as one, or the deeper connection that’s been buzzing around us for weeks. A sense of nostalgia of the past and a clear direction of the future.
I mindlessly move my body, thrusting in and pulling out, the slide of my dick through her deliciously wet folds inciting the provocative sounds of skin slapping skin. The bed moving underneath our weight and the rhythm of the rocking, the pattern of our fucking.
It’s almost too much.
I want to be tender and gentle but tear into her until she’s quaking so fiercely, she can’t stay upright. I want to probe her in places no one has ever touched and be the first man to make her scream in triumph after eliciting more orgasms out of her than anyone else before me.
My intentions are pure, but my desire pure filth.
I want to satiate my thirst with her and scheme to find other dirty means of getting us both off.
I want her bones to be liquid when I’m through with her, as she collapses on the bed filled with my sweat and my cum, satisfied knowing it was me who did it to her.
Pulling out, I flip her over onto her back, scooting her forward on the mattress as I slide back on top of her, sinking in deep once again. This time, I watch her lips part with an O.
My release climbs rapidly, until my hands are white-knuckled, one placed over her head and the other at her hip. Lifting myself over her, I watch her tits bounce every time I slam in and pull back out. And with each punch of my hips, she lets out a sexy gasp of pleasure.
“I want you to come again, Button. I want to watch you come apart and feel you spasm around my cock.”
She hums in agreement, eyes closing on their own accord at the sheer overwhelming sensations. I feel it too. And it’s so fucking good.
Sutton wraps her legs around my hips, digging her heels into my backside, her fingers clawing at my shoulder blades.
“That’s it, Button. Get there, baby.”
She keens and thrashes her head back and forth, lips parted and swollen from my kisses.
I feel my orgasm barreling, starting at the base of my spine, my balls tightening with my release, just as I see a wave of pleasure form over Sutton’s face, and her legs tighten around me.
“Miles,” she screams, as I throw my head back and roar out my orgasm, spilling everything inside her and coming hard and long.
Releasing it all into Sutton with urgency and shameless, shattering relief.
28
Sutton
Wakingto the warmth of Miles’s arms wrapped around me, his spicy, musky scent lingering over my body like a salty ocean breeze, is a feeling I couldn’t even describe if you paid me.
And leaving this spot of perfect contentment is definitely not on my list of things I want to do. But I have to get back next door to take care of Blackie.
Detangling myself from his cocoon of warmth while trying not to wake him is a task only Ethan inMission: Impossiblecould conquer, especially at this early morning hour. Finally extracting myself from the sheets, I roll over to the side of the bed, ready to stand up when a hand clasps around my wrist, tugging me back, my breath hitching out in surprise.
“Just where do you think you’re sneaking off to this morning?”
I give him a sidelong glance to see that smile playing across his lips before his mouth attaches to my exposed arm, kissing a light, tantalizing trail of kisses down to my elbow. I then find myself flipped on my back, facing the ceiling through some ninja move as he begins lazily sucking on a nipple between his teeth. I try to suppress the tremor that runs through me, but my defenses are useless against his sexual warfare.
The things he did last night to me—hallelujah, praise Jesus—were meant to bring a woman to her knees and wave a white flag of surrender.
The scrape of his beard tickles my sensitive flesh, flashing a lightning-fast arousal between my legs, which open to him on their own accord.
