Page 30 of One Pucking Secret
I chuckle and slip a finger inside of her sleek entrance, then follow it with another. My tongue returns to her clit. My pace is slow at first, increasing in speed and intensity at the sounds of her moaning.
“Yes, yes, yes, Wyatt,” she moans through gritted teeth. Her pussy clenches around my fingers, practically trapping them inside of her.
I know she’s close; that’s my cue to up the ante. My fingers thrust harder, faster, and my tongue follows suit.
“Oh, yes! Yes! Oh, fuck.”
On the next thrust, Chloe’s body convulses. Her orgasm washes over her, and I can feel its power as her walls squeeze my fingers.
When she finally comes down from her high, I slip my fingers out of her. I peer down at her, her perfect nipples still hard. I lean forward to pinch one of them, licking the other before taking it into my mouth.
“Mm,” I breathe, giving her time to catch her breath.
“That was so…” she starts, but she can barely string a sentence together.
“You’re telling me. I damn near came just from watching you.”
I run my hands over her body, memorizing every dip and curve like my life depends on it.
“Can you handle more?” I raise a single brow. I already know her answer.
“For you? Of course I can.”
I smirk. Fuck, does she know how to drive me wild? I remove my shirt first, then unbuckle mybelt and tug off my jeans. Once they pool at my ankles, I step out of them. Chloe never takes her eyes off me as I slip my boxers off, revealing my massive erection that’s been aching to be inside her.
I reach into her purse, fingers brushing against the cool wrapper of the condom tucked inside. My heart races as I tear it open, the sound sharp in the charged air. I can’t help but steal a glance at Chloe. Her eyes, wide with anticipation, ignite something primal within me. This isn’t just about physical desire. It’s an unspoken promise of connection, a reclaiming of what we once shared.
With steady hands, I roll the condom down my length, my pulse thrumming in time with the growing urgency between us. Every movement feels electric, each second stretching as if the universe is holding its breath. I want her. No, I need her.
“Are you ready?” I ask, my voice low and rough. The words barely escape my lips before she nods, biting her lower lip—a gesture that sends a jolt straight to my core.
I step closer, our bodies nearly touching. Her back arches as I slide into her, a perfect fit that draws a gasp from both of us. My thrusts are firm, with a rhythm born of hunger and need,each one sending jolts of pleasure that light up my senses.
Palms flat against my chest, Chloe pushes me to a place where only raw sensations exist.
“Fuck, Wyatt, you fill me up so good.” Her voice is a velvet caress, spurring me on.
Leaning in, I capture the tender skin of her neck with my lips, marking her with every movement. “You’re tighter than ever, baby,” I murmur against her heated flesh, a mix of awe and primal satisfaction coursing through me.
I pause, hands braced on the edge of the table as I help her lie back, the polished wood cool against her fevered skin. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, each breath a silent plea for more.
“Harder,” she gasps out, her voice hitching with every thrust. “Make me come.”
“With pleasure,” I growl, the heat in her voice sending a surge of adrenaline through me. Her words fuel my every movement, and the way her body responds to mine—arching, trembling—only makes me crave her more. There’s something intoxicating about knowing I’m the one pushing her over the edge.
One hand brace against the table beside her, the other grips her hip, guiding her to meet each of my relentless drives. The sound of ourbodies coming together fills the room, a carnal symphony that drowns out everything else.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants like a mantra, her hands clawing at the polished surface, seeking something to anchor her in the storm we’ve created.
She feels too incredible, too damn perfect, as if she was made just for me. Every fiber of my being strains to hold back, to draw this moment out, to savor the sweet torture of her enveloping warmth. But then she tightens around me, a vice of pleasure that threatens to undo my restraint.
“So tight,” I exhale, surrendering to the inevitable as I come hard inside her. “Fuck.”
Our movements slow, gradually easing to stillness, until only the ragged sounds of our breathing echo in the hushed room. The air is thick with the scent of sex and the heat from our bodies.
It was good. Too good. It’s always good with Chloe. Lying here, with her beneath me, I’m hit by a wave of certainty—I don’t want this to be the last time. Not now. Not ever.
Clothes strewn across the floor, remnants of the urgency with which we tore them off. We move in a silent agreement, picking up discarded pieces. The cotton of my shirt feelscoarse in my hands, such a difference from the silkiness of Chloe’s tights that I bundle and pass back to her.
