Page 89 of Wildflower
“Do you remember what you told me to do?” I whisper and open my slit just the way he said to do. I had looked at my pink wet self and wondered what he’d think if he saw me.
Now I know.
His cock is rock hard and ready as he shifts to the side of the bed, not taking his eyes off my hand moving down there.
“Keep going,” he demands, and I move my fingers through my wet folds. “Good girl,” he rasps, and I moan at the praise.
I love it when he says that.
He bites his lip as he fists his cock.
“I’ve pictured you like this,” I say.
“What did Robin look like to you before today?” he asks. “Did you imagine I’d be this hard for you?”
“You are much more than I could ever imagine.”
He strokes his cock once more and then stands up. Somehow, naked, he feels larger than in his suit.
The broad, sculpted man takes up most of my vision as he stalks toward me like a sleek, giant cat, and he’s breathtaking. Also, a little bit scary.
But in a sexy way.
In the ‘he’s going to absolutely fuck my brains out and ruin men for me forever’ kind of way.
His warm hands clasp around my waist, and I shiver in anticipation. I’m so turned on I think I might faint. He drops his hands down to my hips and turns me around, so I’m facing the mirror.
“Look at you, so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against my neck while keeping eye contact in the mirror. I watch us; the hard, muscular man with a sprinkle of dark hair on his chest, and my gentle curves. We look good together. He cups my breasts and lets out what sounds like a growl.
“These tits are perfection,” he rasps, pressing me close tohim now, his body warm on me, and his cock hard against my back. For the second time this evening, I’m so wet I’m sure it’ll be running down my thighs. A whimper escapes me as he rubs my hard nipples between his fingertips.
One of his hands lets go and travels down my stomach, while the other keeps working my nipple. His gaze is fierce on me in the mirror, and it intensifies when his hand trails down towards my centre. I shift my leg for him to access more of me.
“Patience,” he rumbles against the skin of my shoulder, and goosebumps erupt across my body.
“You’re killing me,” I say, and it comes out as a whine. “Touch me, fuck me again, please, Mark.”
His cock is so hard up against my back, and I can feel it pulsating. He’s got some serious self-control. More than I can say about myself. I grind against his fingers, desperate for contact in the right spot.
“Look at you,” he says. “Soaking for me.”
He opens my slit the way I did earlier, and the light brush of his touch over my sensitive front makes me shiver and mewl. It’s torturous when he’s not touching me where I need it.
“You have an absolutely perfect cunt.”
Oh, that filthy mouth.
“Please,” I plead, and finally he moves onto my throbbing clit. “Ah,” I cry out. His fingers slide down while palming my clit. He’s wound me up so much, the sensation of his gentle touch is intense. It spreads. Warm waves of pleasure radiates through my body, building up inside me and I moan, leaning my head back against him.
He reaches my sensitive opening, wetting his fingers before he slides back up. The friction of his hand on my needy skin—moving up and down, touching all the areas I need him to as if he can read my mind—makes me unravel in his arms. He goesfaster, riding out my orgasm while he holds the quivering mess of me tight.
There’s a scream lingering in the air after, and I realise it must be mine. I see my reflection in the mirror. Red cheeks, mouth open. So fucking satisfied.
“Bloody hell,” I say, and he chuckles against the nape of my neck.
“Ready for me again, Rey?”
“Yes, please,” I whisper.
