Page 143 of Seven Lost Summers
Naked.
And it’s fucking breathtaking.
Every part of him is carved and solid, his abs, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. His cock stands thick and ready, swollen and leaking at the tip. I can’t stop staring. He’s so fucking perfect.
He watches my face as he crawls back onto the bed, his knees pushing mine wider as he moves over me again. His hands roam my body with purpose, dragging over my skin, memorizing every part of me all over again. His breath brushes my jaw as his body settles into mine, every inch of him burning against me.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “You have no idea how long I’ve fucking wanted this.”
He dips his head, mouth pressing against the hollow of my throat, and I register the weight of him everywhere. His cock drags through my folds; it makes me ache all over again.
He lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine.
He lines the head of his cock to my entrance and pushes in slowly, stretching me until I swear I can’t take any more. My body arches as I take in every fucking inch of him sliding in deeper. The pressure is insane, a brutal invasion that burns in the best fucking way. I breathe through it until he bottoms out, cock buried to the base, and everything goes still.
His hips press flush against mine. His hands tighten on my thighs, the tendons in his forearms pulled tight. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe at first. He stares down at me.
Watching.
I see something flicker behind his eyes. It’s not only heat or lust, it’s something dangerous that makes my heart slam hard against my ribs.
My pussy clenches around him, desperate for him to move, but he holds still, only watching.
“Fuck, Q,” he breathes. “You feel so fucking good I can’t even think straight.”
He pulls out slow, dragging every inch from my body until only the thick tip of his cock remains inside me. The stretch lingers, heat coiling tight in my belly, my walls clenching with the loss. Then he sinks back in with a deep, guttural groan that vibrates through his chest. The sound alone makes my pussy tighten, makes my breath catch.
My head falls back against the pillow, lips parted, a sharp gasp slipping out as I feel him fill me again. His thick and hard and fucking perfect. Every nerve in my body lights up. I swear I can feel the shape of him inside me, every vein, every inch, pressing deep against places no one’s ever reached.
His hips meet mine with a soft slap of skin, and still he doesn’t rush.
His gaze drops.
He watches his cock slide back in, eyes dark with something feral. Watching my cunt take him. Watching the way I open for him, stretch for him, throb around every inch.
His jaw clenches. His breath stutters.
“Fuck, Quinn… I want to rail you so hard you forget your fucking name.” His fingers squeeze my hips tighter. “But if I do, I’m gonna blow the second I start. You feel that fucking good.”
He drags his cock out again, before drives back in harder. My whole body jolts, thighs tightening around his hips.
I can’t stop watching him.
He’s fucking breathtaking. Beautiful. All muscle, his jaw tight, veins thick in his forearms as they hold my hips. His abs flex with every thrust, the lines of his body catching the light. His mouth hangs open, breath coming hard, the edge of restraint twitching in his throat.
His cock slides into me again, deeper, harder this time, stealing the breath from my lungs. The stretch of him is too much and not enough, the kind of pressure that builds and builds until it takes over everything.
He groans through his teeth, every muscle in his body stretched tight with restraint. The sounds he makes aren’t soft. They’re guttural. Primal. As if he’s right on the edge of breaking and holding himself there to punish us both.
“You’ve got no fucking idea what you’re doing to me.” His voice is rough, torn from somewhere deep inside him. His hands grip my hips, his pace never speeding up. Every thrust hits deep, heavy, bruising.
“Touch yourself,” he commands.
My heart stutters.
“I want to feel your pussy squeeze around my cock while you rub that pretty clit.”
A noise rips from my throat. A broken, desperate sound I’ve never made before. I nod without speaking, because words are useless when your body is burning this hard.
