Page 157 of Seven Lost Summers
“Fuck,” he groans, watching my mouth fall open, my chest heave. “You feel so fucking good, so hot, so wet for me. That’s it, baby… grip my cock. Show me how much you fucking need it.”
Every stroke builds the heat low in my belly, winding it tighter with each slow grind of his hips.
He doesn’t rush, doesn’t chase it, keeps that unhurried rhythm, letting the friction make me shake and burn under him until I’m right on the edge.
“Yeah,” he whispers, a dark curve to his mouth. “There she is. Look at you taking my cock so fucking well. This pussy was made for me.”
He sits back on his knees, the ink sprawled across his chest catching my eyes.
My palm skims up the solid plane of muscle until it rests over his heart. It’s pounding hard and fast, each beat thudding against my hand like it’s trying to break free.
He catches my wrist, brings my fingers to his mouth, and drags his tongue over them before sucking one between his lips, before he kisses it. He pulls my hand away, presses it back over the frantic hammer of his heart.
“Tell me what you feel,” he growls.
“You,” I whisper.
That word rips a feral sound from his chest, and he’s on me again, forearms braced on either side, caging me in. His hips roll in slow, punishing strokes, cock grinding deep. The stretch steals my breath, every thrust leaving me tighter, my walls clenching around him with each deliberate pull and push.
He kisses me, mouth hot and wet, swallowing the desperate fucks and ragged yeses that spill out of my mouth.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against my lips. “This pussy’s already so fucking close. I can feel it. It’s begging me to fill you. But first I want you to come all over my cock.”
A sharp, deep thrust makes me cry out, my nails raking down his back. He smirks against my mouth as if he owns me for pulling that sound out.
The rhythm stays slow. Deep rolls that drag his cock over every swollen, sensitive nerve before sinking back inside me to the hilt. He shifts, angling just right, and pleasure detonates so hard my head tips back, a choked moan spilling out.
His mouth is on my throat, tongue and teeth marking my skin. His hand slides under my thigh, hauling my leg higher around his waist. The new depth is obscene.
“Better?” he says, his cock grinding in deep.
“Yes,” I gasp, clinging to him like I’ll come apart if I let go. “So fucking good. Please…don’t stop.”
His eyes go dark. He doesn’t break eye contact as he rolls his hips. The rhythm is steady but punishing in its precision. Each thrust leaves me stretched to the edge.
“Fuck… look at you,” he growls, thumb dragging down my cheek to my jaw.
The headboard bumps against the wall with every slide in of his cock. My thighs grip around his waist, not letting him pull back far, keeping him buried where I need him.
“You’re so fucking perfect. Every little moan, every twitch of this greedy pussy… fuck, I see all of it.” His fingers slide down the column of my throat, wrapping around it just enough to make my breath hitch. “I could fuck you until your body forgets how to do anything but come for me.”
I moan from the way his pelvis grinds my clit, the friction sending a rush of heat through my stomach.
His mouth curves faintly, dark with satisfaction. “Come for me. Eyes on me while I watch you fall apart.”
My thighs lock around his hips, holding him to me as my breath breaks into filthy, helpless sounds. Every grind of his pelvis against my clit lights me up until I can’t take it—
And suddenly the orgasm rips through me. It’s so brutal it steals every breath until I’m gasping into the heat between us.
Every slow drag out and hard push back feels so fucking good. Then he stills, stays buried to the hilt, cock locked inside me while I pulse around him, making sure he catches every single spasm. After a beat he starts to move again, long, ruthless thrusts that drag over every raw, over sensitive nerve until I’m squirming under him again.
“Yeah,” he breathes against my mouth, the words almost a growl. “Take it… fuck, you’re perfect.”
I moan into the kiss. Every nerve feels frayed, begging for more even while my body fights to keep up.
He pulls almost all the way out, before he buries himself to the hilt again with a groan that sounds torn in half. His hips jerk once, twice, then lock, every muscle in his body tensing. Shoulders rigid, stomach drawn tight, thighs steel against mine. His eyes screw shut, brow furrowed, mouth falling open in a silent gasp before a broken, guttural sound tears free.
The hot, rhythmic throb of his cock pulses deep, spilling into the condom in thick, heavy bursts.
