Get Lucky

Fuck.

“You can come when my cock is buried in you,” I whisper into her ear. I pick her up and pin her to the wall. “Not before.”

She gives me one of those ball-teasing groans in response, and I can’t stand it.

My teeth tear free one of the condoms as my hand works at my zipper. Then—shit yes—she takes over. Her hot hand encircles my cock and I try, I really try, not to pant or moan or do anything that might reveal just how in control of this she is. Her tender hand around my dick is my fucking undoing. She strokes my cock down to the base and squeezes me damn near cross-eyed before dragging her hand up again. It goes like that for a few seconds. Drag, squeeze. Drag, squeeze. Drag, squeeze. It’s heaven, but I know her pussy will be better, and I have to be inside her.

I take the condom out of my mouth, and I swear I mean to put the damn thing on, but my mouth finds the curve of her breast instead, and I pepper eager little kisses across her skin. My brain and body must have disconnected, because I know I need to be ready, but it seems more important this moment to slip a hand between us again. Feel her warm, wet flesh against my skin. So I do that, and she rewards me, her strokes coming harder, faster. Like she has a fucking line of sight to what I want, what I like, what makes me lose my mind.

“Fuck me. I can’t stand it anymore,” she whispers. Her lips whisper across my cheek, my neck, and her fingers circle the head of my cock, spreading the precum and furthering my path down insanity.

“I need you inside me,” she says. She takes the condom, still in my hand, and rolls it over my shaft. Thank fuck one of us was thinking clearly. Or more clearly. I don’t think either of us was doing much in the way of thinking.

I part her legs and ease her down, my cock drawing a line from her clit to the mouth of her pussy. She gasps and fists my hair, and I smirk at her as I sink into her warm cunt. Not all the way, just enough for her to get the idea. Then I pull out again and resume the wet path from her slit to her clit.

Fuck me, but she is tight. It’s glorious.

“I want you to beg me for it,” I whisper against her mouth, because, why not? I’m a masochist. But moreover, I really want to hear this woman beg. Tell me she needs my cock inside her, needs to come, needs me to be the one who makes her come.

She presses her lips to mine, hard and unforgiving. I grunt into her mouth as she rakes her nails down my back, my every nerve and molecule hypersensitive to her touch. Her kisses are almost as good as sex . . . but no, that has to be the alcohol talking.

I pull away at last, panting, then take a tour down her throat. Her taste, sweet and salty with sweat combined with everything woman, makes me harder.

I think it does, at least. At this point it’s hard to tell.

Then her mouth is at my ear, and she’s whispering furiously. “Fuck me right now. I’m begging you. Fuck me hard. Make me come. Please.”

I can’t respond, because she’s dragged my face up to claim my lips again, her tongue plunging, stroking, and I know I can’t hold on anymore, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t, because I’m not that much of a masochist. After circling her clit with the head of my cock one last time, I drag myself between her pussy lips and finally—finally—ease my cock into her. And she’s tight. So tight. Tighter than I thought, tighter than a woman has a right to be. Her cunt is pulling me deep. Her heat scorches me, and my rebellious brain—bastard that it is—whispers, demands, has the gall to tell me how much better it’d be if I were feeling her skin-to-skin. If that damn condom weren’t necessary. If her naked flesh were wrapped around mine.

And then I think, well, it can’t be better. It can’t get better.

Can it?

Mother of fucking god, why did I tease myself so much?

I release a ragged breath, and when I can’t go deeper, when I’m buried to the hilt, that breath becomes a moan. One she echoes.

Fuck. Her pussy is hot and perfect, squeezing me into oblivion. My name is a mantra on her lips, her hips following me as she tries to keep my cock inside her. But I need friction, and so does she. I pull back, savoring the feel of her wet, perfect flesh dragging along mine, then I sink back inside. I do this again, and again, memorizing everything about how she feels. And despite how intoxicating it is, fucking her in the dark, I find myself wanting to see her, watch her face flush and her lips part and her eyes go wide as she keeps chanting my name. As she comes all over my cock.

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