He leaned down and took my nipple into his mouth, his teeth scraping across my skin, fingers digging into my hips before hooking into my panties and pulling them down my legs. I pulled his shirt up and over his head while he pushed his pants down, freeing his straining cock. I licked my lips, wanting to taste, but was pushed back down on my back.
I could feel him at my opening a split second before he slid in, cursing as his forehead rested on mine.
“So fucking tight…every time. Why do you have to be so goddamn fucking tight?”
He rocked his hips until he was all the way in, and I felt full, whole. His arms wrapped around me, pulling our bodies flush as his hips began to move. There was a tenderness replacing the usual frenzy, a shift from what was and entering the possibility of what could be.
His hands, which were usually rough, were sensual, his need focused. His kisses were still hard, just calmer. It was like he was trying to burn himself into me with each slow, steady touch. I was caged in his arms. He was keeping me as close as possible; his head in the crook of my neck. His hips were slower, driving his cock into me in long strokes.
“Baby, you feel so fucking good,” he whispered into my ear. “So sexy, so fucking irresistible. Don’t want to fight it anymore. Beautiful Lila. You make me crazy.”
It was a slow burn, my body humming with each thrust in and whimpering with each stroke out, our bodies rocking together. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. The fire consumed me, my body and my heart opening up to him.
“You like that, don’t you? Oh, shit…you…you like my cock thrusting into you, don’t you?” he asked, wanting an answer. “That’s how dirty of a slut you are. Tell me—you like my cock always pumping into you?”
“No.”
“No?” he questioned, his voice losing the confident edge it held. He sounded unsure, his hips stopped moving, leaving him buried to the hilt. I had a hard time concentrating on anything at all when he was that deep inside me.
“No. I love it.”
“Fuck, shit.” His hips dug harder as his grip tightened. Speed increased, his teeth biting into my shoulder. I was getting close, whimpering at every movement.
If possible, he held me closer. His groans of pleasure had me shaking, sitting on the edge of my orgasm. I was panting into his neck, just behind his ear.
I wanted to mark him as he marked me, and I found my spot. I licked at his skin, tasting the saltiness of it. My mouth clamped onto the tendon right below his ear, sucking hard before my teeth pushed into his skin. Hard enough to mark, but not hard enough to break skin. Like he did to me.
“Shit!” he cried out, his thrusts becoming erratic.
I tipped over the edge, and screamed out his name as my * clenched around him. “Nate!”
“That’s it, baby, fucking come. Shit, shit. Oh, fuck. You really do love this shit.” His body started shaking as his hips stilled. Our eyes were locked with one another, his hooded and glazed, and I was certain mine matched. I felt him emptying inside me, and I shuddered in ecstasy.
After his orgasm, his arms gave out, no longer able to hold his weight. He fell to the side, landing next to me on the bed, and pulled me up so that my head was resting on his chest.
Hours later, I awoke with the need to use the bathroom, prying myself from the death grip he had on me. Once done, I walked back into the bedroom and gazed at his sleeping form.
The light was starting to come in through the windows, illuminating his body. He was lying there, naked, the sheet barely covering below the waist, one of his legs sticking out. I had never seen him naked before; he had always been half dressed. But in that moment I could admire him in all his glory.