His head goes back, mouth open. He lets out an elicit moan, the cords of his neck and the thick lines of his shoulders straining. Good god, watching him succumb to pleasure makes me happier and crazier than he would ever know.
Naturally I want to give him more. My hand works him expertly, knowing now just where to grip, where to twist, and judging by his quick breaths, I’m sure he’s close to coming. But he finally raises his head, his eyes unfocused as they roam over my face, fighting through a haze.
“Turn around,” he says, his voice so hoarse that it’s barely audible. “Please.”
I do as he asks. He pushes up my dress so it’s bunched up at my waist, and I bend over, grabbing the iron bars for support. It kind of feels like I’m about to be fucked in prison, like some kind of conjugal visit, and my deepest fantasies go wild. It’s not hard to imagine when you have a troubled, tatted beast of a man about to take you from behind.
His hands skirt my sides, over my hips, and down my thighs. I feel him crouch behind me, his fingers gripping my ass, and I try and sneak a look over my shoulder. He’s down on his knees and I can just see the top of his head beneath me.
I’m about to ask him what he has planned, but then I feel his face sink into me from behind, his hot mouth closing over me, his bottom lip sliding up over my clit.
Jesus. Being eaten out from behind? Yes, please.
He groans into me and I can feel the vibrations in my bones. I swell between his lips and he sucks me in his mouth like ripened fruit. I let out a loud gasp, my hands gripping the bars for dear life. It nearly knocks me off my feet.
“Love,” he whispers huskily, pulling back. He licks up the curve of my ass, my body exploding with a shower of sparks. “I don’t think I can ever stop tasting you.”
My mouth opens to say something but he dives, no, submerges his face back into me and I let out a low, guttural noise, like it’s being torn from my throat. I push my hips back into his mouth, a wild, uncontrollable need burning through me.
“Deeper,” I plead, so desperate for my release, my cheek pressing into the bars.
His tongue snakes inside me, then a finger, then two, and I’m thrusting back into him like a fucking animal. I know I must look like one of those wild, drug-high girls you see at a fuck-fueled sex orgy, but I don’t care.
I’m so close to coming.
I’m at the tip, looking over the edge, ready for the freefall.
Then he pulls back and I actually whimper in disappointment.
“You want more?” he asks gruffly, holding onto my ass. “Tell me what you want. To come on my tongue? Or to come on my cock? Both?”
“God, don’t make this complicated,” I whine, breathless and insatiable.
“All of the above, then.” He spreads my legs wider, my sandals scraping along the stone floor, and pushes his face back in, his tongue, fingers, and mouth absolutely everywhere.
I come instantly, my body a hair trigger. I’m a writhing, moaning, bucking mess of scattered nerves, my limbs dissolving like sugar. I’m barely conscious and I don’t know how I’m still upright. I feel him get up from behind me and hear the crinkle of a condom foil.
He grips my hips as he positions himself, and with one long, slow push he eases inside me. I’m so wet and ready that he glides right in. But oh, when he pulls back out, that slow drag hitting just the right spot, somehow I’m groaning for him all over again.
“Don’t stop,” I hiss as he plunges back inside, deeper this time, coaxing another unrestrained noise out of my throat. “Don’t you ever stop fucking me.”