I dig my heels into him, holding on tight as he slowly pushes deeper and deeper inside. My hands grab the back of his neck, feeling the strength in his straining muscles, his hot, sweaty skin. He licks up the length of my throat and moans into me as his hands cup my breasts and his cock thrusts in.
“So warm,” he whispers hoarsely. “Just like this.” He draws out slightly and drives back inside, pushing me harder against the glass. Every single nerve is a live wire singing, and my heart is beating so fast I’m afraid it might shatter me and the glass.
He comes at me again, arching his hips up, his cock so thick and rigid, filling me to the brim. I can feel his ass flex against my legs as he pounds deeper and deeper in intense, animalistic thrusts. His mouth is hungry, wanting, as it devours my neck, and I feel so wonderfully desired, taken, needed.
Lachlan is just a pure fucking machine, made to fuck, to come, to deliver me into star-bursting ecstasy. He’s merciless in his lust, and I surrender every part of me. I’ve never felt like so much of a woman before, with so much of a man.
“How do I feel?” he asks, breath ragged, before he grunts with another long, hard thrust, and I’m forced to moan in kind.
“Unbelievable,” I tell him. “I need more.”
His hand slips to my clit and he presses his thumb there, rubbing with each thrust. “And now?” He pulls his head back to stare at me, his eyes flashing with every upward pump of his cock. “How does your sweet little cunt feel now?”
Dear god. Just his words, those dirty fucking words in that rough accent from that wet full mouth, is more than I can handle. I grab him tighter as my back hits the glass again and again. Each strike brings fear of breaking through, of falling to my death, while each thrust brings me closer and closer to pure fucking bliss.
“Look at me,” he commands, voice raspy and broken. I open my eyes—I hadn’t even realized I shut them—and meet his, inches away from mine. “I could watch you come all day,” he says.
I bite my lip, swallowing a groan as his cock drives me closer to the edge. “And I could come all day, if you’re ever game for that.”
“You’re fantastic,” he murmurs, kissing me quickly, hot, wet, and sweet, his tongue teasing the seam of my mouth. “So bloody fantastic.”
Something changes in his eyes, like a switch being flipped, and they look almost menacing in their desire for me. His pace quickens, his hips like pistons, firing again and again, my whole body slamming against the glass until I’m gasping, but I don’t know if it’s from fear or from pleasure. Maybe they’re the same thing right now because being with him, having his cock barreling into me, is as scary as it is amazing. Because the feelings that he’s stirring, the threats of hedonistic pleasure, have the power to take over my life.
He’s making me crazy. I’m insane for him, every single inch, from the line between his brows to his thick length inside me, and I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’m just here, being fucked hard against a thin pane of glass, high above San Francisco, holding onto a man that will eventually have to leave.
My orgasm sneaks up on me. I feel it generate from my core, spreading outward like a supernova, gaining speed in waves and waves and waves of stardust until it lets go, thundering in aftershocks. I yell nonsense, holding him tight, breaking away from his eyes because it’s too much for me to see. I can’t even contain it. I ride it, muscles jerking, body a ragdoll gone rogue.
He comes with hoarse grunts and powerful thrusts like he’s actually going to fuck me out of the window, but it’s okay because I’m already falling and falling and falling.
I collapse into his arms, not even able to keep my head up. Every part of me is both soft and translucent and shaking from the strain.