He lifted me down from the cabinet. Immediately, he slipped the straps of my dress down my arms and pushed the satin material from my breasts. The gown fell to the floor. I’d already lost my shoes when he’d propped me up to go down on me, and now I was naked in front of him.
I stood with my back straight and let him look at me in the moonlight that streamed in through the large windows facing the river. His gaze both kindled my desire and made my stomach flutter. Which was…different. I was usually comfortable in my nudity. Usually proud and unashamed, and I still was, but with Nathan I was also humbled. He looked at me not just like he wanted me, but like he revered me. Like he adored me. Like he respected me.
I didn’t know how to feel about that.
I didn’t want to feel anything about it.
I wanted to feel naughty and kinky instead, so I ignored the flip of my stomach and tugged at his tie, pulling him farther into the apartment.
It was hard to focus on much other than the amazing, attractive man in front of me, but I was aware enough to recognize he lived in a studio, big and open. I spotted his bed on the other side of the room. It looked far away.
Too far away.
Nathan seemed to be on the same page. He pulled me instead to a drafting table nearby. He swung the chair around and pushed me down into it. Then he began stripping off his jacket while I worked on his zipper, eager to have his cock out, desperate to touch him and feel him, and see more than just the very tip that I’d spied across the circle in the game earlier in the evening.
He wasn’t wearing any underwear either, and even after everything else, even naked, fresh off two orgasms, the knowledge that he’d been freeballing wound new tension inside me.
Then I got a good look at him—at all of him—and the excitement twining inside me doubled. He was magnificent. Thick. Long. Built like a stallion. He probably intimidated some women with his size.
I was about to be a very lucky girl.
I stroked my hand along his length, purring as I did. “I can’t believe you hid this,” I admonished. “This cock deserves to be sucked and licked and praised.”
“Made to be fucked?” he asked, bucking into my hands. “Made to get lost inside your pussy?”
I bit my lip. “Mm-hm.” It was the best I could do, the only sound I could utter. I was so desperate, so in want of him.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
I scrambled up to my knees and turned to brace my elbows on the drafting table, then looked back at him to see if I’d done what he’d meant. He was digging a condom from his wallet. I watched, riveted, as he unrolled it over his cock.
Then he stepped forward, still dressed in his tuxedo shirt, his tie now hanging loose and his pants around his ankles. He smacked my outer thigh, then lined himself up between my legs. His head slid along my damp slit a couple of times and then he nudged his crown into my pussy—just barely.
I pushed back, urging him to move forward. But he grabbed my hips, stilling me. “Hold on, gorgeous. You need to be ready for me.” But he said it with gritted teeth, and I didn’t know if it was really me he was preparing or himself.
After a minute that felt like a lifetime, he went deeper, steadily, so I could feel each new inch of him, and when he was all the way in, I could have sworn he was touching the inside of my belly button.
It was fucking amazing.
He fit tight inside me, but I clenched down around him, wanting to feel as full as I could. Wanting to grip him with every part of my pussy so that when he moved, I might feel him everywhere.
“Yes, baby. Just like that.” He moved his hips in a circle then began rocking in and out.
And fuck, I did feel him everywhere. Every bit of my insides experienced the massage of his cock.
I moved with him, inching back to meet him when he thrust forward, stretching away as he pulled out. Each move was ecstasy, a new exquisite friction with every stroke. It had been too long since I’d done this. Too long since I’d let a man put his cock inside me. I’d forgotten how incredible it was to feel the slap of flesh against my thighs and the hot pulse of an erection, so different from the toys and fingers that had invaded my pussy in the last year.
I reached down between my legs to rub my clit and moaned with pleasure. Then I reached further to where we were joined so I could feel him glide in and out.
“Do that again,” he ordered, his voice frayed. “Touch yourself. Then touch my cock as I fuck you.”
I did. He groaned. The sound throbbed through to where his body met mine.
“I’m going to come soon, Trish, baby,” he said. “You make yourself come first. I want to feel what it feels like to have you coming around me. And then I’m going to pull out and come on your ass.”
Fuck. That almost did it for me right there.
I worked my clit quickly, my insides getting tighter with each flick of my finger. I was almost there, almost to that place that I’d been so many times, but never got tired of going. That wonderful, euphoric orgasmic heaven. I imagined what it must look like to him—me bent over his drafting table, my ass in the air, his dick getting lost inside me. If I weren’t the one he was fucking, I would have wanted to watch. It had to look so erotic, so sexy, so goddamned filthy from the outside.
Imagining it sent me flying. “Oh my God oh my God oh my God.”
He spit out a string of praises about how beautiful I was, how tight I was when I came, how hard I made him, how he was going to paint me in his cum. Then he pulled out abruptly and barely a handful of seconds passed before I felt the hot, sticky flow of his cum seeping between my ass cheeks.
“You’re beautiful,” he commended in a low rumble. “A masterpiece.”
I pictured him staring at me like I was a piece of art, like I was one of the pieces that his team in Creative handed to him for approval, for his careful inspection.
It made me feel even more sexy and satiated. And something else. Beautiful. Like the kind of beautiful that belonged to itself. The kind of beautiful that no one tried to own.
Which was stupid, because we were just talking about his cum on my backside, and there wasn’t anything that made a guy feel like he owned a woman like when he’d jerked off on her.
But anyway, it was hot. And I liked that he thought it was hot too.
“Take a picture,” I suggested. Because that idea made me hot as well.
“Can I?” He didn’t disguise his excitement, and he was already digging out his phone from his abandoned tuxedo pants. I looked down to make sure he didn’t get my face in the shot. A moment later a flash lit up the room. Another one followed, and then he tossed his phone on the drafting table next to me.
“Take a look,” he said. “I’ll get something to clean you up while you do.”