“You are?” she asked, her voice sounding farther away. I opened my eyes a fraction. She sat cross-legged, her elbows on her knees, looking at me from the middle of the bed.
I groaned. She was going to be the death of me. Her still-wet pussy faced me, her dusky pink nipples jutting out as if desperate for touch.
I fiddled with the fastening of my pants. I needed to get naked. Now.
“You want me to help you with that?” she asked, as if I were unloading the trunk of a car.
I glanced at her. The glint in her eye told me she was clearly teasing me.
“If you don’t behave, I’ll bend you over my knee.” I couldn’t look at her, but managed to slide off my trousers despite the mental image of her ass in the air, red from my palm. Removing my clothes had calmed my cock. Slightly. For now.
I stripped off my shirt and boxers, sighing as I stuck my hands behind my head. I was ready for round two.
I caught her staring at my dick. “Like what you see?” I asked.
She tilted her head toward my face, her eyes following as if she couldn’t bear to turn away from my erection. I almost grabbed her right then and pulled her onto me, but I wanted to make this last.
“Well, I know what it can do, so yeah, I like what I see.” And there it was—that complete honesty. It wasn’t something she said because she thought it was the right thing to say. It was what she believed, what she felt.
I chuckled. “Come show me how much,” I said. “Straddle me.” I wanted an uninterrupted view of those tits as I fucked her.
She crawled slowly toward me, her breasts swaying as she moved. Christ she was beautiful—like a more intense and perfect version of every woman I’d ever fucked. Was it because I knew her a little now? Was it because I liked the open, fresh woman she was?
“You’re bossy,” she said as her palms flattened against my abdomen and she settled atop me.
“You like it,” I replied.
Her shiver in response was all the confirmation I needed. She liked to be told what to do. Maybe not outside of the bedroom, maybe not even outside of the two of us. But she liked me telling her what to do in bed.
And I liked that.
I grabbed her hips and pulled her toward me until she slid over my cock, her wetness coating me. She tilted forward and pushed her hips back, her clit connecting with my root.
Her head fell forward, her long hair skirting my body. She moaned and swiveled her hips. Pressing her clit to my cock. I let her rub herself against me, let her think she was in charge for a few moments before I tightened my grip. “I want inside you,” I whispered.
She paused and then nodded. Did she have to think about it? I reached for my wallet on the bed stand and pulled out a condom. She watched as I slid it onto my cock, which jerked under her greedy gaze.
“Be gentle,” she whispered. “I want it to last.”
“You do it,” I replied, happy for her to take charge for a bit.
I wanted to shove my way inside her tight, wet heat and fuck her without mercy. I didn’t want to hurt her, and I definitely wanted her to enjoy it. But more than anything I wanted her to come. Hard.
I released her hips and fisted my hands at my side as she took a hold of my dick, her small fingers wrapping around it tightly, like she might drop it. She placed the tip at her entrance and sighed. It was as if it was what she’d been waiting for, and now she’d got it, she could relax. I liked the idea that she’d been waiting for my cock.
She squeezed my tip with her muscles and I had to stop myself from thrusting off the bed, slamming into her. She panted as she lowered herself a little, squeezing her eyes shut. “So big,” she muttered.
She let out a half breath and then began to move in small, sharp shifts.
The sight of her parted mouth, her bouncing breasts, her flexing thighs—heaven.
She sank lower and the pressure of her muscles surrounding me was just perfect. I almost blacked out—overdosing on pleasure. If drugs felt this good, I’d be an addict.
“Ryder,” she said, panting.
I’d been lost in her until then, watching every part of her except her eyes. She looked panicked. Why?
“It’s too much.” She placed my hands on her hips and it took a second or two for me to connect the dots. She wanted me to fuck her, didn’t want to be the one in control.
I clenched my fingers into her flesh and brought her down fully onto me. She whimpered. “Yes,” she whispered. “More.”
Jesus, it took everything I had not to explode.
I sat up and flipped her over. “I’ll give you more,” I said. At that moment I didn’t care if she screamed the house to the ground. I was about to overflow at the feel of her, at the sight, sound, touch of her. And I wanted her to be where I was. “I’m going to give you everything.”
I thrust up and she squealed and bent her legs, taking me deeper until I couldn’t get any further inside her. I pulled out and pushed again in long, slow strokes, dipping my head to her shoulder and sucking up a mark on her neck that tasted of tangerine and heat.
My glutes spasmed as I pushed into her, forcing her legs wide. She slid up the bed and I hooked my hand over her shoulders to keep her in place.
“Like that? Like it when I fuck you good and hard?” The words came out sharp as she moaned in response. She loved it.
It was as if she hadn’t had this before—like it was all new and fascinating to her—what I could do, how her body responded.
She grabbed my neck, her fingers curling around the nape. “I like how you like it,” she choked out. “How you like fucking me.”
She’d summed up exactly what made it so good. We were two opposite sides of the same coin, enjoying how we made each other feel—each relishing the pleasure of the other—it heightened every move we made.
“I do, I rejoice in fucking you, in making you come.”
She stiffened and gasped then scrambled for a pillow, brought it over her face and screamed into it as she climaxed.
I didn’t care about the noise. Not anymore. My grandfather was on the other side of the house, my sister had heard worse, and I didn’t give a shit about the staff. I was fucking my fiancée. So what? I pulled the pillow from her face and sped up my rhythm. Pushing against her pulsating muscles, chasing my release.
My orgasm was seconds away, carried from her to me. I came in sharp, desperate strokes, groaning out loud.
I collapsed on top of her, every last bit of energy drained from me.
Absentmindedly, she wound the hair at the back of my neck around her index finger. It was such a small thing, but so intimate I almost couldn’t bear it.
I pressed my lips to just behind her ear to interrupt her touch. I couldn’t move to do more even if I wanted to.
“I think we were loud,” she said once my breathing had slowed. I rolled off her to my back, laying one of my legs over hers, somehow wanting to keep touching her but having had no practice in postcoital cuddling.
“I don’t give a shit,” I replied, turning my head as she put her hands over her face.