“I want this,” she says, rocking back against me until her pussy is right there against the head of my cock.
I bite back a groan even as I wrap my hands around her hips and hold her in place. “Ian, please,” she gasps as she strains against my hold.
I don’t let go, though, not yet. Not when she’s spread out so beautifully in front of me, her gorgeous sex on full display. I grab her ass cheeks, pull them apart so I can see everything—everything—and I stare at her for long seconds, transfixed by how pink and wet and perfect she is. Then, when I can’t resist for one second longer, I bend over and lick her from her clit to her anus.
She screams, her whole body jolting against my hands. But she doesn’t let go of the table, doesn’t try to take anything more than what I want to give her. Her surrender—her submission—strikes a chord deep inside of me, one I didn’t even know was there. And then I’m burying my face in her sex, licking and biting and sucking her to a fourth orgasm.
She comes crying out my name, begging me to fuck her, and that’s when I give in. When I line my cock up against her cunt and bury myself balls deep inside her with one powerful thrust.
She gasps, clamps around me like a greedy fist. She’s slick and wet and hot, so hot that I nearly come right then with the pleasure—and the insanity—of finally being a part of her. I grit my teeth against my need, fight the sensations gathering at the base of my spine as I fight to hold onto the ragged edges of my control.
I want to make her come one more time, want to feel her clenching on my cock as ecstasy slams through her. But she’s whimpering, crying out, her hips slapping back against mine of their own volition and I know I don’t have long before I lose it completely.
But before I do, I want to see her face, want to see those crazy violet eyes of hers and know that she means it. Know that she still wants this as much as I do.
Her eyes are wide, the pupils blown out—fucked out—and for the first time since I met her, she’s not wearing a mask. She’s not hiding who she is. The woman I’m looking at now, the woman I’m fucking like my life depends on it, is the real Veronica Romero.
The thought gets to me like nothing else could have and I slip my free hand beneath her to stroke her clit as I ride her hard. And still I don’t let go of her hair, still I force her to look at me.
To stay open to me.
To stay right here with me the whole time.
Over and over I thrust into the satin heat of her, over and over as I listen to the crazy little sounds she makes as she closes around me. I’m burning up, my whole body a live wire just waiting to go up in flames as pleasure consumes me, overwhelms me.
I need to come so badly that I’m shaking with it, but I need this connection to Veronica more. Need to keep fucking her until she breaks wide open and shows me not just who she is but what’s inside her.
It’s hard, though, so hard, when she feels this good. When she’s staring at me with passion-drenched eyes and whimpering my name with each slam of my hips against her own.
Sweat is beading on my chest, rolling down my neck, my back, and still I don’t stop. My muscles burn, my cock screams for release, and still I don’t let go. Still I thrust into her over and over again, trying to get as deep inside of her as I can.
She’s whimpering now, calling my name time and time again as her muscles contract more and more tightly around me. Her skin is flushed, her body burning up, her hands clutching the table so hard that her knuckles are white and still I don’t let go. Still I keep pounding into her, pounding away at the walls she keeps between herself and the world.
But then she rears up, twisting her upper body into an impossible position as she sinks her teeth into my pec, hard. It’s the last straw, the last bit of pleasure-pain my system can take before going into total and complete overload.
I’m buried balls deep, as far inside of her as I can get, when I feel the orgasm tear through her—a deep, arcing wave of sensation so powerful that it swamps me, buries me, drags me under before I can even think about resisting. And then I’m there with her, my own climax slamming through me like a tsunami as the sweet clutch of her body sends me over the edge and beyond, to a place where nothing exists but this. But her.
It starts at the base of my spine and spreads out from there—through my dick, my stomach, up my chest and around to my back and shoulders. Pleasure, pain, passion racing through me, through her, flowing between us as she screams my name and I empty myself inside of her in a series of long pulses that give her more of myself—and take more of her—than I ever intended.
Chapter 8
When it’s over, when he’s slumped over me catching his breath and I’m slumped against the table doing pretty much the same thing, there’s only one thought in my brain. Only one thing that keeps running through my head.