Sinful Longing

Obeying, she slammed her palms against the marble counter.

“Look at me in the mirror,” he said, and she met his gaze in the reflection as he yanked her jeans down her legs. “These jeans are so fucking tight,” he muttered as he kneeled, tugging them to her knees, then just below. He stood back up, and tapped her ankle with his foot. “Spread wider.”

She obliged as he unzipped his own jeans and rolled on a condom.

She bent her back and lifted her ass, and he smacked it once with his palm. “Can’t resist,” he said playfully. “Too tempting.”

“Don’t resist.”

“Never,” he said, and slid the head of his dick against her heat. “So wet. Did I do all this to you?” he asked, as if he didn’t know the answer.

“I’m pretty sure this is the eighty-seventh pair of panties you’ve melted right off me,” she said with a sexy glint as he rubbed himself against her. His dick was pointing its way home, begging to be deep in her, but oh, did he love just savoring the slickness before he sank inside. He fucking loved coating his dick in her slippery heat before he felt her clench around him.

“Eighty-seventh? That’s it? I need to work harder.”

“Speaking of hard—”

Her words were silenced as he buried himself in her. “Oh fuck, Elle,” he said on a groan, as he savored that intense moment when he was first inside the woman he craved. He picked up the pace, meeting her eyes in the mirror. Her amber eyes were glossy and full of lust, and her cheeks were rosy from the glow of her first orgasm. “I love looking at you as I make you come. I want to watch you fall apart again as I fuck you,” he said, low and husky in her ear.

“I want that too. So badly.”

Setting a fevered rhythm, the second hand ticking in their ears, he stroked into her. She moaned on each thrust, panting as he filled her. “You tasted so damn good on my fingers,” he said huskily. “I can’t wait to have you. When I do, I’m going to show you exactly why you came so many times alone at night thinking of me.”

“I did, Colin. I did,” she said, swiveling her hips as he pumped into her. “I thought about fucking your face all the time.”

Oh hell. Those words were like a straight shot of lust through his bloodstream. They set him on fire. They flipped switches all over. He groaned deeply. “I bet you were saying all sorts of filthy things to me in your head. I bet as you fucked yourself alone in bed you were saying Oh Colin, fuck me with your tongue. I want to ride your face. Did you say that?”

Her body answered with an epic shudder, a wild tightening against his dick, which was so damn hard inside her. Her slick walls gripped him as he slammed in and out of her, pulling back so only the tip was in her. He paused momentarily, then whispered in a low, dirty growl in her ear, “Colin, I’m going to come all over your face. I’m going to come so fucking hard on your face,” he said to her, and her eyes glazed over, and her body trembled, and everything, everything, everything in her reaction told him he was not only right, but she was there, finding her way to a second coming. He let go of her hip, and glided his finger across her clit. “Say it,” he commanded, as he fucked her deep and rubbed her clit.

“I’m going to come so fucking hard,” she said, her voice falling to pieces as she came on him. She started to cry out in ecstasy, but he clamped his palm over her mouth. He fucked her furiously, holding in all her screams, keeping her quiet as his balls tightened and his own orgasm tore through his body, consuming him like a torrential storm ripping across the coastline.

He cursed as he came hard.

He wanted to collapse onto her, to wrap his arms around her and just exist in this sated, blissful state. He looped his hands around her sexy waist, holding her close. He brushed his lips against her collarbone, and she shivered then flashed him a small smile.

“Attention, the doors are closing in two minutes. Thank you for visiting the mob museum. Bugsey is not alone tonight. We have just received word that Al Capone is haunting the premises.”

“Al Capone!” Elle said in a stage whisper. “Oh no!”

Quickly, Colin pulled out and disposed of the condom. They straightened up, and a minute later, walked to the exit, thanking the ticket taker and the security guard who locked the door behind them.

On the front steps of the museum, Elle grabbed his hand. “Let’s play some poker, Colin Scotty Sloan.”

He wished he didn’t like it so much when she kept her fingers locked through his as they spent the next hour wandering through Fremont Street, playing slots, then a round at the five dollar tables.