A groan rumbled in my chest and her breath came out in pants, but that didn’t slow either of us. Time versus pleasure was a race, the culmination of both right on the edge with no chance of stopping. I wanted her more than I wanted to breathe, and when she threw her head back, let go of my shoulders, and ripped her shirt over her head, she confirmed I wasn’t the only one.
“Suck on them,” she ordered, thrusting her tits in my face and reaching behind her back to unhook her bra.
With my hands at her lower back to hold her steady, I didn’t delay or disappoint, pulling one cup down with my teeth before she could find the clasp.
Little nibbles and sucking kisses, I tortured every inch of skin, burrowing my face in the bottom swell and biting it enough to make a mark.
She yelped slightly, but it morphed into a moan as she pulled the scrap of fabric down her arms in between us and threw it to the floor of my bedroom.
With my back to the bed, I fell to my ass, unwilling to abandon our current position or circumstances. Her knees sank naturally into the mattress at my sides, and the newfound freedom of my hands made me test the weight of her perfect tits in each one.
“God, Kline,” she whimpered. “They ache.” She let out two short pants as my tongue swirled the tip and sucked it deep into the warmth of my mouth. “I ache.”
“Make it better, Georgie,” I dared after releasing her pink nipple with a pop.
Always up for a challenge, she didn’t hesitate, backing off of my lap in an instant and unbuckling the belt at my waist. Her tongue flashed out and tasted her own lips as she did, heady arousal running so hot in her blood that she couldn’t stop. I nearly lost my fucking mind.
Belt undone, she made quick work of the button and zipper and shoved her hands inside before I could make a move to reciprocate with her skirt.
Jesus Christ.
The feel of her hand diving in to grab my dick without remorse or hesitation nearly made me come in my pants.
“Georgia,” I whispered, and her bright, fiery eyes jumped to mine with desperation.
She’d been pouring all of her angst and uncertainty from the meeting into this—into us—and I didn’t mind. But at the same time, I wanted her to feel what was coming from me. My jealousy, my rage—sure—but mostly my fucking disgust at listening to someone treat her like anything less than the smart, beautiful, goddamn goddess of a woman she was.
“Come on, baby. Climb on. Fuck me until it only hurts good.”
She finally shucked her skirt and I did the same with my pants, toeing off my shoes in the process. She didn’t bother, keeping her heels on her feet and climbing on top of me again.
I reached to grab a condom from my pants, but she slid down on my dick before my fingers even met the fabric.
“Fuuuuuck.”
“Oh yeah,” she agreed, emphatic. “I’m going to.”
“Condom,” I reminded her, grabbing her hips to slow her already building speed.
She just shook her head with a smile, a halfway distant look in her eyes suggesting she didn’t even understand what the fuck she was doing.
If I thought for even a second there was a chance I’d hurt her in some way or give her some kind of a disease by taking her without a condom, I would have stopped her.
But I knew for a fact I wouldn’t, and if there were other consequences, like an unplanned pregnancy, I’d literally run myself ragged to make it worth it for all of us.
Because good God, I did not want to interrupt or ruin this show.
I eased my grip on her hips just enough that she could move freely and she took advantage.
She found her rhythm quickly, her tits swinging deliciously and the plump cheeks of her ass cradling my thighs and balls with every stroke down.
Her hair fell down and around her face, and her breath came out in staccato pants. I’d never seen a woman take hold of her pleasure so thoroughly. She squeezed me internally with every stroke, touched the skin on my chest like she couldn’t get enough—connected—and yet, she worked me with the focus of someone doing nothing but chasing their own pleasure.
A smile swallowed my face as her * did the same to my cock. Up and down she went, her thighs shaking more and more with each stroke.
“That’s it, sweetheart.”
She was getting close now, and her fingernails were digging half-moons into the skin at my chest. I grabbed a handful of flesh at the sides of her hips and held on, saddling up and getting ready for what was to come.
When a moan exploded from her chest, I lost any pretense of control. A clap of sound cracked the heavy, sex-filled air as I reddened the skin of her ass with one hand and plucked at one of her perfect nipples with the other.
“Ride that cock, Georgia.”
Her * clenched.
Fuck yes.
“Make it yours,” I demanded, pushing her to take it to the next level. With an ab curl, my mouth lunged for her untortured nipple and sucked it with a pop. Her * grabbed me again, and this time was slow to let go. “Fuckkkkk. God, this cunt. It’s gonna make me yours for fucking ever.”
And it was. That and her mind and her single-minded determination to redefine herself—to redefine her evening’s decisions—in one dominating ride on my cock.
If this was how we fought, I’d fight with her forever.