The heel dropped to the floor with a soft thud. I looked down, past the V of my legs, at the naked man before me, a hand settling on the outward jut of his cock, wrapping around its base, stroking it as he stared at me, met my eyes, for one silent moment. Salty air swept over my skin, my legs still spread, fingers of coolness softly brushing over my open slit. I was so wet I could feel a drop sliding down the crack of my ass.
“This. What I’m about to do. Is it what you want?”
“Yes.” I didn’t need to hesitate before speaking the words. I didn’t need to think, to analyze. I threw reason and safety and good decisions out the window as soon as I walked through the door to this suite. I traded logic for a touch that I desperately craved, a connection that was dropping that perfect cock and moving to my other foot. Working the straps to that heel. Fingers teasing the arch and ankle there.
The heel came off in his hand, and he tossed it away. Gripped my ankle, moved his knees on the bed, until he was before me, his cock placed against the wet mound. His hands on my inner thighs, delicate movements that were turning rougher, stronger. He pressed on the back of my knees, lifted my legs until my thighs brushed my stomach, shoved forward with his hips, and dragged his hardness back and forth over my clit.
I whimpered. I couldn’t help myself. I could feel the loss of control, feel the breakdown of my mind as pleasure took over and I became a loose mess of want before him. I was so close to begging, needed his cock an inch lower so badly I was two steps away from taking that matter into my own hands. “Please.” The word slipped from my lips as he continued, the underside of his cock now slick with my juices, the steady drag on my clit so perfect that my plea was suddenly counterproductive seeing as the only thing I wanted to do right then was stay in the moment until I broke.
Shove, pull. Shove, pull. I propped myself up to get a better look, the eroticism of seeing his bare cock, head and shaft tight to the point of ripping, the muscles in his stomach sliding under the tan skin, the evidence of my arousal, my need growing. His skin in the moonlight, reflections of white in his eyes, the groan from his mouth that told me his self-control was as stretched as my own.
I didn’t want to come like this. From just the rub of his cock. How tightly stretched was my arousal that just this brush with him could bring me to my knees? I pushed against his chest, squirmed underneath him. “Please, I can’t. I’m about to...”
“I need it.” His gruff voice was close to my ear. The consistent firm strokes continued, the pump of his cock back and forth, back and ... OH MY.
I stopped it somehow. Gasped for breath. Tried to focus. Tried to fight a battle I was seconds from losing. I didn’t know why I was fighting it. How I was managing. All I knew was that every second was incredible, and I didn’t want to lose it—couldn’t lose it. Not right now. Not just yet. I needed another ten seconds, or fifty, or five hundred. I needed this man to never stop anything he was doing, to—
My elbows gave out and I collapsed, my back bucking, every muscle in my legs contracting as the purest form of ecstasy blinded my world, gripped my heart, and shuddered through my body.
***
A metallic scrape. The rip, crackle. I saw a bit of gold flutter to the scrunched fabric of the white duvet. Moving my eyes to between my legs, I saw the hot brand of his cock lift, busy in his hands, wrapped and secured, then his hands stilled, and I pulled my eyes up, over his stomach, which moved slightly with heavy breaths. Up over the strength of his chest, the defined muscles in his shoulders, the shadow on his face, the swollen curve of his lips. His eyes, blazing with intensity, watched me carefully as he growled out a sigh. I didn’t move, didn’t pull my eyes from him, but felt the weight of latexed cock against my sensitive clit as he leaned forward slightly, a finger surprising me when he pressed it through the seal of my *.
A moan sighed through my lips at the change in his eyes that occurred, the drug of arousal moving through them, dulling his spark, his mouth opening further. He closed his eyes for a moment, his finger moving slowly and deliciously inside of me, and then reopened, control reestablished. I didn’t want his control. I wanted him ravaging me, taking me harder, rougher, his strength untapped, sexuality grabbing hold and dragging him by his lapels to the throne of me, where he would forever be my sexual slave.
“Are you sure?”
I groaned in response, his finger cupping, stroking. My core so wet I was shaking for him.
“Answer me. I need to hear it.” His voice was rough. Control shaken. Good.
I opened my eyes and reestablished contact. Let him see the resolution there. “Yes. Please. Now.”
He leaned forward, braced himself above me on the bed, his face a foot from mine, my vision filled with the beautiful look of Brett, and shifted his hips down slightly and thrust.
Mother of—I whimpered, reached up and gripped his shoulders, pulled him closer as my mouth opened in silent exclamation. It had been too long. I couldn’t go without it for that long ever again. On second thought, maybe the reason this felt so incredible was because I had been without. But either way, the stretch of my muscles around his cock ... the heat inside me as he slowly thrust, in and out, back and forth, my silent cries turning a little louder, becoming words, moans, begs, pleas. “Don’t ever stop ... Brett—I...”
He gave it to me slow. Let me adjust before his speed picked up, thrusts roughening right at the moment when I was ready for it. I wrapped my legs around his waist. Dug my heels into the lickable meat of his ass. Squeezed the heat of his skin with my legs, stared up into his face as he buried his cock in repeated succession, the quickened pace containing an edge of desperation, of wild inhibition.
“Right there, I’m about to...”
I bellowed, the howl of a woman overtaken, and he groaned at the sound, lowered his face to my neck, inhaled my scent as my voice broke. I lost all focus, all ability to understand anything but that he hadn’t stopped, hadn’t slowed, was carrying me on this high which would not stop until it took hold of my soul and made me his own.
He pulled me back to life, gripped my face with both hands, lowering his face to mine, and dove into my mouth. Kissed me strong. Ragged breaths between deep kisses, his cock continued its steady thrust, my hands greedy against his chest, scraping across the ridges of his side, scratching lines of need into his back. Then he broke the kiss, his hands tightening a little on my face, our eyes holding until a groan dragged from his throat, his eyes closing, head dropping, thrusts slowing and deepening, until he was buried and still inside of me. His hands dropped my face, my name rolled off his lips as he eased down, his body flush to mine, and it felt, in that moment, like we were fused—souls, bodies, and mind—completely together.