Caridad Piñeiro - Night of the Cougar

He rose up then, positioning the head of his erection at her entrance. His thumb rode her clit, keeping up the pressure that had her on the edge. His gaze connected with hers, which had deepened to an almost sapphire-blue. With his free hand, he reached up and cradled her cheek. She moved her head, nipped at his thumb before sucking it into her mouth.

God, he nearly came from that lick, but reined himself in enough to slowly push forward into the tight canal of her vagina until he was fully sheathed in her. He held still then, allowing her to acclimate to him. Allowing himself to relish the warm, tight wetness of her.

Jamie held her breath at his complete penetration, unprepared for the feel of so much man inside her. Above her. Around her. There was no getting away from the feel, smell and taste of Galen, she thought, and licked his thumb again, sampling the saltiness of his skin and the taste of her from his earlier caresses.

“You feel…amazing,” he said, rotating his thumb against her clit. Her muscles clenched around him in response, dragging his eyes shut with the sensation of it.

She reached up, skipped her hand from his shoulder down to his chest. She saw it then, just beneath one armpit, the star-shaped scar from the bullet that had nearly taken his life. Covering it with her hand, she whispered, “Never be sorry you’re alive, Galen.”

He tensed at her words and slowly opened his eyes. His pupils had gone nearly black with emotion, and she worried she had pushed too far, but then a tremor worked across his body, almost like a physical release of what he had been feeling.

He finally moved then, drawing back with that magnificent cock before driving forward again, his motions controlled and deliberate.

She accepted each thrust, which sent her rising higher and higher toward a release. She urged him on by roaming her hands all across his body, which seemed to give him great pleasure. Almost as if it had been way too long since he’d been touched. That thought hit her more powerfully than the passion he was rousing.

Grabbing hold of his shoulders, she raised herself up and kissed his temple. Then his cheek. The shell of his ear. Her kisses like benediction—until she reached his mouth.

His lips were firmed into a tight line as he strove to please her. She dropped kiss after kiss along the edges of his mouth until he finally opened to her and accepted the slide of her tongue.

She kissed him over and over, dancing her tongue along his. Rolling her hips to embrace his possession, pushing him even deeper. Pressing her breasts into him to tease the hard wall of his chest.

“God, Jamie. You feel incredible,” he said, but she could sense him holding back.

“Come with me, Galen. Come with me,” she pleaded.

With a groan and a last grind of his hips, he came and took her over the edge with him.

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