Лорен Блэйкли - Big Rock

I need to drink this woman in. I need to be coated in her. I want her wetness covering my stubbled chin, my jaw, my face. I want this slick heat on my goddamn nose.

Using my fingers, I spread her open and lick across her slick folds. She moans in pleasure. “Oh God.”

That’s all she says for the next few minutes as I consume her sinfully sweet pussy, learning how she likes it. She rocks into me, her hips rolling with a wildness that mirrors the staccato speed of her erratic breathing. As I slip my tongue inside her, she digs her nails into my shoulders. As I return my mouth to her clit, she bucks against me. As I slide one finger inside her tight walls, she sings.

She fucking sings.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God.”

She’s said little else the entire time, and it’s awesome. I love her inability to form words. I love that she can’t talk while she’s in heaven from my tongue, and she can only manage moans.

She hits the highest note I’ve ever heard, and she fucks my face in a frenzy. Her hands shoot up from my shoulders to grip my skull, and she rides my face while I lap up every last ounce of her sweetness as she comes in my mouth.

She tastes better than she did in the shower.

Better than my fantasies.

She’s all real, and her orgasm is spread on my lips and all over my chin.

I am so fucking happy and so incredibly horny.

I stand, and loop one arm behind her head. She’s shaking. Trembling everywhere.

Then I tell her the thing I couldn’t say last night in the cab.

“God, I want to fuck you so fucking badly right now.”

She answers me with the three best words a man can ever hear. “I want you.” Wait. I counted wrong. Five best words, because she adds two more. “I want you so much.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I scoop up her warm, pliant body, and carry her to the table in my dining room. Trust me, this is not a spur-of-the-moment decision.

I’ve cycled through all the possible positions and chosen this one.

Missionary—though fantastic—is not going to blow her mind for our opening night. Nor can she be on top, because I need to be in control. And no way am I fucking her from behind or on all fours the first time I sink into her. I want to see her face as I fuck her. I want to watch her lips part as she flies over the cliff, and I want to see her eyes as she comes undone.

I set her bare ass gently on the edge of the wood, and her eyes widen as realization dawns on her. For a second, I want to ask if she and Bradley ever made it out of the bedroom, but the impulse fades as quickly as it appeared, because I don’t care. She’s mine right now, and he will never ever get his hands on this beautiful, amazing woman again. He messed it up, and I get to have her.

“Stay here,” I tell her sharply, as I walk back to the coffee table to grab the condom.

“I wasn’t actually planning on going anywhere,” she says in a monotone, and I smile, loving that her dry humor is never far away.

When I return, I unbutton my jeans, unzip them, push them down my legs, then kick them off. In a second, those busy hands of hers are on me, tugging off my boxer briefs as she nibbles on the corner of her lip.

When she frees my cock, it salutes her. Her eyes don’t just widen. They turn to moons. “Holy shit,” she murmurs and clasps a hand over her mouth.

I laugh lightly then peel her fingers from her lips. “Yes, it’ll fit,” I say, answering the question I know is on the tip of her tongue.

“How did you know I was going to ask that?”

I don’t answer her. Instead, I ask another question as I set the condom wrapper next to her on the table. “Want to know why I say that?”

“Why?”

I drag my fingers along her slippery heat. “Because you’re so wet, I’ll slide inside you nice and easy.” Then I reach for her hand. “Now, touch my cock.”

She draws an excited breath and wraps her hand around my shaft, and I groan with decadent pleasure. She runs her hand up and down my dick, and her touch ignites me. My whole body combusts as she strokes my cock. Every inch of me is ablaze with so much want. I stand between her legs, and she’s perched on the edge of my table, naked and already glowing from her first orgasm, and this moment is about as fucking perfect as a moment can be.

She plays with me for another minute, her nimble fingers exploring my shaft. A rumble works its way up my chest from the soft, delicious friction of her hands. When she spreads a bead of liquid over the head of my dick, I can’t take it any longer.

“Need to be inside you,” I say, and I run my hands along her thighs, spreading her legs wider for me. Reaching for the condom, I gently tear open the wrapper and slide it on.

With my hips, I nudge her legs more open, and slide the head against her wetness. Her eyes roll back, and she rocks against me, seeking me out.

I loop my fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her head. “Put it in,” I tell her, in a rough voice that leaves no room for argument.

Wrapping her hand around the base, she rubs the tip of my dick against her pussy, then slides it inside, inch by inch. I let her lead. Let her take me as she can. At one point, she inhales sharply.

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

She shakes her head, lets go of my dick, and wraps her arms around my neck. “No. It feels so good.”

That’s my cue. I ease in the rest of the way, and then still myself when I’m inside her.

Because…hell.

Heaven.

Bliss.

This is it.

Me. Right now. This moment in time.

Her wet heat is intense. Everything, everything, everything about this feels so incredibly good.

Her fingers thread their way into my hair. I clasp her hips and start to move, giving her time to adjust. I watch her expression, the concentration in her brown eyes as she gets used to me. I follow her cues, giving slow, lingering thrusts, until she relaxes completely, letting me fill her. Her knees fall open, her mouth softens, and she nods.

Finally she locks her gaze to mine and whispers, “Fuck me.”

Two words that light up every inch of my skin.

As I fuck her, she fucks me back. I sink deeper inside and she matches me, rising up to meet me. We set a rhythm, and we are more than in synch. We mesh.

I try to take in every sensation of our first time. The flush that darkens the skin of her chest. The scent of vanilla lotion on her shoulders. Her noises, like a woman unleashed.

Her lips are swollen and parted, and they’re begging to be kissed. I dip my head to her mouth, capturing her lips as I thrust into her. We kiss—rough, hard, sloppy, mixed with sighs that tell me she’s in another world, but that world is right here with me.

I slide my hands under her thighs, and she raises her legs up higher.

“Wrap them around me,” I tell her.

She hooks her ankles around my back. “Like that?”

“Just like that,” I repeat, then close my eyes as the pressure becomes almost too much. My quads tighten, and I can only imagine how incredible it will be to come inside her. But I stave it off as she rocks up into me.

I drive harder and deeper, hitting some spot within her that trips a switch. She gasps, shuddering. She tugs me tighter with her crossed ankles, and this is it. This is how I will take her to the edge, all tight and snug around me. Beneath me. Under me. She writhes and bucks, and she starts to lose control.

“Oh God, oh God,” she moans, and her noises turn feral, echoing in my ears.

Her body is like water, like fire. She is all the elements, all woman, all vulnerable, soft, strong femininity.

She cries out—a long, low, endless, gorgeous cry. She raises her face to me, clutching her hands around my neck, hunting, and searching. In a flurry, her lips are on my ear, and she whispers, as if I needed the corroboration, “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming.”