A Perfect Ten (Forbidden Men 5)

And Oren lapped it up until I was an exhausted, panting mess under him. “Christ, woman. You’re fucking sensitive. Too sensitive. I was kind of hoping to feel you go off around me, let these sweet, tight walls here milk my cock while I thrust inside you.”

When he lightly circled the opening of my pussy, I gritted my teeth and bowed up, taut and ready again.

The movement of his finger slowed. “Holy shit. Are you...?” As if experimenting, he slid two fingers in me. I gasped and squeezed my thighs around his wrist. “Goddamn.” He sounded amazed. “You are ready again?”

“I... I...” I wasn’t sure. I was still riding the last orgasm he’d given me, but I also felt like a live wire. If his cock wasn’t in me within thirty seconds—

His fingers jerked free, and I cried out from the loss. “No.”

“Just...hold on. I’m...damn. Fuck. Where did I put the condom?”

“What?” I sobbed, nearly in tears. If he lost his condom, I was going to hurt him. No one had riled me up like this before. I was so turned on I felt like a hair trigger. Just one more touch and I could blow...again.

“Oh yeah. I had it on the table.” A split second later, arms were lifting me. I was carried a few feet to the table he’d bent me over before. He didn’t have to say anything this time; I just slumped over it and hiked my ass into the air, beyond ready.

The sound of his zipper lowering made me jerk. I had no idea even a sound could set things off. But when you were as turned on as I was, he could pro

bably exhale right about now, and I’d likely come. The rasp of tearing foil and the hiss of his breath as he rolled latex over his length made my thighs tremble. I bet he had his hand around himself right now. He had to be hard and pulsing, ready to enter me.

I swallowed, unable to believe this was happening. Oren was going to put his cock inside me.

“Ready?”

I shuddered, a full-body shiver from head to toe...toes that were already curling because they tingled so badly. “Okay,” I chanted, boosting and trying to calm myself from the anticipation, all in one word. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoed. He almost sounded as eager and nervous as I felt, which only synched me in with him more. So when he touched me there with the blunt head of his cock, I whimpered.

“Oh God. Please.”

The head entered me and I sucked in a breath, bowing my face as I soaked in the sensation. He slowly applied pressure, filling me and stretching my womb to accommodate himself. I felt every freaking centimeter.

“Holy...fuck,” he gritted out, gripping my waist hard enough that his fingers bit into my skin. “You’re so...damn...tight.” He blew out a breath as he seated himself completely, all of him in all of me.

I couldn’t remember ever feeling this full with Sander. Not that I was thinking about him, but he was my only other point of reference, and I had definitely never experienced this much stretching before. Oren felt so...I don’t know, huge, maybe. He was crammed in almost too tight, as if there was no room for anything else. All I could feel was him, and it was delicious and perfect and—

“Oh God!” I yelped as he shifted ever so slightly, hitting something that shot off a spasm that consumed me entirely. “Right there. Right there. You found it. Don’t move.” I wanted to freeze this moment in all eternity and memorize the feel of him lodged deep, filling me, and consuming me. I just needed a second to appreciate the wonder—

“Don’t move?” he yelped, repeating my instructions. “Are you insane? You can’t let a guy into pussy heaven and then tell him not to move.”

So, of course, he moved, sliding most of the way out, until I was gasping and clutching the table harder, pressing my forehead to the flat wooden surface. And then he shoved right back in.

“Oren,” I whimpered. Seated deep, he’d felt amazing. But moving and rubbing his cock against every nerve ending in my channel was pure torture, amazing, marvelous torture. Inner muscles were quivering and contracting out of control around him. None of my previous orgasms—not even the self-inflicted ones—had ever had such an extreme buildup.

Grabbing my hair—and not too gently—he thrust again and growled into my ear. “Stop...calling...me—”

But I was too busy coming to care what name I was shouting, so I just kept chanting, “Ohmigod, ohmigod, Orrrrrennnn.”

He cursed and pounded harder, pulling my hair snugger and growling out his own release as I pulsed around him, my nipples throbbing and core convulsing with every tug on my scalp.

It was the single greatest orgasm to ever claim me...and definitely the strangest. Who knew hair pulling would get me off like that?

After I finally stopped coming, Oren slumped onto me, making the small table wobble perilously under us. His damp chest stuck to my back and pushed my breasts forward, smashing them against the cool wood.

Panting in my ear, he sounded sapped of all energy. “Holy...fuck.”

“S-sorry, I...I called you Oren again,” I tried to say, though it was nearly impossible from the way he was squishing out any air that might’ve circulated through my lungs.

He hissed out an amused sound. “I didn’t mind it so much that time.”