He holds nothing back in the music of his hips, crashing into mine almost hard enough to bruise.
We’re rock and roll and heavy metal. The dirtiest country and the sweetest hip hop. We’re the scream of a guitar that’s pure sex and the thud of drumming hearts.
You’d better believe he makes me sing my effing heart out like never, ever before.
Because the instant I go crashing over into my first O, tensing, my pussy clinging to his shaking thrusts for dear life, there’s nothing but our song made flesh.
Just Blake’s massive body slamming into mine, the steady clap of his balls on my skin, his friction tearing sounds out of me I didn’t even know I could make.
And he buries his mouth against mine, stealing my breath, lifting his hips higher to throw his cock into me harder, faster, deeper.
My whimpering release just folds me that much tighter to his piston of a body and drives him on.
If I thought he’d lose it and come with me—ha!
That’s so not the way this works.
That’s so not how this man operates. I realize it a little more in every stroke.
Blake might be off his chain, but he’s in scary control. And he’s not letting go until he’s had his way with me however freaking long he pleases.
So his hips power on, the thrusts coming wilder, his hips jerking and shuddering in sharp staccato, surging us along in rough thrusts that sizzle, rip me apart, stretch me open, fill me more and more until I’m screaming, begging, and still it’s not enough.
Never enough.
More, more—I want more.
I’ll always want more, and with his name on my lips, I wrap my thighs around his hips and pull him into me, lifting my hips to beg for every inch he can give.
And sweet Lord, does he give.
He storms my body straight into another frantic, screaming release. I feel it coming, tensing up, my arms and legs desperately tangling with his body, enjoying our sway, and then—
Coming!
My eyelids flutter and white-hot ecstasy erupts from my core, blooming through every bit of me like some insane flower of pure energy. I barely even hear the rising pitch in his growl, even if it’s impossible not to feel the sudden harsh swell of his cock.
As he slides home, as he finds the darkest, neediest depths of me, as he touches me inside with invasive heat and closeness and sheer, raw, erotic pleasure…
I can’t detect the difference between his heartbeat and mine.
There’s just his body flowing over mine, and I move with him, and every deep stroke bursts something deep inside me as he grabs my wrists, slams me into the bed, and pushes his forehead into mine.
“Don’t you fucking stop,” he growls. “Gonna go with you, baby.”
And he does.
Even through the condom, I feel when his cock roots itself in my depths and explodes in a hot flood that leaves him stiff and twitching. And if I thought my orgasm was done, I was dead wrong.
It hits me full force the instant Blake goes off inside me.
He vibrates through me, ignites my bones, makes my body shriek with the pounding, driving, mad push to a crescendo. We share every second of our bliss.
I don’t know if I’m singing or screaming.
But I know when we break higher, when his roar drowns me out, when I hit the zone where he’s already waiting.
Moving in harmony, peaking in perfect time together.
His body with mine.
And my heart with his, even if he doesn’t know just how deep these feelings run.
* * *
Wowza.
I don’t think I’ve ever had sex like that in my life.
Sex before Blake was meat and potatoes.
Clumsy college fumblings.
Tantric gurus with bad hair at Burning Man.
Stoner musicians who fell asleep halfway in the middle.
I mean, I’ve had some good nights, but nothing like…this otherworldly, uncontrolled burn I can’t even put into words.
Now there’s just my life before sex with Mr. Silver Tongue, and life after.
All that, and then some.
There’s nothing like being completely taken and possessed by a man who knows exactly what he’s doing, and does it so intently focused on you and only you.
I feel wrung out in all the best ways.
Massage is a great release, sure.
But it can’t even compare to the hot thrill of an amazing orgasm or six. I let out a soft, sighing sound of pleasure as I nestle myself against Blake’s overheated, sweat-slick body, slipping a hand across his chest to toy with the dark bristles of hair.
“You okay?” I murmur, rubbing my cheek to his shoulder. “That didn’t hurt your thigh?”
He lets out a chuckle that’s half growl, the arm around my shoulders tightening. “Woman, I’d have stopped if something was wrong. You don’t need to give the old man his health checks.”
“You’re not old.” I prop my chin on his chest so I can look at him and the lazy, sated expression on his face “I think sometimes you forget that.”