Thoroughly Whipped

The ding of the elevator sounded, but Harry didn’t stop kissing me. Instead, he picked me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. My eyes were closed as he guided us through the apartment. I didn’t even see what it looked like; I was too busy undoing the buttons of his shirt. One by one, they opened and my hands brushed against his hard-muscled chest. Harry rolled up the skirt of my dress higher and higher until his hands landed on my lace panties.

“Fuck, Faith,” he moaned against my lips, and I groaned at hearing a cuss word pour from Harry’s mouth. His shirt open, I stroked my palm along his chest, his torso, and down to the bulge in his pants. “Fuck!” Harry said louder, as we crashed onto a soft mattress, my hand still cupping his dick. I didn’t even have time to catch my breath before he ripped his shirt off and climbed above me, chest bared and the button and zipper of his jeans open.

“You’re ripped,” I whispered, and Harry took hold of my dress and yanked it down my arms. He rolled the body-con material down over my stomach and off my legs, leaving me in my black lace panties and bra set.

“Christ, Faith,” he said, biting his bottom lip as he stared down at me. “You’re perfect. How are you this perfect? Like you were made for me.” I didn’t get a chance to respond as Harry kissed me again, broke from my mouth, and traced a hot path down my neck to my breasts. A trail of goosebumps shadowed the journey.

Harry reared back his head, his blue eyes appearing black from how blown with lust his pupils had become. With a gentleness that contradicted his wild eyes, Harry pulled down each strap of my bra until my breasts spilled out. Growling at the sight of me, he lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth.

My hands threaded into his hair. I pulled on the soft strands, and when I did, he sucked harder. I yanked again, the pleasure he was inciting coursing through my veins like lava, setting me on fire. The more I pulled, the more savage he became. As I pulled for a third time, Harry lightly bit my nipple, causing my clit to throb and my back to arch. I rolled my hips, desperate for relief. Not making me wait, Harry pressed his fingers between my legs. I cried out at how good it felt.

“Harry. God, Harry!” I moaned and Harry suddenly sat back.

I reached out and tried to pull him back. I needed more. I needed everything Harry Sinclair could give. I wanted it all. I wanted him to consume me, devour me, own my damn soul.

Harry’s talented hands took hold of my panties and ripped them apart at the seams. “Oh, God!” I said as he tossed them over his shoulder, and he slammed his gaze to mine. There was a fraction of a pause. A heaving inhale, then Harry crawled over me, taking my mouth with his. The hardness in his jeans pressed between my legs, and I arched my back at the feel of him. He was huge.

Harry slipped down my neck, kissing my glistening skin. He tortured me with sweet kisses to my throat, my breasts, my stomach. I widened my legs, leaving no doubt of what I wanted and where I wanted him.

Harry moved lower, and I sighed feeling his hot breath between my legs. He placed his hands on the tops of my inner thighs then leaned in. I bowed my back at the first swipe of his tongue. My hands threaded through his hair, ready to guide him where I needed him. But no guidance was needed. Harry knew just where to go, his tongue flicking at my clit, his finger slipping inside my channel. In no time at all I felt my skin prickle and pressure build at the base of my spine with the oncoming orgasm.

“Harry, fuck! I’m gonna come,” I said, rushing out the word, just as he moved his finger, pressing on my G-spot and blackening out my world. I screamed my release, moving my hips so Harry’s tongue stayed where I needed him until my body jerked, unable to take any more. Harry lifted his head, pressing kiss after kiss to my inner thighs and my hips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, that accent in that raspy voice my undoing. Rolling to my knees, I pulled on his arm and pushed him down to the bed. It was my turn. When I was kneeling above him, I looked down at Harry and took my fill. Cut muscles, broad shoulders, olive skin, and those crystal blue eyes. Perfection.

Then my eyes moved to his crotch and the bulge that was threatening to bust through his jeans. With his button and zipper already undone, I pulled them down his legs, muscled thighs greeting me. I ran my hand over them, the dusting of black hairs tickling my palm.