His Ballerina

He pulls me close, his fingers digging into my ass. “Will you dance for me whenever I ask?”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

His head dips, his mouth closing over one of my nipples, then the other while I open his jeans and reach inside to pull out his thick, throbbing dick. His teeth scrape my skin when I stroke him, making me hiss.

“I could live on the taste of your skin.” He yanks me closer, tearing my thong as he pulls it to the side so he can sink two fingers deep inside me. His thumb circles my clit as he fucks me with those fingers while his mouth moves over my neck, my breasts, nipping and sucking, tracing every curve with his tongue.

I capture his mouth with mine and moan into it as an orgasm builds quickly, growing every time I slam down on his fingers. When he hooks them and presses against my G-spot, fireworks explode behind my eyes. I’m gone, lost in him, in us, in what he does to my body—to my soul.

Before I know it, I’m on my feet with my back to the mirror, and Archer is pulling his shirt over his head, dropping it along with his jeans and boxer shorts. He picks up my thigh, draping it over his hip before spearing me with his dripping cock. “Oh, god, so sweet.” He groans into my mouth, our tongues clashing as he drives himself into me.

He lifts me slightly. “Wrap those legs around me, baby.” I do it, locking them behind his back before he takes over completely, punishing my sex with merciless thrusts. I bite down on his shoulder to hold back a scream of pure animal lust as another orgasm slams into me practically on top of the first.

I’m lost, undone, somewhere between heaven and Earth. Between reality and the hottest, sexiest fantasy I’ve ever had. Letting him use me while I use my arms and legs as leverage to bounce up and down on his cock.

“Oh? You like it like that? Show me.” He stands up straight, pulling me away from the mirror, bearing my weight with ease. “Fuck me. Ride my cock, baby.”

I do, gasping every time my clit grinds against his base. Wet slapping sounds fill the room, along with his name as I moan it over and over. “Archer… Archer… I’m gonna… oh, god, yes!” I slam down one final time, shaking and sobbing in his arms.

He doesn’t wait for me to come down. He’s too far gone for that, holding back for my sake. I’m on my feet before I’ve stopped whimpering from the final spasms, turned to face the mirror with my hands on either side of my head, holding myself up.

Now he can take me deeper than ever, entering me from behind. “Watch me fuck that sweet pussy, baby. Keep your eyes open. Watch yourself.”

I do what I’m told, staring into my eyes as Archer takes me slowly now, filling me with deep, grinding thrusts that make his balls slide against my juice-slick thighs. One of his hands kneads my breasts while the other slides over my mound, putting pressure against my clit once he parts my folds.

“Oh, fuck!” My senses are overloaded, pleasure threatening to tear me to pieces from the inside out as familiar tremors start in my core. I look at Archer’s over my shoulder, the tendons standing out on his neck as he fills me with every inch of his manhood again and again.

I’ve never seen myself like this. Mouth open, eyes half-closed with lust, hair hanging in my face. My breasts sway with each thrust, and I bear down on Archer’s hand, rubbing myself off on him while he fucks me. I’m like a stranger to myself, but I love it. I love what he turns me into.

“Fuck me,” I grunt. “Harder, Archer. Harder.”

“You like that?” He pierces me deeper than ever, sharp enough to make me whimper and mewl. “You want it hard? As hard as I can give it to you?”

“Yes!”

“You want me to use you like a fuck toy? Is that what you want?”

“God, yes! Yes, use me.” My legs buckle from the force of my final, shattering orgasm, but Archer holds me up long enough to come with a roar. My body is racked with delicious tremors while he fills me with his cum, pumping slowly until he’s spent. We sink to the floor, tangled together, sweaty and breathless.

And if he’s anything like me, so incredibly happy. Satisfied. Hopeful.

Because this is our home. Ours, together. Always.

And there are a lot more rooms left for us to christen.