Maceo (Filthy Rich Alphas)

“God, I need this,” I whispered.

His dick was fatal. It screamed that word in the smoothness of that tan flesh stretching around his meaty length. Most cocks were a beautiful sight. I loved them all in my way—thick ones and fat monsters, slim pipes and curvy swords. But Maceo’s weapon surpassed them all. My mouth watered and hoped to lick it.

“Yeah. I don’t want to share either.” I lowered down and sucked him into my mouth, painting the tip with saliva and lapping the sensitive rim of the head with my tongue. Popping sounds ensued as I worked his cock. I had a hard time saying the things that were in my heart. When it came to my feelings, I was a closed door with two well-armed soldiers standing in front. This morning, I would tell him how I felt, but through my mouth and body.

So I sucked him hard, guiding my closed hands up and down his length, while my mouth remained on the tip.

The words could barely come out of his mouth. “For fuck’s sake, Christine!”

Oh you’re so worthy.

“Dios mio, you’re lucky I didn’t know this beforehand.” He tried to pull my head up as he practically growled with desire.

I stopped jacking him with my fingers and cupped his balls. He was huge and could barely fit all the way in, but I tried. For him I could try it all, from the bedroom to any other place he craved to take it. Like a mad man, he thrust into my mouth as if he’d been holding it all back, but could no longer. My whole body ached for him.

I got to have him inside of more than my mouth.

He rammed his cock, deep-throating me until I chocked a few times, and then finally pulled himself out.

Spit spilled out of my open mouth.

I coughed and gazed at this succulent man, so liquid in his movements that I had no idea how I’d gotten on top of him.

Somewhere between his dick leaving my mouth and me coughing, he’d picked me up and straddled me to his waist.

“I’m almost scared to give you more control.” He gripped my thighs as his fingers shook against my flesh. “You’re getting in my head.”

“And it only took a blow job.” With my fingers, I played with his wet dick, all covered in my saliva and poking my stomach.

“It was more than the blow job. You did it. Everything that makes up you, that’s what hooked me.”

“And what about my pussy?” I lifted up enough to mount him.

“Well, this pussy is mine.” He slammed me onto him before I could ease down on it gently.

“Oh!” I moaned.

“That’s right, baby.” He pumped hard into me. A lusty chaos ensued. His pumping should’ve been too much.

Oh harder. Harder!

My breasts bounced up and down. My hair swung all over the place as I held on to dear life. It all should’ve not been good.

I loved it slow and dirty. Maceo was none of those words. This man fucked me from the bottom. He rammed that huge cock into me, stretching and expanding my dripping pussy until I could only mumble my satisfaction and struggle to keep his pace.

“Hell yes.” He ground those hips into me. “I knew it would be so sweet.”

He’d said he had many women, maybe over a hundred. I believed him. No inexperienced man could do it like this. What he did took time and patience.

Being on top of him was like riding a roller coaster between my legs. Each time my body filled with molten passion, he lessened the pace to keep me holding on just a little bit longer before I exploded. I rose with him, reaching fevered levels I’d never obtained before.

And when it was time to finally fall, to drown in him, I collapsed into his body while a symphony of orgasms quaked from my center and surged out to every cell in my body. I crashed. If I hadn’t been damaged before I met him, I’d been broken after.

He owned me.

We climaxed together. He roared and I just tried not to drown. He snared me with that orgasm. The certainty pooled in his eyes. He’d still have to chase and hunt, like before, but now with his beautiful cock having greeted me just right, there would be a lackluster performance on my end.

After having him, I ached for his body even more. I was hooked—on his body, scent, cock, words, and everything else he’d spoiled me with.

Competition?

There would be no other man after him, not if I had anything to do with it. He called me his queen, but I’d truly met my king. There was no competition. His words made me swoon. His gifts seduced me. Yet, that cock controlled me with every inch.

He might as well have branded my flesh.